Life Like a Country Song: Remembering Robert Dean Shaw

On August 12, 2016 By Rev. Dr. Jarrett BanksIn MemorialsLeave a comment

Bob shaw

Bob Shaw loved music, more specifically country music, more specifically pre-1960 country music, and more specifically, pre-1960 country music that you could dance to, or at least tap your toe to. The kind of songs that were earthy, rural, set in a small town or in a farming community. Songs stirring patriotism and championing hard work. Songs speaking about lasting love and songs speaking about love lost and heart break. Songs speaking about rural life: the land, raising children and bird dogs, hunting and catfishing. Songs of sacrifice and worrying about the kids and the dogs.

Bob loved another Bob with the last name of Wills, known as the King of Texas Swing.

Bob had such a love for Texas Swing that he taught himself to play the guitar, and steered his daughter Ronda away from the flute, an instrument that may never have been played in the Texas Playboy band. Bob even took some guitar lessons in his late in his forties.

I don’t believe Bob’s love for country music should not surprise anyone who reads reads his obituary, as his epitaph reads like lyrics to a country song, you might say, some good ol’ Texas Swing.

Born in Lacey, Oklahoma, a small rural farming community, Bob attended Mound Ridge, a one room school house.

Bob Wills once sang of the rural, slow paced, southern way of life that Bob Shaw was born into:

Yes, this is Southland, where everything’s fine

It’s where they really live and give you a feeling

That you’re welcome any time

You’ll find our men are stronger, women sweeter

And you’ll live much longer, no rush every day.

Bob graduated from high school and was drafted into the United States Army, serving from 1953 to 1955 during the Korean Conflict. He was stationed in what he called “cold and dark Greenland,” building a runway to defend the North Atlantic from a possible Russian advance. Those years of service were difficult for Bob. He lost a dear friend and comrade in an explosion, and Bob himself was injured in an accident with a Jeep. This service and sacrifice, this love for country led him to later become the Commander and District Commander of the American Legion. Bob’s love for country is perhaps what attracted him the patriotic music of Bob Wills’. One song goes:

When the Yanks raised

The Stars and Stripes on Iwo Jima Isle

Ev’ry heart could sing once again

And the sight of Old Glory over Iwo Jima Isle

Swelled the hearts of our fighting men

After serving his country, Bob moved to Kingfisher where he worked for Cimarron Electric, and later he would move to Enid to work with OG&E where he continued to sacrifice for others. Working with electricity is a dangerous venture, but being a lineman, is another kind of danger.

One day, in Pawhuska, Oklahoma, Bob was on the ground while a fellow lineman was high in a bucket truck working on an electric line. Not knowing that the line was live, his co-worker grabbed the line. The electricity immediately grabbed and held on to him, until Bob says he could see smoke appear to come from the top of his head. Without hesitation, and putting himself at risk, Bob climbed the pole and pulled his co-worker off of the line, saving the man’s life.

Bob would find love, have two sons, but then, like a country song, lose love, as his first marriage would not last.

Bob Wills sings of the heartbreak of love lost:

No more to be sweetheart, no more to be friend

My yesterdays haunt me, my weary heart cries

I just can’t go on, dear, with tears in my eyes.

However, Bob Wills also sings of the hope of finding new love:

I’ll have somebody else as soon as you are gone

You’ll never break my heart no more

I used to weep and sigh each time we said goodbye

You broke my heart so often, there’s no more tears to cry.

And in 1969, Bob married Linda Kisling.

Celebrating the joy of lasting love Wills sings:

Stay all night, stay a little longer

Dance all night, dance a little longer

Pull off your coat throw it in the corner

Don’t see why you don’t stay a little longer.

And that is just what Linda did, standing faithfully by his side for 47 years. The two of them had one child together, his only daughter, Ronda.

Bob enjoyed hunting quail on the farm. He and his bird dogs also hunted ducks, turkeys and pheasants. He also enjoyed fishing, especially catfishing. Bob liked to get a way, and enjoy the outdoors. Bob believed in working hard, but he also believed in taking it easy.

Bob Wills sings:

I might have gone fishing. I got to thinking it over.

And the road to the river is a mighty long way,

Now it could be the season, no rhyme or no reason,

Justa taking it easy, it’s my lazy day

Bob Shaw’s obituary closes: Bob is survived by his wife, Linda, a daughter ,Ronda and her husband Terry, two sons, Jerry Walker, Larry Walker and his wife, Candy, three grandchildren, seven great-grandchildren and one sister, June Lindsey. He was preceded in death by a brother.

When I asked Bob’s family how Bob expressed his love and devotion to them, they all agreed: “He worried about us.” Ronda said that he especially worried about her driving, arriving at her destination safely, wherever that may have been. Bob would probably agree that worry is the price that parents pay for the gift of children.

Again, Bob Wills sings:

Woe is me, so is you

What a price to pay

Tell me what I’m gonna do

I can’t go on this way

Every night I walk the floor

Worried over you

All I do is watch the door

Hopin’ you’ll come through

Pacin’ up, pacin’ down

‘Til the break of day

I’m the saddest soul in town

I can’t go on this way

Where are you at tonight?

Now, I do not believe that Bob Shaw’s worry meant that he lacked faith in God. For after his heart surgery, Bob made a grateful promise to God that he’d be more faithful in his church attendance. Keeping his promise, Bob and Linda would arrive around 9 am for the 10:15 service almost every Sunday! They sat together on the same bench for over an hour in the gathering area waiting for the service to begin. It was kind of their spot.

Thus, I don’t believe that Bob’s worry meant his faith was weak. I believe it only meant that he loved you so. Worry was simply the price that he paid for love.

I believe it is good to be reminded that, like worry, grief is also the price we pay for love. Grieving only means that we have loved have loved another the way our creator has intended for us to love another.

Garth Brooks, a post-1960 country music star that Bob probably never listened to, sings a song entitled, “The Dance.”

One line of that song goes: “I could have missed the pain, but I’d a’had to miss the dance.”

The only way to miss pain in life is to miss love in life. But to never love someone the way you loved your husband, your father, your brother, your grandfather and great grandfather is to never really live. As the country song goes, the only way to miss the pain of loss is to miss the whole dance of life.

You loved Bob, and now you are paying the price for that love. Grief is the consequence of love. But you know something? Everyone of us here this day, is going to go on courageously loving one another because the ones we love are worth that price. You have loved. And now you grieve.

So I say to you this afternoon, grieve. Grieve long and deeply. Do not dare run away from it. Do not treat it as if were a stranger you could send away, or deny that grief, because who does not know any better thinks it means your faith is weak. Grieve what is lost. Grieve honestly, lovingly and patiently. Grieve until your cup is emptied. For this is the only way back to wholeness.

Grieve and even thank God or your grief. Because like Bob’s worry, your grief only means you loved. However, also remember the words of the Apostle Paul in his letter to the Thessalonians that those of us who call ourselves Christians should not grieve as others do who have no hope. As Christians, our grief is different, because as Christians we possess hope. We have the hope that as God raised up Jesus from the dead, God has raised Bob.

Perhaps today, Bob Shaw has found another Bob, and maybe even the rest of the Texas Playboy band, and they, even now, are playing the guitar and singing together:

Will you miss me when I’m gone?

Will you ever think of me?

Will the past be just today…

If you cry yourself to sleep

As I did for you for so long

Then perhaps you’ll dream of me

Will you miss me when I’m gone…

…I love you just the same

More than you will ever know

When your hair has turned to white

And you feel so all alone

Maybe then you’ll think of me

Will you miss me when I’m gone?

Do This and Live

On July 10, 2016July 10, 2016 By Rev. Dr. Jarrett BanksIn Sermons Year C2 Comments

dallas shootings

Luke 10:25-37 NRSV

Sometimes preachers can begin preparing their sermon too early. I began working on this sermon more than a week ago. I chose the theme, the point and the title of the sermon early Tuesday morning.

As you can probably tell by the title of my sermon, “Do This and Live,” the point of my message this morning was going to be that it is high time for Christians to put our faith into action.

In the beginning of Luke 10, we read Jesus saying to seventy of his followers: “the harvest is plentiful but the laborers are few.” Then he commissions them to do some pretty big things: bring peace to the people, cure the sick, work to bring the kingdom of God near.

This was going to be my sermon.

I was going to tell the story of the Good Samaritan, tell how he overcame his fear of the other, how he reached out and reached down to help him in his time of distress, and then I was going to quote Jesus, by saying: “Go and do likewise.” “Do this and live.”

I was going to say that it is time for us act, to go and do likewise.

I was going to say that the Samaritan did not merely wish the man lying in the ditch well. He did not just send his thoughts and his prayers. He didn’t mull over the situation, consider the risk involved, ask whether or not his insurance would cover it. He just acted.

I was going to encourage you to be the church that Shannon often describes as one that is “on the move.”

I was going to admonish you to move beyond thoughts and prayers, study and contemplation, to be more committed than ever to truly be a movement for wholeness in this fragmented world.

A movement. Not a team of thinkers.

A movement. Not philosophy class.

A movement. Not a club of theorists.

A movement. Not a group of day dreamers.

A movement. Not a church of well-wishers.

A movement, a body of doers, doing all that we can, when we can, with all that we have been given,

working for wholeness in a creation that is broken,

working for justice in systems of inequality,

working for mercy and grace in a society of bigotry and prejudice,

working for peace in a culture of war and violence,

working for truth in a nation of politics,

working for love in a world of hate,

working for hope in a world of despair.

However, after the horrific events continued to unfold this week, I went back to our scripture lesson to read it once more in the light of what has been a horrendous week for our country.

Surely, God has something else to say to us this week.

The first time I read the story, I read it the way many read it. By understanding that God wants us to see ourselves in that Good Samaritan, that God wants us to overcome our fear of the other and act to truly love others as we love ourselves. God wants us to courageously go out, reach out and reach down to help those who have been left behind, put down, beaten up.

But after a week in which we witnessed 250 murders in Baghdad, the murder of two African Americans in Baton Rouge and St. Paul, and the murders of five police officers in Dallas, I began to read the text differently.

Instead of seeing ourselves in that Good Samaritan, perhaps God needs us to acknowledge today that we are more like one who has been robbed, beaten, and left bleeding, half-dead in a ditch on the side of a wilderness road.

That is where I believe we truly are as Americans today. We have been robbed: robbed of pride and dignity, robbed of trust and hope, and robbed of peace and security. We have been beaten: beaten by racism and hate, beaten by terrorism and violence, and beaten by confusion and despair. And we are bleeding. We are bleeding tears, bleeding fear, and bleeding anger.

And honestly, we are currently unable to act sensibly, unable to move courageously, and certainly unable to be any semblance of a movement for wholeness, because we ourselves are not whole. We are broken, barely making it, not knowing whether we might live or die.

And one by one, people are passing us by. Friends are disappointing us, and even people of faith are letting us down. We are being treated as if our lives do not matter.

But here is the good news:

The good news is that someone is coming towards us. Someone is coming very near to us. Although we cannot comprehend it, we sense his presence.

He is but a stranger to us. His ways are not our ways. He comes from a foreign land. He is one who has been despised and rejected by the world, a man of sorrows held in low esteem.

But when this strange one sees us, as he becomes acquainted with our suffering, he is immediately moved with compassion. He is moved thoroughly and deeply.

We have been beaten so badly, he does not recognize if we are black or white, Jew or Muslim, male or female.

Yet, he suffers with us, and he suffers for us. His empathy towards us brings him down to his knees. We can feel his warmth. We perceive his empathy. And then, kneeling beside us, with his own hands, he tends to the places where we have been hurt. He stops the bleeding. He cleanses our lacerations. A costly wine poured out. Carefully, attentively and lovingly, he bandages all of our wounds.

He then puts his arms around us. Although we still cannot make out his face, cannot comprehend his actions, we instinctively know that we can trust him. We can trust him. So we put hands around his neck as he picks us up.

He picks us up and carries us until we reach a safe place, a place where no one judges us, a place where we are welcomed and accepted just as we are.

He stays beside us and continues to care for us. He gives us warm bread and something refreshing to drink. He stays with us through the darkness of the night, holding us, loving us, assuring us that we will not only have life, but we will have life abundantly, assuring us that a new day will dawn and we will be a part of it.

And when that day comes, he sacrificially pays the price for our care, for our healing, for our salvation. And then he places us in the hands of others who will care for us, shepherd us, love us as he loved us.

He then tells us that he must go, but before he departs, he makes a promise. I will come again. I will surely come again, and whatever your debt may be, I will take care of it. I will pay it in full. I will forgive it fully, completely. Grace will be yours not only today, but forever.

And our cups runneth over. We are healed, made whole. We have been saved. For we have never experienced such a love, a love without conditions, a grace without limits, a mercy without reservations.

This afternoon, our church is partnering with Youth and Family Services to host a back to school bash for foster children living here in Garfield County. We will have games, provide haircuts, and give out book bags with school supplies. Most of all, we will give them our love.

We will let them know that today they come to a safe place. A place where no one will judge them, a place where they will be accepted and welcomed.

We will let them know that there is a community here that will hold them, love them unconditionally, share mercy with them unreservedly, and offer grace to them with no strings attached whatsoever.

We are not going to merely offer these foster kids our thoughts and prayers. We are not going to just wish them well. We are going to act.

And we are going to continue these acts of grace with others in our community who find themselves in need. We are truly committed to be a church on the move.

However, before we can do this, before we can be a body of doers, before we can go and hold others in the light of Christ, a light that will certainly drive away the darkness, I believe we first need to be held in that light ourselves.

Before we can envelop others with a love that will drive out the hate, we first need to know that we have been embraced by such a love. Before we can become a movement for wholeness, we first need to be made whole.

And if we do this, accept this love, receive this grace, allow this mercy to take a hold of us, pick us up, heal us, redeem us, and transform us, if we do this, we will live.

And then, we can share this life with others. We can truly be a movement for wholeness in a fragmented world.

Come, Lord Jesus. Come quickly.

Between the Verses

On June 5, 2016June 5, 2016 By Rev. Dr. Jarrett BanksIn Sermons Non-Lectionary, UncategorizedLeave a comment

GirlieBorder1

Psalm 6 NRSV

About one-third of the Psalms are called “Lament Psalms.” I love these Psalms for their sheer honesty. These Psalms are unashamedly real, straight up authentic. They speak to the reality of our pain, frailty, and failures. They also speak to the reality of the pain of our world: the plight of the poor; the despair of the displaced, the evil of war, the scourge of disease, and all kinds of injustices. And they speak of the reality of what sometimes seems like God’s apathy or even absence in this world.

Psalm 10 reads:

¹ Why, O Lord, do you stand far off? Why do you hide yourself in times of trouble?
² In arrogance the wicked persecute the poor—

⁷ Their mouths are filled with cursing and deceit and oppression;

⁸ They sit in ambush in the villages;
in hiding-places they murder the innocent.
Their eyes stealthily watch for the helpless;
⁹ they lurk in secret like a lion in its covert;
they lurk that they may seize the poor;
they seize the poor and drag them off in their net.

Walter Brueggemann says that the Lament Psalms “break the force of denial” teaching us that the truth of our pain must be told. They teach us the importance of declaring out loud that things are bad. Things in our lives are bad. Things in this world are bad. And even things about our relationship with God are bad. The Psalms teach us to honestly say out loud that when it comes to God, even on our best days, we have our doubts.

However, that is not our tendency. Is it? We have this notion that any amount of crying, complaining, protesting or “lamenting” means that our faith is weak. And to ever doubt God, well, that is simply out of the question!

To be a positive witness to the world to the saving acts of our God, we believe we should always wear a victorious guise. Thus, this morning, there are churches everywhere full of smiling, happy, clappy Christians casually dressed singing simple, repetitive songs devoid of any semblance of reality. And there are churches full of serious, somber Christians in suits and dresses, preachers robed with stoles, monotonously singing the old hymns of faith without any real concern for the suffering of others.

Christians everywhere have a tendency to retreat into sanctuaries and cling to denial, ignoring the suffering of this world. We cover it up with a smile or hide it with our Sunday best. We deceive ourselves by pretending that with our faith everything is good, everything is working; when in fact, everything is far from good, and nothing is actually working. Confession of sin, acknowledgement of pain, and doubting God is something that is done sparingly and always privately, if it is even done at all.

However, the Lament Psalms move us in the opposite direction. They persuade us to not only tell it like it is, but to publically tell it like it is to God.

And these Psalms teach us it this kind of honesty, this kind of truth-telling, that is the only way we can experience new life and salvation.

Those of us who have read the stories of Jesus should not be that surprised. For whenever Jesus encounters people in need whether it is blind people, poor people, or in the case of Jarius’ daughter and Lazarus, dead people, it is always the needy person, or the family of the dead person who summon Jesus to come into their life or into their house. It is always the one who is in great need, the one who is suffering or grieving who takes the initiative to invoke the help of Jesus.

When Bartimaues, the blind beggar, hears that Jesus is passing by, he cries out, over and over, until Jesus hears his lament, a lament that sounds much like a Psalm: “Jesus, son of David, have mercy on me.” It is then, and only then, after the man honestly cries out in need to Jesus, publically voices his desire to change, that Jesus stops and heals him.

Psalm 32 speaks clearly about the power of our honest cries. The Psalmist writes: “While I kept silence,” in other words, while I was in denial, while I was pretending to be a happy, clappy person of faith or a stoic, serious religious person, “my body wasted away through my groaning all day long. For day and night your hand was heavy on me; my strength was dried up as by the heat of summer.” In other words, when I pretended everything was working, that all was good, my body wasted away.

“Then I acknowledged my sin to you, and did not hide my iniquity.” I stopped playing religious games, stopped pretending, stopped faking my faith, stopped trying to appear like I had it all together with my fine wool suit and silk tie, or with my long robe and stole. “I said, ‘I will confess my transgressions to the Lord” (and guess what happened next!), and you came, “and you forgave the guilt of my sin,” the guilt that was eating my life away. “Therefore let all who are faithful offer prayer to you,” fully, sincerely, honestly.

Thus, Psalm 6 is one of my favorite Psalms. For here the Psalmist honestly pours out his heart before God like none other.

¹ O Lord, do not rebuke me in your anger,
or discipline me in your wrath.
² Be gracious to me, O Lord, for I am languishing;
O Lord, heal me, for my bones are shaking with terror.
³ My soul also is struck with terror,
while you, O Lord—how long?
⁴ Turn, O Lord, save my life;
deliver me for the sake of your steadfast love.
⁵ For in death there is no remembrance of you;
in Sheol who can give you praise?
⁶ I am weary with my moaning;
every night I flood my bed with tears;
I drench my couch with my weeping.
⁷ My eyes waste away because of grief;
they grow weak because of all my foes.

Here the Psalmist tells the truth, the whole truth, to God. There is no holding back, no masking the pain, no masquerading behind a Bible and a hymn book, no pretending to be strong because others will think he is weak. There is no denial. This Psalmist takes the initiative, goes to God, and keeps it very real. And notice what happens next. Look at what happens somewhere between verses seven and eight.

Somewhere between seven and eight, God shows up. New life, inexplicable, yet certain, comes. Easter happens. Pentecost arrives. Blessed assurance, amazing grace, and a peace beyond all understanding are received. Thus in verse eight, the Psalmist confidently continues:

⁸ Depart from me, all you workers of evil,
for the Lord has heard the sound of my weeping.
⁹ The Lord has heard my supplication;
the Lord accepts my prayer.
¹⁰ All my enemies shall be ashamed and struck with terror;
they shall turn back, and in a moment be put to shame.

Now, we do not know what exactly happened between verse seven and eight. We just know that something happened and that something was God. Somewhere, somehow, someway, God breathed on the Psalmist new life, inexplicable, yet certain. God came, and God resurrected, restored, and revived. When the Psalmist was honest saying “this is not working,” “this is bad,” God came and worked all things together for good.

Somewhere, somehow, someway between verses seven and eight God showed up. Perhaps through a still small voice. Perhaps through a quiet warmth that mysteriously erased the terror from his bones and soul.

Or perhaps through love expressed by a friend. Perhaps God came through a visit from a concerned neighbor. Perhaps someone cooked supper and brought it over, or simply offered a listening ear or an empathetic embrace. We just know that somewhere between verses seven and eight, God, in some inexplicable yet certain way, came.

I see this all the time in the church. People come to me and tell me that their life is over. Nothing is working. There is no way. Some are grieving a loss: either a job loss, a lost opportunity or the loss of a loved one. Some are just sick and tired of being sick and tired. They come to me honestly, pouring themselves out. In their life, it is verse 7, and they are languishing.

Then a short time later, I see them again. And suddenly, it is verse 8. They tell me that life has never been better. How losing that job was the very best thing that happened to them. That although they still grieve over the loss of their loved one, God not only brought them great comfort and peace, but God has made them a stronger, better person. They say that although they thought their life was over, they realize that a new life is only just beginning. There is now a way when there was no way.

The good news is that this is how our God loves to work in the world. It is the very nature of God. However, as the Psalters remind us, when we are languishing, if we ever want to experience what is between verses seven and eight, it is up to us to take the initiative. It is up to us to come honestly before God, confess our sins, confess our brokenness, confess our weakness, confess our need of God. It is up to us to tell God the whole truth. And then I promise you, somewhere there between verses seven and eight, God will inexplicably, yet certainly show up.

And as people of faith, when verse 8 comes, I believe God continually calls us to go back to live in between the verses. God calls us to service somewhere in between verses seven and eight keeping our minds and our hearts open to the cries, to the pain, and to the needs of others.

And who knows, even today, you may be that inexplicable, yet certain something that happens for someone living between seven and eight! It may be through preparing a meal, sending a card, making a phone call or making a visit, or by just being present to listen to someone’s cries. God is calling each of us, every person in this room, and God is counting on us to be there for others between the verses, so all of God’s children can get to the verses where they are able to confidently sing:

“The Lord has heard the sound of my weeping. The Lord has heard my supplication. The Lord accepts my prayer.” “The Lord is my shepherd. I shall not want.” Amen.

The Hands of God

On May 29, 2016 By Rev. Dr. Jarrett BanksIn Sermons Non-LectionaryLeave a comment

Army Captain Christopher S. Cash, 36, died on June 24, 2004 in Baquabah, Iraq when his Bradley Fighting Vehicle came under attack by enemy forces using small arms fire and rocket-propelled grenades. He was assigned to the Army National Guard’s 1st Battalion, 120th Infantry, Jacksonville, North Carolina.

Isaiah 49:8-16

If I am to be truly honest with you, I must confess, that I suppose I am just like most of us here, in that, from time to time, I have my doubts. I cannot help it, and I’d be a hypocrite to deny it. It’s just part of my fragmented human nature.

What I believe makes the Bible so great is the sheer honesty of it. When I slip into the doldrums of doubt and despair, I can always pick up the Bible to discover that I am not alone.

Listen again to these words of Isaiah to the people of Israel in exile:

“Thus says the Lord”—what a powerful statement. This is not a mere prophet’s voice, but the voice of Almighty God, the Holy One, the Redeemer of Israel.

“Thus says the Lord… who is faithful…who has chosen you.” Israel did not reach up and choose God. God reached down and chose Israel. Here, God is the actor, the mover, the shaker. And listen to how God has acted…

“Thus says the Lord…I have answered you…I have helped you…I have kept you…I have given you….” In other words, “I answered your cries in Egypt, I sent Moses to deliver you, I protected you in the wilderness, and I gave you a promised land.”

“And not only have I acted in the past, I promise to continue acting, reaching out and reaching in… giving you light in your darkness…feeding your hunger, quenching your thirst. I promise to protect, lead and guide you. I will transform mountains into roads, lift up highways and show you the way out of captivity…”

“So shout for joy, O heavens, and exult, O earth; break forth O mountains into singing! For the Lord has comforted God’s people, and will have compassion on God’s suffering ones!”

And what did the people say? “Halleluiah! Thine the glory?” No, not even close.

The people in exile responded to the voice of God, the divine acts of the past and the divine promises for the future the same way I suppose you and I sometimes respond—with a lot of doubt.

In verse 14 we read…But Zion said, “The Lord has forsaken me, the Lord has forgotten me.”

Deep within, we know that God has always been with us, never away from us. We know God is for us, not against us. And we believe in our hearts that whatever our future brings, God will always work all things out for the good. However, due to, I suppose, our sinful, finite nature, the reality is that, sometimes, we have our doubts.

I can go to church on Sunday and experience the love and grace of Christ through my family of faith. I’m greeted each Sunday at the door with handshakes and smiles. I listen to the choir sing. I hear the word of God being read. I sing the great hymns of faith, and through it all, I sense the nearness and the intimacy of God. But then, during the week, a thousand different things can happen and change everything.

Fifteen years ago, I became good friends with Christopher Cash, a member of the National Guard.

On October 1, 2003, his unit was deployed to Iraq. As the only person I personally knew in Iraq, I specifically remember praying for my friend Christ the following year, on the Sunday morning before Memorial Day the following year.

About a month later, I picked up the Saturday newspaper and read the headlines on the front page: “Captain Christopher Cash Killed in Iraq.” I tried my best to read the article, but couldn’t. I never made it pass the sub-title: “Cash leaves behind his wife, Dawn, and two children.”

The room started spinning. I felt sick to my stomach. I was lost. And I had never felt more alone. With Zion I wanted to cry out, “The Lord has forsaken me. The Lord has forgotten me.”

One moment we’re filled with faith and hope; we sense the intimate presence of God. And in the next moment, we sense only God forsakenness.

A thousand different things can happen…the telephone rings in the middle in the night…there’s been a terrible accident…your child is sick…your spouse is laid off from work…someone who you are supposed to be able to count on for encouragement, lets you down…a terrorist or a crazed gunman attacks…a tornado or earthquake strikes…war rages…the doctor gives a grim diagnosis…a loved one dies.

One day we are basking in the presence of God. We know we’ve been chosen. Our prayers have been answered. We’ve been helped. We have received and kept by an eternally faithful God. We have confidence that as God has not let us down in the past, God will certainly not desert us in the future. God will continue to reach out and reach in, transform, protect, shed light in our darkness, feed and quench, protect, lead and guide.

But then something happens; and just a short time later, with Zion we cry out, “The Lord has forsaken me. The Lord has forgotten me.”

This is why I love the Bible. I love the sheer honesty of it! In spite of everything we know about God, what God has done, and what God promises to do, like Zion, we fragmented and finite human beings still have our doubts.

Now listen to the good news. The good news is that our God never gives up on us. God never leaves us to our own devices. God never deserts us with our doubts, but always responds to our doubts. God keeps moving, keeps reaching out and reaching in.

In verse 15, we read God’s response to our doubt. “Can a woman forget her nursing child, or show no compassion for the child of her womb? Even these may forget, yet I will not forget you. See, I have inscribed you on the palms of my hands…”

Tomorrow, our nation remembers those members of our armed forces who have made the ultimate sacrifice. Today, our church remembers members of our family of faith who have died during the past year. But this is not why we have gathered here for worship. We gather to worship this day, not because we remember them, but because our God remembers them.

For our remembering is shallow and weak; our remembering is fraught with doubt; laden with despair. God’s remembering is deep, unfailing. God’s memory endures forever. God responds to our doubt with the assurance that we and our loved ones will never be forgotten by God because they, with us, are in the very hands of God.

And, as Christians, we know something about the hands of God, don’t we? The life, death and resurrection of Jesus Christ teaches us that the hands of our God are always responding to our brokenness, always working, always doing all they can do to work all things together for the good, always creating and recreating, healing and transforming and resurrecting.

As my heart broke upon learning about by friend’s violent death in Iraq. I must confess I had my doubts. I am sure that his wife Dawn had her doubts. But thank God that God did not give up on us. God responded to our doubts the hands of God kept working, kept moving, kept creating, kept resurrecting. And today, nearly 14 years after Chris’ sacrifice for this country, Dawn has helped to raise nearly a half million dollars in scholarship money in Chris’ memory to assist needy students with college educations.

And for me, well, I still have my doubts from time to time; however this Memorial Day, because of Chris and so many others who gave their lives serving and protecting this country, I possess a deeper appreciation for our country and for this miraculous gift we call life. Because of their sacrifice, I possess a profound desire to serve others more faithfully, to love others more deeply, and to preach the message of peace more fervently.

But here’s the true miracle: Because God never gives up on any of us, because we are indeed in the very hands of God, each time in our humanness we have our doubts, each time we wonder if our faith is even real, that God is even real, our faith miraculously grows stronger.

Thanks be to God that as the very hands of God picked my friend Chris up from the battlefield to hold forever, those very hands also hold us.

Her Jug Will Never Fail: Remembering Delcea Batterman

On May 27, 2016May 27, 2016 By Rev. Dr. Jarrett BanksIn MemorialsLeave a comment

Delcea-Batterman-1463996239

1 Kings 17:8-16 NRSV

In 1 Kings we read, “Then the word of the Lord came to him.”

Those of us who grieve the loss of Delcea are also able to celebrate this day, because we know that the word of the Lord came to her.

Because we know that the word of the Lord came to her many years ago when she decided to follow Christ as his disciple, and because of the many ways that she let us know through her faithful love and amazing smile that the word of the Lord came to her daily, today we who grieve also celebrate. We celebrate because we also know that the word of the Lord came to her this past Saturday morning, finally, fully and eternally.

I loved the way her daughter Eilene notified me Saturday morning of her passing. Revealing Delcea’s deep faith in the word of the Lord, and the faith that she passed down to her children, Eilene sent me a text that simply read: “Mom just left this world to be with God.”

Eilene will never forget the first time she truly grasped the depth of her mother’s faith. As a small child she remembers living very meagerly in a mobile home. One day, Eilene asked her mother to make her a peanut butter sandwich, but Delcea had to explain that, at the time, there was no bread in the house.

“But mama, I really want a peanut butter sandwich.”

“I am so sorry,” said Delcea. “And we don’t have any money right now to go out and buy any bread.”

Looking at the disappointment in her child’s face, Delcea said, “But you know something, we can pray for bread.”

The two of them then knelt down by the couch in the living room and prayed for bread.

As soon as they got from prayer, there was a knock on the door. Delcea opened the door, with Eilene by her side, to greet a gentleman who was giving away loaves of Colonial Bread.

Whenever I read stories of the Bible like the ones I read from 1 Kings and the gospel of Mark, someone will inevitably comment: “I sure wished the Lord spoke to people and worked miracles today like God did back in Bible days.”

But I don’t think you will ever hear any member of the Batterman family make that comment. And I know for certain you have never heard Delcea make that comment.

“The word of the Lord came to Elijah saying: Go now to Zarephath and live there; for I have commanded a widow there to feed you when you arrive.”

Notice that, like Delcea illustrated throughout her life, Elijah was faithful to the command of the Lord. He sets out and goes immediately to Zarephath. And when he comes to the gate of the town, just as the Lord had said, he meets a widow who is gathering a couple of sticks to build a fire for dinner. He called to her and said, “Pour me a glass of water. And while you are at it, bring me a morsel of bread.”

But she said, “As the Lord your God lives, [I don’t have a loaf of bread in the house] I have nothing baked, only a handful of meal in a jar, and a little oil in a jug.” She only had enough flour and oil to make one final meal for her and her son. Then, in the midst of the drought and famine in the land, they would surely die.

Elijah says: “Do not be afraid.”

Hebrew biblical scholar Katherine Schifferdecker imagines her saying:

“Easy for you to say! You’re not the one preparing to cook one last meal for yourself and your son before you die. You’re not the one who has watched your carefully-hoarded supply of flour and oil relentlessly dwindle day-by-day, week-by-week, as the sun bakes the seed in the hard, parched earth and the wadis run dry. You’re not the one who has watched your beloved son slowly grow thinner and more listless.”

But Elijah still says to her, go and make me a little cake of it and bring it to me, and afterwards make something for yourself and your son” (1 Kings 17:13).

“How dare this man of God ask me for bread, knowing that I have so little? Who does he think he is, asking me for bread before I feed my own child? There is simply not enough to go around. I told him that I have only “a handful of meal, a little oil, and a couple of sticks. There is not enough. And Death waits at the door.”

Then the good news:

“For thus says the Lord, the God of Israel: The jar of meal will not be emptied and the jug of oil will not fail until the day that the Lord sends rain on the earth.’ She went and did as Elijah said, so that she as well as he and her household ate for many days. The jar of meal was not emptied, neither did the jug of oil fail, according to the word of the Lord that he spoke by Elijah” (1 Kings 17:14-16).

Have you heard the word of the Lord?

We who grieve this day are also able to celebrate, because we know Delcea not only heard the word of the Lord, she believed it. And today we give thanks that she was a living testimony to the miracle of that word.

Born right before the Great Depression, I am certain that there were many times that her family questioned whether or not they would make it. But Delcea did make it, graduating from Elkhart High School in Kansas and marrying the love of her life, Marion Batterman. Growing up during some of the most difficult years in our country was not easy. I am certain there were many times her family just about ran out of sticks. But the good news is that their jars never emptied, and their jugs never failed.

The two newlyweds farmed together and dreamed of starting a family and making a good life together. But this was 1943, and the United States was in the middle of war with Germany and Japan. So Marian left Delcea to defend his country and freedom around the world. I am sure she worried and prayed every day and night for Marion, and although I am sure she sometimes doubted that her dreams of raising and family and growing old with her husband would be realized, the miracle was that her jar did not empty, and her jug did not fail.

Upon Marian’s return, they both put their faith into action as they both answered a call to Christian ministry. Marian preached in the gospel, while Delcea played the piano. And although they often struggled, sometimes not even having a loaf of bread in the house to make a peanut butter sandwich, the good news is: although their jars got low, they never emptied; although their jugs almost ran dry, they never failed.

I met with Delcea’s children, Marvin, Eilen and Glenda Saturday afternoon and asked them to name some things about their mother that would inspire them for the rest of their lives.

They talked mostly about her faithfulness to them as a mother. They talked about her always being there for them, supporting, them encouraging them no matter what. They talked about her always being there when they go home from school.

They also talked about how much she loved life, always curious. How she took flying lessons, enjoyed traveling and making costumes and participating in the Gaslight Theater.

They talked about a faithful woman whose jar never emptied, a woman whose jug never failed.

For the last several years, unable to walk, Delcea has suffered greatly. Her poor health forced her to move out of an assisted living facility with Marion into a nursing home.

A few weeks ago, she was hospitalized. Her doctors determined that she had suffered multiple heart attacks. They tried to correct the blockages in the arteries of her heart, but they were unsuccessful. They essentially told her that she only had only a couple of sticks left.

Hospice was called in to keep her comfortable. However, each time I would visit her, in the hospital or in the nursing home, Delcea had this amazing, remarkable smile that, considering her condition, was miraculous.

She smiled and laughed with the hope of a young girl who had just gotten married to what would be the love-of-her-life for over seventy-three years; certainly not like someone who had only a couple of weeks to live.

And during her final hours with us, when she was heavily medicated and unable to laugh and smile, if you looked down towards her legs that had been immobile for years, you would see them moving, running, almost dancing, as if if to say: “My sticks may almost gone. Death may be at the door. But my jug will never be emptied and my jar will never, ever fail.”

Night is falling. Jesus has been teaching out on a hillside. And the crowd that showed up that day, well, they were getting hungry.

The disciples with a little panic in their voices insist: “Jesus, there’s a thousand hungry people out there. We need to send them back to town so they can buy something to eat.”

Jesus asks, “But tell me what do you have?”

“Just a few loaves and two miserable little fish.”

Jesus takes what they have, blesses it, breaks it, and gives it. And, the good news is: it is enough.

However, that is not the end of the story. Although that would be enough, there is more. We read where “all ate and all were filled.” They were all fulfilled, all satisfied. They just didn’t receive something to “tie them over” until they got back into town. They ate until they were full and satisfied.

But the story doesn’t even in end there. They took up what was left over and 12 baskets were filled. The truth is: there was not enough. There was more than enough. There was not only fulfillment and satisfaction, but there was a surplus. The good news is: This is simply the way it is with Jesus.

I visited a little while with Marion yesterday. He talked about how difficult life was going to be without his wife at his side. Naturally, he talked about being a little numb, how reality had yet to set in. He knows that will soon find himself in a deserted place.

The good news is, and all of us who knew and loved Delcea know it, the word of the Lord will surely come to Marian, to Marvin, Eilene and Glenda and their families, and to each one of us who grieve this day saying: “Do not be afraid. Because your jar will never be emptied and your jug will never fail, and as long as you are following Jesus, you will always have a great big pile of sticks and more than enough bread!”

You Never Know

On May 15, 2016May 15, 2016 By Rev. Dr. Jarrett BanksIn Sermons Year C4 Comments

Pentecost fire

Acts 2:1-21 NRSV

“You never know!” There are a couple different places I hear these three powerful words.

One place is in the midst of chaos and pain. It is a phrase that is frequently heard in hospitals or at funeral homes. It usually comes after an accident, a diagnosis, or sudden death. It comes after the telephone rings in the middle of the night, and it is not the wrong number. It comes when we hear words from our employers like “cutting back,” “laying off,” letting go,” or words doctors like “cancer,” “inoperable” and “terminal.”

“You never know when life might change, and change dramatically. You never know what each day will bring. You never know what tomorrow is going to be like. You never know from one day to the next. All of a sudden, in a blink of an eye, your whole world can change. You just never know.”

Then the other place that I oftentimes hear these words is when God suddenly takes us by surprise. We think we have life all figured out. We think we finally have a plan our lives. Then God somehow, some mysterious way reminds you that God is the one with the plans. Someone once asked me: “Do you know how to make God laugh?” Make a plan.

It was only one short year ago. We had just bought a new house in Farmville, North Carolina. We told several members of our church family that we were there to stay. “Eastern North Carolina is our home,” we said. “We have no plans to ever move again,” we said. Well, you never know.

This type of surprise is what I would call a God-ordained surprise, a divine, holy surprise. I think it would also be fair to call it a “Pentecostal surprise.”

Pentecost, that time and place when and where “suddenly” (“suddenly”—now there’s a good Pentecostal word, a word that denotes great surprise), “suddenly a sound like the blowing of a violent wind came from heaven and filled the whole house.”

Then they saw what seemed to be tongues of fire that separated and came to rest on each of them. All of them were filled with the Holy Spirit and began to speak in other tongues as the Holy Spirit enabled them.

You just never know.

But that is not the only thing that surprised them.

Now there were staying in Jerusalem God-fearing Jews from every nation under heaven. ⁶ When they heard this sound, a crowd came together in bewilderment, because each one heard their own language being spoken. ⁷ Utterly amazed, they asked: “Aren’t all these who are speaking Galileans? ⁸ Then how is it that each of us hears them in our native language?

You just really never know do you

It’s what Joel was talking about when he said, young men will see visions and old men will dream dreams and sons and daughters will prophesy. You never know.

I believe this is exactly what Jesus was trying to explain to Nicodemus when he was describing the life of the believer. It is what happens to a person when that person no longer lives by the flesh but by the spirit of God living in them.

We read in John’s gospel:

“You should not be surprised at my saying, ‘You must be born anew.’ The wind blows wherever it pleases. You hear its sound, but you cannot tell where it comes from or where it is going. So it is with everyone born of the Spirit.”

In other words, “Nicodemus, if you are born of the Spirit, if you are filled with the Spirit, and if you are led by the Spirit, I can promise you this old friend, you will never be bored. Cause you just never know.

Last Sunday, since it was Mother’s Day, I had a longer than usual phone conversation with my mother. She told me that she had just started babysitting a two-year old little boy, while the boy’s father, who suffers with bells palsy, goes to his part-time job. My mother, whose grandchildren are all grown, who is not in the best of health, is now caring for a toddler almost daily, ministering to a young family in need in a way she could have never dreamed. You never know.

My sister called me later that day. We talked about mama taking care of this little boy, how she is helping out this struggling family. It was then my sister said, “Oh Jarrett, Mama is not helping them out as much as they are helping her. That little boy has given mama a reason to get up in the morning. That boy is what keeps mama going. That boy and that family is ministering to mama. You never know.

You never know when God reveals greater purpose for your life, a purpose that is bigger than your life, plans that are bigger than your plans. You never know when your life might change and change dramatically.

One Sunday Jesus rides into Jerusalem celebrated as King of the Jews by children with palm branches singing Hosanna. A few days later the shouts of Hosanna turn into shouts of “crucify him, crucify him.”

On Sunday they throw you a parade. On Friday they crucify you between two thieves and bury you in a tomb.

But here is the good news, “Although your world is turned completely upside down, even if you are buried in a tomb that is sealed with a stone, the good news is, are you ready? The good news of our faith is: “you never know.”

Mary Magdalene and the other Mary, trying to comprehend what had happened, how in a blink of an eye, their whole world changed, went to see the tomb.

And before they knew it, it happens. “Suddenly (there’s that great Pentecostal word again), there was a great earthquake. And in the midst of their surprise, an angel of the Lord descended from heaven and came and rolled back the stone and sat on it and surprised them even more. You never know.

The angel said to the women “Do not be afraid; I know that you are looking for Jesus who was crucified. He is not here. For he has been raised, as he said. Come, see the place where he lay. Then, go quickly and tell his disciples. “He has been raised from the dead, and indeed he is going ahead of you to Galilee; there you will see him. This is my message for you.”

“Then, we are told, “Suddenly, Jesus met them and said, “Greetings!” “And the women came to him,” and did the only thing they could do, “They took hold of his feet, and worshiped him.” Then Jesus said, “Do not be afraid; go and tell my brothers to go to Galilee; there they will see me.”

Hold on! I thought the women were in Galilee. For that is what the angel had said, “He is going ahead of you to Galilee, there you will see him.” The angel even bolsters these instructions by saying, “This is my message to you.” But where do they see Jesus? Somewhere along to road to Galilee. The angel’s wrong. The good news of the gospel is: even the angels just never know.

And listen, if the angels do not know exactly when or where the Risen Christ will suddenly appear with a presence and with words which cause us to take a hold of his feet and worship him, how can any of us presume to know?

Thus, as Christians we should never despair, that is, we should never believe that things have gotten so bad that the Holy Spirit of the risen Christ might not show up. Because we never know.

The good news is that when our lives are suddenly surprised by evil, Christ will always come, suddenly, perhaps when and where and in ways we least expect it, but he will suddenly come nonetheless and surprise us some more.

The risen Christ will suddenly come and change our world forever. And Christ will do so until that day comes when the Spirit utterly amazes all disciples with the undeserving gift of eternal life, a life that is so amazing and so wonderful, that until we experience it, we will never know.

Until that day comes, the Holy Spirit is here. The Holy Spirit is here touching each person in this place. Calling each person here to use his or her gifts to be the embodiment of the living Christ to meet the needs of people in our community and in our world in ways we’ve never dreamed.

Think of what would happen if every believer in this church truly answered this call of God’s Spirit, truly believed that the Holy Spirit has a greater purpose for your life, a purpose that is bigger than your life, plans that are bigger than your plans, a purpose that will not only bring you a sense of fulfillment and satisfaction, but one that will be the reason you get up in the morning.

Imagine what this church would look like, how this community would change if every believer suddenly commits him or herself to follow the Holy Spirit of Christ wherever he leads.

Well, you just never know!

The Seal Broken

On March 27, 2016 By Rev. Dr. Jarrett BanksIn EasterLeave a comment

stone rolled away

Matthew 27:62-28:10

During our very meaningful Tenebrae service on Friday night, we listened to the voices of Good Friday. “Father, if it is possible, let this cup pass from me; yet not what I want, but what you want.”

“Are you still sleeping and taking your rest? See, the hour is at hand, and the Son of Man is betrayed into the hands of sinners. Get up, let us be going. See my betrayer is at hand.”

“The one I will kiss is the man; arrest him.”

“Have you come out with swords and clubs to arrest me as though I were a bandit?”

“Then all of the disciples deserted him and fled.”

“He has blasphemed! Why do we still need witnesses? He deserves death. Then they slapped him and spat in his face.”

“You were also with Jesus, the Galilean.” “I do not know what you are talking about.”

“This man was with Jesus of Nazareth.” “I do not know the man.”

“Certainly you are also one of them, for your accent betrays you.”

“’I do not know the man!’ And the cock crowed.”

“I have sinned by betraying innocent blood.” “Judas then went out and hanged himself.”

“Are you the King of the Jews?”

“Release to us Barabbas.” “Crucify Jesus.” “Let him be crucified.”

“I am innocent of this man’s blood, see to it yourselves.”

“Hail, King of the Jews!”

“You, who would destroy the Temple and build it in three days, save yourself!” “If you are the Son of God, come down from the cross.” “He saved others, yet cannot save himself.”

“Eli, Eli, lema sa-bach-tha-ni? My God, my God, why have your forsaken me?”

“Command the tomb to be made secure. You have a guard of soldiers; go, make it as secure as you can.” “So they went with the guard and made the tomb secure by sealing the stone.”

These are the voices of Good Friday: voices of betrayal; voices of denial; voices of disappointment; voices of hate; voices of cruelty; voices of finality; voices of no turning back; voices of no moving forward; voices of death. “Make the tomb as secure as you can. Seal the stone.”

And the reality is that you did not have to attend either the service on Thursday or Friday to hear these voices. For we live in a Good Friday World, don’t we?

We’ve heard these voices just this week.

Yesterday from Utah: “A woman heading to her mother’s funeral has died in a car crash.”

From Iraq on Friday: “A suicide attacker detonated an explosive belt in a park outside Baghdad on Friday, killing 41 people and wounding over 50 more.”

From Oklahoma City on Thursday: “The state medical examiner’s office said bones recovered from near Lake Stanley Draper are human.

Oklahoma City police Master Sgt. Gary Knight said police received a call Monday that bones, clothing and personal effects had been discovered near the lake.”

From North Carolina on Wednesday: “In a bill that zoomed through with head-spinning speed, lawmakers blocked cities and counties from protecting people from discrimination.”

From Brussels on Tuesday: “Two suicide bombers blew themselves up in Brussels airport, killing 11 people, and a third man detonated a suicide bomb one hour later in an underground train in central Brussels, killing 20 more.”

From Indiana on Monday: “Indiana Sheriff’s deputy shot dead. Partner seriously injured after serving search warrant.”

And from Enid this week: “I can’t believe she talks about me behind my back.”

“Why does he have to be so hateful?”

“I don’t even know who you are anymore.”

“Why won’t my children come and visit me?”

“My wife is having part of her foot removed next week. We are just waiting for the doctor to call with the exact day and time.”

“Since my back surgery, I am still dealing with a lot of pain.”

“She needs a root canal. He needs braces.”

“I owe thousands in taxes this year. And I don’t know where the money is going to come from. I am already working more hours now than by body and mind can stand.”

“I’m never going to be able to forgive myself. “I have never been so embarrassed in my whole life.” “I simply can’t continue going on like this.”

“My mother really doesn’t like the nursing home. She believes we are all plotting against her. I think my father may have Alzheimer’s.”

“Her baby was born three months premature. My sister has been having chest pains. My brother’s arthritis is about to get the best of him. The doctor said my tumor is malignant and inoperable. I still can’t believe that my wife is gone. I have never felt so alone and so depressed. At times, I just want to go to sleep and never wake up.”

These are the voices of Good Friday, and they echo throughout our world without ceasing, sometimes overwhelming us. Every time we turn around there is something else in our Good Friday world to worry about. There is no escape. It is like being entombed in sepulcher for all of eternity by a large stone that has been sealed shut by soldiers.

So, now let us hear another voice. It is a voice called Easter. It is a voice called resurrection, a voice called hope.

“As the first day of the week was dawning. . .” (Sounds hopeful already, doesn’t it?) As a new day, a new week was dawning, was beginning anew, fresh, bright, giving a chance to the promise of hope, “Mary Magdalene and the other Mary went to see the tomb. And suddenly there was a great earthquake; for an angel of the Lord, descending from heaven, came and rolled back the stone and sat one it.”

In our Good Friday world, oh how we need to hear this voice of Easter— this voice that says that our God who gave God’s all for us on the cross is so awesome, so good, so great, so much bigger than all of the cruelty and evil of the world, that God does not have to lift one finger, but sends an angel to break the seal that entombs all of us who are shrouded by the evil of our Good Friday world.

The Good Friday world says: “Seal it up.” Then our Easter God, without flinching a muscle, sends one meek angel to break the seal—an angel who then sits upon the stone and says the most hopeful words found in the entire Bible: “Do not be afraid; I know you are looking for Jesus, who was crucified. He is not here; for he has been raised, as he said.”

The world says seal it up. The world says things are not going to get any better. The world says the good old days are long gone. The world says that evil will get the best of us. The world says that God is either a fairy tale, is powerless, or has taken some cosmic vacation. The world says death is final.

Then God without lifting a finger breaks the seal and says: “I am always working all things together for the good. Through the breaking of the seal, God says to us that the best days of our lives are always yet to come. Gods says, although we cannot go back to the good old days, good new days are dawning. God says that nothing in this world is final, not even death. God says I can, and I will transform all of your despair into hope, all of your defeats into victory, all of your pain into joy, and even all of your deaths into life.”

The world says: “seal it up; you will never amount to anything. You’re a loser. You are insignificant. You are worthless. You are not a good person. Nobody really cares about you. You are pitiful. No matter how hard you try, sin always has a way of getting the best of you. Perhaps you’d be better off dead. Seal it up.”

God breaks the seal and says: “I love you and suffered for you and died for you and raised Jesus to life for you, just as you are. There is nothing you could possible do to earn my love. I will always be with you and never away from you. I will always be for you and never against you. I will always stay by your side fighting for you, doing all that I can to wring whatever good can be wrung out of all of your misery.” God says “I will give you an Easter Faith to live victoriously in your Good Friday world.”

“Through eyes and ears of Easter faith you will see my resurrecting presence all around and hear my voice everywhere. You will be able to see it in flowers and in the trees. You will read it in a card sent to you by a friend. You will experience through the smile of a child.”

You can know it through the devotion of a Sunday School teacher. You can experience it through the woman who serves meals in the soup kitchen the needy. You can experience it with the church group who visits the nursing home; see it in the one who volunteers at the hospital; through the family who gives sacrificially and faithfully to the church, through missionaries who have given their lives to serve in third world countries, through encouraging words, handshakes, hugs, through a meal prepared; a lawn mowed, a house painted, a petition signed.

You can hear it through the confessions of faith from two young men being baptized.

God says you can hear it and see it and sense it and know it through people who by my grace are living an Easter Faith in a Good Friday world. You can see it when and wherever justice finally prevails and love ultimately wins.

During this coming week, you will not have to pay close attention to continue to hear the voices of Good Friday. You will quite possibly hear them even before this Easter Sunday ends. My hope and prayer is that as people living an Easter faith, we will continue to raise our Easter voices: voices of hope; voices of justice; voices of equality; voices of peace and love; voices of life; voices of a new day dawning; voices of a tomb whose seal has been broken on this day and forevermore.

Spring Is in the Air

On March 18, 2016March 18, 2016 By Rev. Dr. Jarrett BanksIn Lent, UncategorizedLeave a comment

lilies

“As he was now approaching the path down from the Mount of Olives, the whole multitude of the disciples began to praise God joyfully with a loud voice for all the deeds of power that they had seen, saying, ‘Blessed is the king who comes in the name of the Lord! Peace in heaven, and glory in the highest heaven!’

Some of the Pharisees in the crowd said to him, ‘Teacher, order your disciples to stop.’ He answered, ‘I tell you, if these were silent, the stones would shout out’”(Luke 19:37-40).

This year, I believe what makes Holy Week special in Oklahoma is the way it corresponds with the unmistakable arrival of spring. The freezing temperatures of this Palm Sunday weekend appear to be the last gasp of winter. It is as if the entire creation is joyfully crying out with a loud voice: “Blessed is the king who comes in the name of the Lord!”

Trees budding; thunder booming; flowers blooming; grass greening; lilies rising; birds singing; sun shining—our world seems to be proclaiming that death has finally been transformed into life! It is Holy Week, and spring and hope and good news is literally in the air.

As disciples of the Lord, our mission is to share this good news with all people. And if we do not do it, Jesus says that the earth itself will shout out! May the arrival of spring remind us each day of this mission.

When we see new leaves in the trees dancing in warm breezes with new life, may we be reminded to hug those experiencing grief and loss.

When we hear the thunder, may we be reminded to comfort those who are afraid.

When we see flowers opening their blossoms toward the sun, may we be reminded to offer a smile and a kind word to those who are discouraged.

When we walk on green grass, may we be reminded to welcome those who feel lost and marginalized.

When we see lilies rise from the earth, may we be reminded to stand tall for justice on the behalf of the victims of narrow-minded bigotry.

When we hear the birds singing harmoniously together, may we be reminded to worship together in community.

And when we feel the warmth of the sun on our faces, may we be reminded to always let the light of love shine brightly for all people.

God Fights for Us – Remembering Jane Puckett

On February 15, 2016 By Rev. Dr. Jarrett BanksIn Memorials1 Comment

3597981

I believe this ground, this sacred place where tears have cried a river, is reminiscent of that place the Israelites found themselves in after they were liberated from Egyptian bondage.

With Pharaoh’s army advancing behind them, it was as if their whole world was suddenly crashing down upon them. Because standing before them stood what they perhaps feared the most, the Red Sea. It stood before them like the casket of a loved one for it most certainly represented the end of the line, the end of dreams, the end of hopes. For the Israelites, encamped by the sea with an army closing in behind them, the sea represented certain death.

Overcome by fear, the Israelites did not know what to do. They could not go back to the good old days, and going forward into the promise of good new days seemed impossible. Paralyzed by grief, unable to take one step forward, they did the only thing they could do. They cried out. They cried out to the Lord. They cried out to Moses. They cried out to anyone who would hear. They cried out in disbelief. They cried out in anger. They cried out in fear. They cried out in grief.

But then, the good news. Moses said to the people: “Do not be afraid, stand firm, and see the deliverance that the Lord will accomplish for you today; for the Egyptians whom you see today, you shall never see again. The Lord will fight for you, and you have only to keep still.” (Exodus 14: 13-14).

And we know the rest of the story: The Red Sea was not the end of the line. It was not the end of their dreams. It was not the end of their hopes.

“Then Moses stretched out his hand over the sea. The Lord drove the sea back by a strong east wind all night, and turned the sea into dry land; and the waters were divided.”

Then the same Israelites who were unable to move forward, unable to see beyond the sea, or the casket in front of them, rose up and walked into the sea of their fear as if it were dry ground. They rose up and moved forward into the future with a renewed confidence and a resurrected strength. And this is how they were able to make it to yet unimaginable promised land.

Gary, Josh, Heidi, Amy and Mike, although you cannot go back to the good old days, this is how you and your family will be able to move forward this day into unimaginable good new days. The good news is that the Lord will fight for you. And the really good news is that you only have to stand firm and keep still.

There is no other way that I can possibly explain the industrious strength and the unfailing patience of Jane Puckett. There is no other explanation for her tenacious work ethic, serving her country working for Vance Air Force Base with aircraft maintenance for 42 years. She only recently retired because her unbeknownst cancer made her work physically impossible.

And how else do you account for her courageous battle she fought once she discovered her stage-four cancer that started in her lungs but had metastasized into her brain? How do you explain someone who was as sick Jane, but never complained?

And if anyone had any reason to complain it was her. To work as hard as she did for 42 long years without the opportunity to enjoy a well-earned retirement would make even the sweetest personality bitter. The truth is: a diagnosis like Jane changes most people.

But not Jane. Jane remained firm. She was still the sweet, fun-loving person that she had always been.

The one who loved to go snow skiing in Colorado and water skiing in Canton Lake.

The one who loved to patiently cross stitch gifts for her family and friends.

The one who loved to make baby blankets that were so beautiful that the mothers who received them would hang them on the wall for all to see instead of wrapping them around their babies.

The one who never said anything negative about anyone else.

The one with terminal cancer who had every right to be jealous of those who arbitrarily live into their seventies, eighties and nineties, but still refused to join in any conversation that demeaned another.

The one refused to be bitter and impatient with anyone, including herself and God.

She was still the same firm and patient one who not only tried to make caramel once, only to have it explode sending its sticky shrapnel flying all over her kitchen, but she was the one who had the audacious forbearance to try it again, albeit with the same result.

Even with a terminal disease, she was still the same person who loved to sit on the back porch with Gary and her beloved pet Weazer enjoying a cold drink on a summer evening, thanking God for the gift of her life.

Now, some may say that her kids should probably take some credit for some of her patience and strength, for they were both known to test it a time or two or thirty. Like the time one winter Josh decided to go skiing in the back yard. However, the flat plains of Oklahoma have never been very conducive to backyard snow skiing. But Josh, being a crafty and smart kid, some would argue “perhaps a little too smart for his own good,” decided he would ski off the roof of the house.

Sitting inside, Amy was watching the snow fall out the window, when here comes Josh flying off the roof like some Nordic Olympic ski jumper. “Mama, Josh just skied off the roof!”

Amy also remembers trying her mama’s patience by doing foolish things like walking through a glass door, without first opening that door, requiring a multitude of stitches.

However, as much as these kids tried her patience and tested her strength, I still believe that her strength, her courage, and her patience, especially in the face of her illness, came from a much higher place. I believe it came from the God who continually whispered words to her throughout her living and perhaps especially in her dying. It was the same words whispered to Moses and to the Israelites when they were tested in the wilderness: “The Lord will fight for you, and all you have to do is be still.”

The good news is that her fight is now over. Jane has crossed the sea. Her enemy, her cancer, has been defeated like Pharaoh’s army. She has been led by a pillar of fire and cloud, led by the very hand of God, into a promised land.

And the good news is that as the Lord fought for her, the Lord will fight for you too, and all you have to do is be still. Be still, and then move forward, holding onto one another, holding onto the memory of Jane’s courage and strength, while holding onto the hand of God.

I want to close by reading some words that I read at my grandmother’s graveside service. She also died in her sixties with lung cancer that also had metastasized. However, because of her courage and strength, because she, like Jane, never complained, never had a bitter bone in her body, never uttered a word of malice against anyone, there was no doubt in my mind that before she died, God was there fighting with her and for her. And I knew that everything was going to be alright. The following are those words (author unknown):

Although Cancer seems to destroy so much, when God is fighting for us, it is obvious that there are many things that cancer cannot do. Cancer, in fact, is very limited in the presence of God. [Like my grandmother, Jane Puckett was a testimony of this].

Cancer is limited.

Cancer cannot cripple love.

It cannot shatter hope.

It cannot corrode faith.

It cannot eat away peace.

It cannot destroy confidence.

It cannot kill friendship.

It cannot shut out memories.

It cannot silence courage.

It cannot invade the soul.

It cannot reduce eternal life.

It cannot quench the Spirit.

It cannot lessen the power of the resurrection.

Thanks be to God.

Good News of Christmas

On December 24, 2015December 24, 2015 By Rev. Dr. Jarrett BanksIn Advent and ChristmasLeave a comment

Sermon preached at Mt. Moriah Community Church’s Christmas Concert, Farmville, December 23, 2015

Luke 2:1-7 NRSV

No place. No room.

Adam and Eve were in the garden trying to cover up their sins. Ashamed of what they had done, ashamed of who they had become, they saw no way out. So they went into hiding. But what they did not know was that even if they used all of the fig leaves in the garden, there was no place on earth they could hide from God.

As the sun was about to set on them, literally and figuratively, they heard a rustling in the trees, footsteps in the grass, for God showed up! And although they could not go back to the good old days and undo their mistakes, God surprised them by using God’s own hands, making garments of skin and clothing them with grace.

Consumed with hate, Cain kills his brother Abel. He is exiled from the garden into the land of Nod. But just when he thought his new place would be God-forsaken, God forgotten, God-cursed, God showed up and put a mark of protection, a mark of mercy on Cain which would stay on him for the rest of his life.

Abraham and Sarah were enjoying retirement. Their old age, frail bodies and declining health told them that there was no way they could ever be used by God. They were in no place to ever make a difference. But just when they thought they could just sit back, watch the Wheel of Fortune and Jeopardy and just turn in, God showed up with a purpose that was so miraculous, it caused them to laugh out loud!

Moses was a fugitive on the run. Running from his sins. Running from himself. Running from God. Then, just when he thought he was in a place where he had run away from it all, a bush suddenly bursts into flames. God showed up. God showed up saying, “I’m sending you Moses, yes, you Moses, a sinner with a speech impediment and a thousand other excuses, I am anointing you to stand up to the Pharaoh to proclaim good news to the poor, freedom for the prisoners and recovery of sight to the blind, to set the oppressed free.”

Soon after the children Israel were set free from slavery, they they hit a dead end with Moses in the wilderness. Pharaoh’s army was advancing behind them and the Red Sea stood before him. There was no way to escape. No place to go. Then, when they had all but given up, complaining to Moses that they would have been better off dead back in Egypt, at the very moment they lost all faith and all hope, God showed up. God showed up and made a way when there was no way. God showed up and brought hope in the midst of despair, faith in the midst of doubt, victory in the midst of defeat and life in the midst of certain death.

It was a dangerous time in a dangerous world. Mary, who was with child, and her betrothed husband Joseph, were on the road to pay taxes to a puppet king in an occupied territory. The road was long, and being with child made the road especially difficult. And to make things more difficult, when it was time for the baby to be born, they discovered that there was no room in the inn. There was no room.

But this was not the first time God heard these words. There is no room. There is no place. There is no way. There is no hope.

So, as God had proved over and over throughout history that there is nothing in all of creation that can separate the world from God’s love, God, once again, showed up! In spite of every demonic power that tried to thwart God’s coming, God came.

And the good news of Christmas is that God still comes. And there is nothing in all of creation, nor things above nor below, nor angels nor rulers, nor things present nor things to come, nor life nor death that can stop God from coming.

Last Sunday I shared the story about a certain Christmas play that a local church was presenting. You know the kind. I used to be in one every year when I was growing up. Three boys playing shepherds are bare-footed, wearing bath robes with towels wrapped around their heads and carrying long sticks. And three more boys playing wise men wearing cardboard Burger-King crowns wrapped in Reynolds Wrap are carrying boxes decorated with left-over Christmas garland. They all walk up on the chancel, greet Mary and Joseph, and bow down before the baby Jesus.

Well, during one particular play, after the wise men and shepherds came and bowed before Jesus, a spokesperson for the wise men made an announcement: “We three kings have traveled from the East to bring the baby Jesus gifts of gold, circumstance and mud.” Of course, laughter filled the sanctuary.

But you know what they say: “out of the mouth of babes.”

The truth is that when God wanted to reveal God’s love for the world, God came to us through the person of Jesus born in Bethlehem to meet us in all of our circumstances.

Through Christ, God came Adam and Eve and God and comes to meet us hiding in our circumstance of sin and shame and offer us forgiveness.

Through Christ, God came to Cane and God comes to meet us in our circumstance of living in a hate-filled, seemingly God-forsaken and God-cursed world and offers us mercy.

Through Christ, God came to Abraham and Sarah and God comes to us to meet us in the circumstance of our old age, tired bodies and declining health and offers us new life.

Through Christ, God came to Moses and God comes to meet us in the circumstance of our wandering and our running and offers us a divine purpose.

Through Christ, God came to the children of Israel and God comes to us in our circumstances of dead ends and utter despair and offers us a new way and a new hope.

Through Christ, God came to Mary and Joseph and God comes to us in the circumstance of being told there is no room for you, there is no place for you, there is no way for you, and there is no hope for you and says, “Oh, yes there is!”

The good news of Christmas is that God comes to us in all of our circumstances and offers us the assurance that there is no circumstance on earth or in heaven beyond God’s amazing grace.

And coming as a human being, coming into the world as a fleshly body, a body made up of dust and water, God comes and joins us in our mud and all of our muck.

Through Christ, God came into and still comes into our muck of pain and offers comfort.

Through Christ, God came into and still comes into our muck of sickness and brings healing.

Through Christ, God came into and still comes into our muck of loneliness and shares divine presence.

Through Christ, God came into and still comes into our muck of fear and gives peace.

The world says that there is no room, that things are not going to get any better. The world says there is no way, that the good old days are long gone. The world says that there is no place where evil will not get the best of you. The world says there is no hope because in the end, everyone dies.

Then a young woman named Mary goes into labor as God says: “I am always working all things together for the good!” A baby cries in the darkness as God says: “The best days of life are always before you.” The child cries in the night as God says: “Although you cannot go back to the good old days, good new days are always coming, even if you are about to draw your last breath!”

The world says: “There is no room. You will never amount to anything. You are a loser. You are insignificant. You are worthless. You are not a good person.”

The world says: “There is no way. No matter how hard you try, sin always has a way of getting the best of you. You’ve made too many mistakes.”

The world says: “There is no place for you as nobody really cares about you.”

The world says: “There is no hope. You and this world would be better off if you were dead. For you, there is no room, no way, no place, no hope.”

Then a baby is wrapped in bands of cloth born to underserving, unwed teenagers in an occupied land, as God says: “I love you just as you are, and I come to wrap you in my mercy, clothe you with my grace. I know your sins and I forgive you. I will always be with you and never away from you. I will always be for you and never against you. I will always stay by your side fighting for you, even if it means dying for you.”

The world says: “There is no way the churches in this town will ever work together. Racism will never end. Bigotry will never cease. The railroad tracks will always divide. There is no room for compromise. There is no place for reconciliation. There is no hope for unity.”

Then a brown-skinned baby’s birth to a Hebrew woman is announced by angels: “I am bringing you good news of great joy for all the people: white and black, red and brown, Aramaic-speaking and foreign-speaking, gay and straight, rich and poor, documented and undocumented, citizen and refugee. For you, all of you, a baby is born who is Christ the Lord and through him there is no longer Jew or gentile, slave or free, male or female for all are one.”

The good news of Christmas is although the world often seems dark, the light of God will not be diminished.

The good news of Christmas is although racism and bigotry will try to divide us, the good news that unites us will not whitewashed.

Although the sounds of guns and violence are deafening, the Word of God will not be silenced.

Although the rich will always try to rob the poor, the justice of God will not be defeated.

Although the powerful rule with fear, the prince of peace will not be conquered.

Although hate seems to have its way, love will not lose.

Although sin seems to get the best of us, grace will not fail.

Although despair seems to overwhelm, hope will not fade.

Although death seems to be final, the kingdom of God will reign forever and ever.

Hallelujah. Hallelujah. Merry Christmas.

Just Love

Tag: hope

Life Like a Country Song: Remembering Robert Dean Shaw

Do This and Live

Between the Verses

The Hands of God

Her Jug Will Never Fail: Remembering Delcea Batterman

You Never Know

The Seal Broken

Spring Is in the Air

God Fights for Us – Remembering Jane Puckett

Good News of Christmas

Share this:

Share this:

Share this:

Share this:

Share this:

Share this:

Share this:

Share this:

Share this:

Share this: