Tag: hope

Peace Be with You: Remembering Albert Mosley

On By Rev. Dr. Jarrett BanksIn MemorialsLeave a comment

Albert Mosley 1 (3)In the sixteenth chapter, the 33rd verse of John’s gospel, we read words of Jesus that cannot be more true: “In the world you will have tribulation.”

Jesus didn’t say we might or we may have tribulation. Jesus said that we will have “tribulation.” Other translations read: “torment,” “trials,” “trouble,” “sufferings,” “distress” or “persecution.”

In this world, we will suffer. In this world, we will lose people we love, sometimes tragically. In this world, we will be injured, sometimes in terrible accidents. In this world, we will be diagnosed with sickness, sometimes with dreadful diseases. In this world, we will have failed relationships, sometimes divorce. Jesus said that in this world suffering is inevitable.

Albert Mosley could certainly testify to this truth.

Albert had just started high school here in Farmville when his father tragically committed suicide. Later, Albert, himself, would be critically injured on the football field. Years later, there would be the sudden and untimely loss of his mother, a risky back surgery, a grim diagnosis of Addison’s disease, broken relationships, the loss his best friend Ronnie Avery, incessant physical pain, diabetes, debilitating strokes and blindness.

Now, if this was the only testimony that Albert Mosley’s life could give, that in this world, we will have tribulation; then today would certainly be a sad and tragic day for all of us. However, the good news is that this was only a small part of Albert’s testimony.

Jesus said: “In this world, you will have tribulation.” Now, let’s read the entirety of this verse: Jesus said: “I have said these things to you, that in me you may have peace. In the world you will have tribulation. But take heart; I have overcome the world.” (John 16:33).

After Albert lost his father, Albert did not hesitate to courageously become the man of the house, take care of and look after his mother, his six siblings, maybe especially, his little sister, Donna. Albert resonated with the great song by Clarence Carter, “Patches,” intentionally becoming the one that his family could always depend upon.

In spite of the tragic loss of his father and the increased responsibilities for his family, Albert somehow miraculously managed to excel in school. And in spite of some very good reasons to be bitter and angry, Albert possessed such a sweet and loving disposition that the girls in this town affectionately called him “teddy bear.”

However, I am certain that no one called him a teddy bear on the football field. Albert was an exceptional athlete, a strong, ferocious hitter. Perhaps football became the outlet for some of some of his anger that he had to have harbored. He hit someone so hard one night when Farmville was playing at Ayden, that it put Albert in the hospital where he was in a coma for three weeks.

And yet again, although he had even more reasons to become angry or bitter at life, Albert took heart and persevered.

After he recovered, he finished high school and went on to Atlantic Christian College, where he again continued to excel, earning the prestigious Top Hat Award. After college he went on to get a Masters in Education degree at Old Dominion University. Upon graduation, he taught school briefly until he was quickly promoted to principal.

Later, he became Vice President of the Virginia National Bank in Franklin, Virginia and in 1982 was awarded the “Boss of the Year” Award from the Franklin Jaycees. He was also awarded the #1 Jaycee President Award in the state of Virginia.

Then, as Jesus promised all of us, more tribulation would come to Albert, this time in the form of sickness and disease. However, in spite of every tribulation in his life, Albert always miraculously found a way to persevere, to love his life, and to love others. You could see it on the dance floor when you watched him Shag, Twist or do the Gator. In spite of everything, Albert was still the sweet, pleasant, fun-loving teddy bear.

I met Albert twelve or thirteen years ago. He had retired and moved back to Farmville to be with the family he loved. He had experienced many more ups and downs in his life. I watched him grieve deeply when his friend Ronnie passed away, and I witnessed his health continue to decline. The truth is that I have watched him suffer perhaps more than anyone I know. I cannot count the times I have visited him in the hospital and doubted that he would ever make it home.

Yet, I never heard him, not one time, not even in the hospital or in the nursing home, ever complain or grumble. Even when he lost his eye sight, his ability to walk, his ability to swallow just a sip of Diet Pepsi, Albert remained positive. In fact, I never heard him say anything negative, about himself or anyone for that matter. Even in his darkest moments of life, he loved his life, and loved those who were in his life.

Bro was always more concerned about others, than he was himself, especially his siblings. No matter how sick he was, if you asked him, he was always fine. And then he would ask you about others.

Doctor J,” he would say, lying in the hospital, unable to see, blood sugar over 200; “Have you seen Donna? How’s ol’ Carson and Sara doing? How are things going at the church? I got to get myself straight so I can come back there.”

And nearly every time before I left his side, even in ICU after his debilitating stroke in November, he would miraculously say to me, “Peace be with you.” And the miracle was not only that Albert could speak those words of peace, but was how it was obvious to all that in spite of every tribulation, Albert actually possessed this miraculous peace. And he truly wanted to share it with others.

The only way that can possibly explain how Albert endured the tribulations of his life is that the God of Jesus, somehow, some miraculous way came to Albert, obviously since he was a young boy, and filled him with this peace that surpasses all human understanding.

The disciples of Jesus also knew something about the ups and downs of life. Like a star football player, a teddy bear that the girls adored, or the vice president of a bank, the disciples had experienced some very high moments in life. They were with Jesus when he healed the sick, gave sight to the blind and raised the dead. Some of them even went to the mountaintop with Jesus and stood with him in the very presence of God. They rode triumphantly into Jerusalem with Jesus as little children lined the streets waving their palm branches.

And the disciples certainly knew something about tribulation. They were with Jesus when he was arrested in the garden. Some betrayed him. Others denied him. They all deserted him. They had made mistake after mistake, and they knew it. And they watched in horror as the one for whom they left their families and all forms of worldly security be tried, tortured and crucified.

Three days later, John writes that they were cowering in fear in a locked room. Rumors were floating all over town that the body of Jesus had been stolen, and the ones who destroyed Jesus and had taken his body would soon come to destroy and take them.

So, there they were, cowering behind locked doors. They could not have been more afraid. They were not unlike: a small boy who discovers his father’s suicide; a star athlete who is severely injured on a football field; or a well-respected and successful professional whose declining health had stripped nearly everything from him.

Then Jesus comes. We can’t explain how. The doors are locked. The windows are barred. But Jesus somehow, some miraculous way comes; he stands among them, and says: “Peace be with you.”

And this is not some superficial word of peace that denies or overlooks human tribulation and suffering. It is a genuine word of peace that acknowledges the pain of life, recognizes the wounds of today, but also the certain hope of a better tomorrow. Jesus shows them the wounds in his side and in his hands and says again, “Peace be with you. As the Father has sent me, so I send you. When he had said this, he breathed on them and said to them, ‘Receive the Holy Spirit. If you forgive the sins of any, they are forgiven them; if you retain the sins of any, they are retained.’”

The disciples then went out and lived the rest of their lives sharing the grace and peace of Christ with others. And they shared it to the end, even in the face of great persecution, suffering and death.

This is how I will always remember Bro. Like the first disciples, Albert was an imperfect man who suffered much tribulation in this world. However, although I cannot fully explain it, it was obvious to all that knew him that Jesus, somehow, some miraculous way, came to him. Through the love and faithfulness of his wife Ginny, certainly; through the love of his family and friends, definitely; and through divine and mysterious ways that surpasses all human understanding, Jesus came to him and filled him with this genuine peace, and then, sent him out into the world forgiving others, loving others, sharing the peace of Christ with other.

Days before Albert died, Becky said that Albert asked her if Chester could maybe spend the night with him in the nursing home. Becky said, for the first time, I could tell that he was somewhat afraid. And who would not be? In a nursing home, blind, nearly paralyzed, dying: he had more reasons to be afraid than anyone.

However, Becky said that when Albert breathed his last breath on Tuesday, that she had never seen anything so peaceful. I drove her and Chester home from the nursing home that day, and she kept saying, all the way home, “Thank you God, thank you God.”

The good news for all of us is that we have the certain hope that, once more, when Albert experienced his final tribulation on this earth, somehow, some miraculous way, Jesus once again came to Albert, as Jesus had obviously came so many times before, and lovingly tugged Albert’s ear saying: “Peace be with you. Peace I leave with you; my peace I give to you. I do not give to you as the world gives. Do not let your heart be troubled, and do not let it be afraid” (John 14:27). Jesus came to him and filled him once more with a peace that is beyond all understanding, and this time, it is for eternity.

May this wonderful truth give peace to all of us who are still experiencing the tribulations of this world this day, tribulations that will continue in the days ahead. Through the memory of Bro, may we hear the risen Christ speak to us words that cannot be more true: “Peace be with you.”

A Mother’s Love

On By Rev. Dr. Jarrett BanksIn MemorialsLeave a comment
Alawoise
Alawoise and Harold on their wedding day, April 18, 1958

The following was written for the memorial service for Alawoise Strickland Flanagan (July 29, 1935 – February 9, 2015)

In the very first chapter of our Bible, we have a beautiful portrait of the human vocation—a portrait of who we human beings were created to be, how we were created to live, during the relatively short time we have on this good earth.

So God created humankind in his image, in the image of God he created them; male and female he created them. God blessed them, and God said to them, ‘Be fruitful and multiply, and fill the earth… (Genesis 1:27-28a).

With our thoughts this hour on the enormous Flanagan family, perhaps one of the first things that we glean from this portrait of who we were created to be, and how we were created to live, is: “Be fruitful and multiply.”

Harold and Alawoise certainly fulfilled this part of the human vocation, and they wasted no time in doing so. It was on this day, Valentine’s Day in 1958, that Harold proposed marriage to his Valentine, Alawoise.

Before the luncheon today, I said, “Harold, let me get this straight. You proposed on Valentine’s Day and were married on April 18, of the same year?

Harold said, “Did you see her nursing school picture on the communion table?”

“No,” I said. “Not yet.”

He said,  “Well go look at that pretty girl, and you will understand why I did not want to wait.”

And “to be fruitful” they also did not wait as Jerry has often been called “a honeymoon baby.”

The beautiful family portrait on this table, this order of service with participation from some of the grandchildren, and this room filled with their offspring tell the rest of their story—a story of a two Valentines fulfilling their human vocation to “be fruitful and multiply.”

However, as beautiful as this story is, as beautiful as the Flanagan family is to this community and to our world, this is just a small part of Alawoise’s story. This is only part of her fulfillment of what it means to be human on this earth, a small part of her legacy. In Genesis we first read:

“So God created humankind in his image, in the image of God he created them; male and female he created them.”

The primary way that we fulfill our human vocation, is not to be fruitful, but to be, to live, in the image of God. The good news for all for us this day is that Alawoise more than fulfilled this purpose for which she was created. As the poem recited by her granddaughter, Leigh Kathryn, so beautifully described, Alawoise perhaps best lived in the image of her God as a mother.

In Deuteronomy 32:18 we read that the Israelites are asked to remember “the Rock” that “bore” them; the God who gave them “birth.”

Throughout the Old Testament, God is portrayed as the mother of Israel. It is God who gave birth to Israel and loves Israel as a mother loves her child, unreservedly, unconditionally, tenaciously.

Growing up in the Flanagan house, there was never any doubt that Alawoise was “the Rock” who could always be counted on to love her children in the same manner. Just ask anyone who ever tried to cross any of them! As it was spoken by the prophet Hosea of God and her love of Israel: She would “fall upon them like a [mama] bear robbed of her cubs…” (Hosea 13:8a).

She was the constant care-taker, and she was the perpetual protector. As a mother, she was tried and true. And, let’s face it, let’s be honest this afternoon, I don’t know about Gayle, but you boys often tried her.

Like the time Harold taught Mark to drive a truck. Mark, how old were you? Six or seven? In trying to reach the gas-peddle, Mark recalls slipping off the seat and stomping on the gas, all the while poor Scott was sitting up high on some hay bales in the back. Well, as you can surmise, he wasn’t sitting up there very long.

Alawoise was tried by you boys with multiple broken bones, stiches, car accidents, rattle snakes, even gunshot wounds. But her love, her devotion and commitment to you never wavered, always remained true.

Even up to the time she had to go to the nursing home, each time she heard the town’s siren go off, she instinctively possessed this hair-trigger panic button that would immediately do a family roll call, one that is reminiscent of the motherly words of Jesus himself recorded by the Gospel of Luke:

Jerusalem, Jerusalem, …How often have I desired to gather your children together as a hen gathers her brood under her wings…

Even during these past difficult months, almost each time I visited her, Alawoise would do a roll call, asking me about the whereabouts of her family. Even when she was not in her right mind, lying sedated in a hospital bed, she would oftentimes ask me to help her to take things like barbeque and fried chicken off the stove for her Harold and her children.

Jerry, Gayle, Scott and Mark, and Harold, Alawoise lived her life to take care of your needs, to protect you, to love you unreservedly, unconditionally and tenaciously, and in so doing, she fulfilled the purpose for which she was created: living in the image of her motherly God and her Lord and Savior.

Now, if this was her only legacy, I believe it would be enough. However, there is much more.

The motherly love of Alawoise was in no way limited to her husband and children, or even to her grandchildren and great-grandchildren. Alawoise possessed a desire to gather many others under her maternal wings. She welcomed an exchange student and many others into the hospitality of her home. She lived to provide plenty of food, clean clothes, and a clean bed for anyone in need.

Her motherly love was experienced by many of us who have gathered here this day. We experienced it through Alawoise as a Sunday School Teacher, a deacon, a school nurse or as a Cub Scout Den Mother.

This broad and expansive motherly love of Alawoise was perhaps most ostensibly experienced during her twenty-six years as director of nursing and later as administer for the Guardian Care Nursing Home in Farmville. She loved the patients of the nursing home with the same tenacity with which she loved her own children.

She had absolutely no tolerance for any nursing home employee who did not treat a patient with the compassion. On the behalf of her patients, she did not hesitate to even stand against the company just as the prophet Isaiah spoke of God standing for her children: Thus says the Lord: “For a long time I have held my peace, I have kept still and restrained myself; now I will cry out like a woman in labor, I will gasp and pant.”

Alawoise lived in the image of God by suffering alongside and standing up for the least of these our brothers and our sisters, those who are the weakest, the most vulnerable members of society.

And for all of us who mourn this day this is truly good news. Alawoise was lived in the image of God. This means that when Alawoise suffered during these last difficult years, God, like a loving mother, also suffered. It is important for us to realize that God did not cause her suffering. God did not give her Parkinson’s disease. For what mother would do that to their child. Jesus once asked:

Is there anyone among you who, if your child asks for bread, will give a stone? Or if the child asks for a fish, will give a snake? If you then, who are evil, know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will your Father [or Mother] in heaven give good things to those who ask!

Like a woman in labor or a mama bear, suffering and fighting for her cubs, God suffered with and fought with Alawoise. God did not take Alawoise from us with Parkinson’s Disease as some may say, but when she was in her weakest, most vulnerable, broken state, God came to her and gave her the best gift God had to give—the gift of God’s complete self. Thus, the best way to describe what happened on Monday morning of this week is that God came. God did not take, but graciously gave God’s self to her— tenaciously, completely, finally, eternally.

I don’t believe there is any other way to explain the very last words she said to me. Just days before she died, after suffering more than anyone one deserves, she opened her eyes, and spoke, not words of complaint or bitterness, but words of a loving mother, or of a child who has been comforted by her heavenly mother, asking me, “And how is your family.”

And the good news is that God will do the very same for us. God will come to each of us in our grief, in our brokenness, to each of God’s beloved children, and comfort us. In Isaiah 66 we read:

You shall nurse and be carried on her arm and dandled on her knees. As a mother comforts her child, so I will comfort you; you shall be comforted in Jerusalem.

As Alawoise taught us by living her life in the image of God, it is in God’s very divine, maternal nature to extend God’s peace and comfort to us all, especially to those in need. It is the nature of our God to place those of us who are hurting this day in the shadow of God’s maternal wings.

I began my remarks this afternoon with some of the first words of our Bible. I would like to close my remarks with some of the last words of our Bible. Hear now these very maternal words from Revelation:

And I saw the holy city, the new Jerusalem, coming down out of heaven from God, prepared as a bride adorned for her husband. 3And I heard a loud voice from the throne saying, ‘See, the home* of God is among mortals. He will dwell* with them; they will be his peoples, and God himself will be with them;  he will wipe every tear from their eyes. Death will be no more; mourning and crying and pain will be no more, for the first things have passed away.

I am thankful, and I know that her family is thankful, that Alawoise fulfilled her human vocation on this earth by being fruitful and multiplying. But I believe we are more grateful this day that Alawoise fulfilled her vocation by living as she was created to live on this good earth: in the image of our motherly God who loves us all unreservedly, unconditionally, tenaciously, and eternally.

Divine Strength of John Barefoot

On By Rev. Dr. Jarrett BanksIn MemorialsLeave a comment

Exodus 17:9-13 NRSV

In the 17th chapter of the Book of Exodus we read the amazing story of how the Israelites defeated of their enemy, the Amaleks. The Amaleks were a group of nomads who attacked the Hebrews in the desert of Mount Sinai during the Exodus from Egyptian slavery. The Amaleks swooped in on the Israelites and cowardly killed those who were lagging behind: the weary, the old, the weak and frail.

For that is what the enemies of life do. They can attack us at any time, during our strongest times when we are young, but perhaps more so, during our weakest times, often when we are older. Cancer, heart disease, and debilitating strokes swoop in on many during that precious period of life that we call retirement, during that period of life where we look forward to well-earned rest, respite, and recreation.

John Barefoot was not the first person to receive a new set of golf clubs as a retirement gift that he would never use due to sickness or a disability.

And when the enemies of this life attack us, we are faced with a choice. We can surrender to our enemies; we can succumb to their attacks; or, like an old Army veteran, we can stand our ground and fight.

“Moses said to Joshua, ‘Choose some men for us and go out; and fight with Amalek.”

After faithfully serving this country in the US Army, after devoting his life to what is now Southern States, after raising two beautiful children, Roger and Linda, after thirty years of service through this community through the First Christian Church, John began to suffer debilitating strokes. Many men, in John’s shoes, surrender and succumb to such illnesses, especially after retirement. After all, they are weary and old; they no longer lack the strength within to fight. They can reach down and dig deep; however, there is just nothing left. No amount of digging will see them through.

However, men with faith in the God of Abraham and Isaac, Moses and Joshua, men with faith in the God revealed in the Risen Christ, understand that true strength does not come from within, but comes from and by the grace of God.

Moses said to Joshua: “Choose an army and fight. I, myself, retired a long time ago from fighting. I left the army years ago. I am too old, too tired, but I will stand on the top of a hill and raise the staff of God with my hands and summon the grace and strength of God to defeat our enemy.”

So Joshua did as Moses told him, and fought with Amalek, while Moses, Aaron, and Hur went up to the top of a hill.

Whenever Moses held up his hand, Moses noticed that Israel prevailed; and whenever he lowered his hand, he noticed that Amalek prevailed. [This was a certain sign that it was God, and God alone, who was giving the Israelites the grace, perseverance and strength to defeat their enemy].

There can be no other explanation for the strength and the perseverance of John Barefoot, especially during these last years of his life. As I have said, many in John’s shoes would have surrendered and succumbed twenty-five years ago. Possessing no reason to live, no sense of purpose, and no strength to fight, many men die shortly after their retirement.

Many more men die shortly after their wives pass away. Several years ago when Audrey died, it would not have surprised anyone if John followed her soon after.

But John kept going, kept persevering, kept fighting. Many studies have been made to identify symptoms of depression or the giving up on life. People who give up and surrender to the enemies of life become detached and disengaged from the world around them. They no longer care what their neighbors are up to. They become disinterested in their church, the local and national headlines, and interestingly, they no longer care about sports.

John possessed none of these symptoms. John always looked forward to visits from his church family. He absolutely loved taking a stroll in his wheelchair around the neighborhood and even downtown so he could see the people he loved. He cared about what was going on in the world, and he was in no way, shape or form disengaged from sports. He was an avid fan and loved rooting for the Wolfpack of NC State and the Atlanta Braves.

It was obvious to everyone that John, though weak and weary, never gave up. For as Isaiah 40:29 reads, John was a living testimony that “God gives strength to the weary, and to him who lacks might God increases power.” And in the 73rd Psalm we read: “My flesh and my heart may fail, but God is the strength of my heart and my portion forever.” John Barefoot was a living example to all of this great truth.

Our story continues in Exodus: “But Moses’ hands grew weary; so Aaron and Hur took a stone and put it under him, and he sat on it. And Aaron and Hur held up the hands of Moses, Aaron on one side and Hur on the other, and the hands of Moses were steady until the sun set.”

God has always used others to do God’s work in this world. God calls each of us to minister to one another. God uses us to supply God’s strength to those who are weak, to keep them steady, to help them fight the good fight, to finish the race. Such was the case in this victory of Amalek. Moses did not possess the strength to keep his hands raised through the duration of the battle, so God sent him Aaron and Hur who brought him a rock to sit upon and then held up each of his hands.

God also sent John others to give him support when he was the most weary. Church members visited. He children cared for him daily. And caregivers from Silvercare came to John’s aid. You could say that they brought him a rock and steadied his hands until the sun set. Pam Johnson, Catherine Walker and Savilla Jones were to John like Aaron and Hur were to Moses.

“And the hands of Moses were steady until the sun set. And Joshua defeated Amalek and his army.”

God always supplies us with strength for a purpose. God supplied Moses with strength through Aaron and Hur for the purpose of defeating the enemy. Thus, God did not supply John with strength, send him a rock through Pam, Catherine, Savilla and others who visited him and prayed for him just so John could watch a few more ballgames on TV. As Ephesians chapter 2 reads: “God will enable us to continue on in righteousness and to do the good works which the Lord has appointed for us.”

As God supplied Moses with the strength to keep his staff raised through the battle to defeat the enemy and to reveal the source that strength, I believe God supplied John with strength. As it was evident to all who encountered John—who saw his smile, heard his laughter, experienced his joy—that God was the source or his strength.

barefoot

A month ago, a group of parents and children from our church came to John’s house to sing Christmas carols. One of the mothers that came with her children was someone who, just a couple of years ago, was not a part of any church. She said that she even avoided church and had many doubts about faith and the power of God.

But there, standing around John’s bed with others from the church singing Christmas carols, through John, something miraculous happened. God spoke. She said as she watched John donning a Santa hat and wearing a smile that was so amazing that it had to be divine, as she watched him sing along with the children the best that he could, with a joy, this amazing joy, a joy that had to come from heaven, she said that Christmas became real to her. Faith became real. God became real.

There is no telling how many people have been changed by God, how many battles have been won by God, how many of life’s enemies were defeated by God, through John Barefoot’s amazing strength in the midst of adversity, through John’s amazing joy in the midst of suffering, through God’s amazing grace in the midst of John’s life.

And the good news for us today is, that this same God, the God of Abraham and Isaac, the God of Moses and Joshua, the God revealed in the Risen Christ and in the life of John Barefoot, will give us strength in our grief, joy in our suffering and grace in our lives. God will send others: friends and family and church members to hold our hands, to keep them steady, until the sun sets, until the battle is won.

But the really good news is that the final battle, the battle with life’s final enemy has already been won. As Paul wrote to the Corinthians: “Death has been swallowed up in victory. O death, where is your victory? Where is your sting?”

The good news for all of us today is that as God has stood by John and has given him strength to battle the enemies of life, through our resurrected Lord, God has defeated death, and John is now and forever with his Lord.

May this good news help us now to live our lives as John lived his: Persevering with the strength of God, receiving help from friends and family who provide us a rock, living with the purpose of sharing the joy and the hope of the Lord with all people, until the sun sets here and rises forever in eternity. Amen.

Repeat the Sounding Joy

On By Rev. Dr. Jarrett BanksIn Guest BloggersLeave a comment

communionThe following was written by Alison Lord Stuart on January 12, 2015 for The Daily Reflector.

A good question to ask ourselves in the cold of January is just what will we take from Christmas into the New Year.  Maybe argyle socks, penny loafers, a cherished memory or an unspeakable loss.  Whatever it is that we fold in for the long journey, we will be different because of it.

Throughout December, I was mesmerized by certain words found in Joy To The World; “repeat the sounding joy.”  I have thought of the beauty wrapped into “sounding joy” and often wondered what it could be.  Then I heard it one morning at First Christian Church in Farmville and almost like an epiphany, I knew.  After the serving of Holy Communion, it was the sound of Communion cups being placed in pew holders. Similar, indeed, to the sound of pew benches being turned back after the serving of the same Sacrament. Both sounds indicating that our singular and corporate seeking of God’s forgiveness is fully present and fully heard.

For Believers, it is a majestic, full bodied, orchestration of sound.  The perfect balance; the fulcrum of falling short and being the beneficiary of unconditional love.  In a long week, month or year, it is a sound to be coveted. It is the sound of hope.

God’s will is that the discordance of our sin doesn’t have to be the end of our song or life story.  Forgiveness, strength and renewal are at God’s Table, there for the asking, freely given and freely received.

The sounding joy given to us by a Risen Savior is grace. It is in the wiping clean of our tarnished slates, in forgiving ourselves and others, and experiencing the dignity of a new beginning.  It is best heard when we rest our weary souls in the hollow of God’s hand, listen and repeat, repeat the sounding joy.

The Realness of Christmas

On By Rev. Dr. Jarrett BanksIn Advent and Christmas, Farmville EnterpriseLeave a comment

wounded children

Instead of decorating my tree this year with Christmas music playing in the background, I decorated it while watching the nightly news. As I hung ornaments, I listened to the tragic story of a high school student killed in an automobile accident. As I turned on the lights on the tree, I glanced up to see pictures of mothers with their children escaping from Syria into refugee camps in Lebanon. I saw images of many children: some starving, others injured, some dying, others sick, all very afraid. I thought to myself, “I need to turn this depressing mess off and put on something Christmasy.”

Then it occurred to me. This is probably as close to Christmasy as it gets, for this is Christmas undecorated. This is real Christmas, and it is a shame that we try to cover it up with colorful paper and tie a bow around it. We string it with lights and decorate it. We romanticize and sentimentalize the whole Christmas scene with gleeful music and cheerful food.

Perhaps it is because in our shallow minds, the scene is majestic. It is glorious: angels flying in the night sky singing a heavenly chorus; a brilliant star rising in the east; a baby worshipped by shepherds and kings and even animals. In our nativity scene, there is no crying, no hunger, no disease, no anxiety, no fear, no mourning. Our nativity is a serene, sweet, sanitized scene.

However, this was not the reality of the first Noel. Christmas reality was not beautiful and was far from perfect. And no matter how hard we try, no matter how much energy we expend or how much money we spend; we cannot conceal the real harshness of it, the harsh realness of it. Christmas reality, says the prophet Isaiah is “like, a root out of dry ground.” Jesus was born among animals in a cattle stall and placed in a feeding troth with the stench of wet straw and animal waste in the air.

Yes, Kings, Magi or Wise Men came to worship the baby, but we like to forget that King Herod was using those eastern visitors to locate the baby so he could run a sword through him. And we forget the holocaust in Ramah, the innocent babies slaughtered, the desperate cries of anguish and despair from parents because there children were “no more.” We forget the escape to Egypt like homeless refugees. This is Christmas reality.

This is the reality of it, and this is the good news of it! The good news of Christmas is that there is nothing glamorous, glitzy sentimental, or romantic about it. The good news of Christmas is that God came into our depressing mess. God came into the real world, encountered real evil in the most real of ways, experienced real suffering and pain and died a very real death.

Someone who was suffering with terminal cancer once told me: “Although I cannot explain it, somehow, the sicker I am, the more pain I experience, the more hopeful I become. In the moments of my most immense suffering, God is the most real to me.”

Through the coming of God in Christ into a very real and broken world, we know that God knows something about real human suffering and real human misery. God knows what it feels like to feel forsaken by God. God is therefore able to relate to us in the most intimate of ways in those moments when life is the most real and the most broken.

Thank God something as depressing as the nightly news can actually be Christmasy.

Christmas Begins in the Wilderness

On By Rev. Dr. Jarrett BanksIn Advent and Christmas, Sermons Year BLeave a comment

TheGriswoldFamilyChristmasTreeMark 1:6-8 NRSV

When does Christmas begin for you? Was it on Black Friday at the mall, or while watching A Charlie Brown Christmas or National Lampoon’s Christmas Vacation? Was it last Sunday morning as the first candle of Advent was lit in this place? When does it start? When do you begin to realize the good news that is Christmas? Where are you when it happens? On the Town Common during the annual Christmas tree lighting? Walking down Main Street during the Taste of Farmville? Going caroling with the children from church? Maybe it is not until Christmas Eve, as you light your candle and sing, Silent Night. Perhaps it is when you are alone at home, listening to Christmas music and decorating your own tree.

For Mark, the good news of Christmas begins in what most of us would call a strange and unexpected place. Unlike us, the good news of Christmas does not start with some warm sentimental scene. And unlike Matthew and Luke, for Mark, the good news of Christmas does not begin with heavenly visitations, choirs of angels, the worship of shepherds, a star rising in the East, or Magi bearing gifts. For Mark, Christmas does not even begin with a little baby wrapped in swaddling clothes lying in a manger.

For Mark, the good news of Jesus Christ, the Son of God, the good news of Emmanuel, God with us, the good news of Christmas, begins somewhere out in the wilderness. And he is not talking about some snow-covered winter wonderland where the Griswold’s find their family Christmas tree.

For Jewish people aware of their history, Christmas begins in that place that was experienced somewhere between slavery in Egypt and the Promised Land. Somewhere out in that place of testing, trial and temptation, somewhere out in that place of doubt, dread and despair, that place where you do not know if you want to live or die, that place with the Red Sea swelling before you and Pharaoh’s army advancing behind you. That place where Elijah fled to save his life from Jezebel’s army and then prayed for God to take his life away. That place where even Christmas himself would be haunted by wild beasts and tempted by Satan. For Mark, Christmas begins in the most strange and unexpected place, a raw, dangerous place called the wilderness.

The beginning of the good news that is Christmas occurs in that place where God seems to be against you, or appears to be so far away that you doubt God’s very existence—suffering in an intensive care unit at the hospital, laying in utter misery in a nursing home, holding the hand of a parent with Alzheimer’s, picking out a casket for a spouse in a funeral home, at home anxiously trying to pay your monthly bills, in the middle of a fight with a loved one, in Pearl Harbor 73 years ago this hour, in any place where people are overtaken by tension and terror, overwhelmed by despair and disappointment, or overcome by sin and shame.

Last weekend, I was at home trying to get my own Christmas started as I do every weekend after Thanksgiving. However, this year it began a little differently, you might say it began strangely and unexpectedly.

Instead of decorating my tree this year with Christmas music playing in the background, I decorated it while watching the local news. As I hung ornaments, I listened to the tragic story of a high school student killed in an automobile accident outside of Pinetops. As I turned on the lights of the tree, I glanced up to see pictures of mothers with their children escaping from war-torn Syria into refugee camps in Lebanon. I saw images of many children: some starving, others injured, some dying, others sick, all very afraid. I saw gruesome images of parents holding the lifeless body of their child. And I thought to myself, “I need to turn this depressing mess off and put on something a little more Christmasy.”

Then it occurred to me. This may be as close to Christmasy as it gets, for this is Christmas in the wilderness. The Good News according to Mark concurs that this is Christmas, raw Christmas. This is where Christmas truly begins. This is Christmas untamed and undecorated. For Christmas began when God came into a depressing mess.

And no matter how hard we try, no matter how much energy we expend or how much money we spend; we cannot escape the raw truth of it. Christmas begins, says Mark, with a “voice crying out in the wilderness.” And there is no music, no matter how Christmasy, that we can play loud enough to drown out this voice. There are no decorations glitzy enough and no lights bright enough to temper this voice.

This voice can be heard throughout every refugee camp in Lebanon and by every parent mourning the loss of their child. It can be heard in every intensive care unit, in every nursing home and funeral home. This voice can be heard in every wilderness, in every depressing mess on earth.

Through the good news of Christmas, God is crying out: I am for you; not against you. I am with you; not away from you. And I am more real, more alive, and more at work in this world than you can sometimes believe. As the prophet Isaiah said: “I am about to do a new thing; now it springs forth, do you not perceive it? I will make a way in the wilderness and rivers in the desert” (Isa 43:19).

The good news is: Christmas does not begin with us. It does not begin when we get the house all decorated or get all of our shopping done. We do not have to host a Christmas party or even go to one. We don’t even have to go to church, light a candle or sing a carol. Christmas begins with God and with a voice crying out in the wilderness, in those places where we may least expect it, but need it the most.

Some of us know that Luke tells his beloved Christmas story in chapter 2 of his gospel. However, I believe he perhaps tells it more poignantly in chapter 10.

A man was traveling down a wilderness road that was so dangerous that it was sometimes called “the way of blood” or “the bloody pass.” And there out in the wilderness, the man fell into the hands of robbers, who stripped him, beat him, leaving him half dead on the side of the road. As the man lay on the roadside, somewhere between Jerusalem and Jericho, somewhere between life and death, wanting to live, but also maybe wanting to die, he is ignored by two religious leaders who are also traveling down the same road.

God only knows why these men who you would expect to stop and help ignored the man. Perhaps they thought the robbers were still nearby, or maybe they thought the man lying on ground was only pretending, playing some sort of trick, so that when they came near him, he would beat and rob them. For whatever reason, they believed it was much too risky for them to stop.

Then came this one, Luke calls him a Samaritan, which means this was someone who was despised and rejected by the religious establishment, someone who was often misunderstood and rarely respected, someone who knew something about pain and brokenness, betrayal and abandonment, God-forsakenness; someone who had spent many days and nights in the wilderness himself, tempted and tried.

This one who was the least expected to stop and help, saw the man. He saw the man’s wounds, saw the man’s fear, saw the man’s despair and was moved with mercy and compassion. And there in the wilderness he risked his own life, as he sacrificially came to him, selflessly bent himself down to the ground, and joined the man.

The man did not have to do anything to make this one come to him. Out of pure love, unconditional and unreserved, this one just came. He then touched the man where the man most needed touching, pouring oil and wine on the man’s wounds and bandaging them. He then picked the man up and safely carried him out of the wilderness. He stayed with him, at his side through the darkness of the night. When morning came, he paid for the man’s debts, and made the promise: “I will come back. I will return.”

Of course, we call this “The Story of the Good Samaritan.” However, I believe it should be called, “The Story of Christmas.” A story that begins with a voice of mercy and compassion crying out in the wilderness, in those strange, dangerous places where we least expect it, but most need it.

Hospice caregivers will often speak of a dying person “rallying” for a brief time right before death. A person who has been non-responsive will begin to talk. One who has been confused or disoriented will become suddenly coherent. And those who have not had any food for sometimes days may request something to eat or drink. As a pastor, I have seen this “rally” more times than I can possibly count. I am not sure exactly why it happens; I just know that it happens, and it happens often.

My faith tells me that it is Christmas. It is God seeing one lying in the wilderness in their weakest, most broken state, seeing one in their most desperate, most vulnerable need, and it is God being moved with mercy and compassion for that one. It is a voice crying out from the heavens into the wilderness: “I am for you, not against you, I am with you, not away from you. I am Emmanuel. I will risk my own life for you. I will give my all to take care of your wounds and to pick you up, to forgive all of your debts. And when you are ready, I will come back, and I will take you unto myself, so that where I am, you will also be.”

The good news for us this day is that Christmas comes to us all when we confess that we are all half dead, lying on some wilderness road east of Eden, beaten up so badly by this sinful world that no one can tell whether we are Jew or Gentile, male or female, black or white, slave or free.[i] Whenever we confess our brokenness, our sinfulness, and our need for a Savior, a voice from heaven cries out in our wilderness and Christmas comes. Christmas always comes.

When does Christmas begin for you? When does it start? Where are you when you begin to realize the good news that is Christmas? The good news, according to Mark, is that Christmas begins when and where you may least expect it, but need it the most.

[i] This sentence is adapted from words spoken by Frank Tupper in one of my theology classes at Southern Seminary, Louisville, Kentucky, 1989-1992.

From Sorrow to Joy

On By Rev. Dr. Jarrett BanksIn Memorials4 Comments

gone-fishing-600x399Funeral Service for Hubert Chester Outland, Jr.

Aug 23, 1944 – Nov 26, 2014 

Esther 9:20-23 NRSV

John 16:20-24 NRSV

Chester never did care too much for funerals. If he had it his way, we probably would not here this day. Yet, I am sure he knew that, unless he outlived all of us, there would be a service.

“Well, if you’ve got to have a service,” I can almost hear Chester say, with a slight grimace, “at least make it a celebration. Play and sing music that is uplifting. Say things that are hopeful. Be joyful.”

Chester certainly did not want this day to be a day of sadness, of mourning, but a day of gladness, of rejoicing. Instead of a sorrowful, solemn sermon, he would want me to preach a happy, hopeful one, to even tell a joke or two, assuring his friends and family that everything is going to be alright.

“Jarrett,” I can hear him say, “Just tell people: don’t worry. Sing a happy song. If anybody ask where I’m at, just tell them I’ve gone fishing. Just tell them I’ve gone fishing with Daddy and Mama on that beautiful shore in the sweet bye and bye. So, Jarrett, if you have to have a funeral, and as much as I despise a funeral I know you have to, please do me a favor and make it a celebration. And please, do everyone a favor, and try to keep it short.”

“Well, Chester, my good friend, that is much easier said than done.

Because, Chester, you just left us so suddenly. None of us were prepared for it. We are having a hard time accepting it. One minute you’re at the Country Club telling jokes about Obama and the next minute you’re gone. Even now, three days later, it seems more like some strange nightmare from which we cannot wake than it does the reality that we must accept.

And the timing of it, during the start of the holidays, seems to make it even more tragic. As I was sitting with Ben at the hospital, he painfully reminded me that this Thanksgiving was Mernie’s and your 45th wedding anniversary. So Chester, please forgive us if we are somewhat slow and even reluctant to celebrate this day.”

And of course, this day is especially sad because we loved Chester so. And he loved us.

I know I am speaking for more than just me when I say that Chester loved me like I was family. I felt I could go to Chester for any kind of advice, from fishing, golf to finances. It was eight years ago that Chester taught me how to fry my first turkey for Thanksgiving. After I rubbed the bird down and injected it per Chester’s precise instructions, Chester made me come to his house to fry it, so he could supervise and prevent me from blowing myself up.

This is a difficult day, for how many of us here will not miss the way Chester loved us with his wonderful, yet peculiar sense of humor.

One day, he and Ben were fishing for trout off the train trestle in Beaufort. While they were fishing, one of his shoes got caught on the trestle, slipped off and fell in the inlet and was immediately swept away by the current. After a great day of fishing, a man noticed Ben and Chester walking off the trestle, Chester limping a bit, wearing just one shoe. The man asked, “Did you lose your shoe?” Chester said: “No, I found one.”

Yes, today is a sad day as we will miss his quick wit, his funny stories and his dry sarcasm. We will miss all the ways he made us smile, by playing a prank or by cooking us a meal.

This day is especially difficult for his family as Chester loved planning and cooking a meal, especially for a family gathering such as Thanksgiving. All who knew Chester knew that his family meant everything to him: his sister Niki and Eddie; his niece Lou, Tim and great nephew Nick; his daughter Emily, her fiancé Joey, his son Ben and Beth; his adopted grandchildren whom he loved as if they were his own blood, Hunter and Landon, his grandchildren Haley, and Jamison; and his wife of 45 years Mernie.

More than anything, Chester wanted all of you to be happy and fulfilled. For when you hurt, he hurt. When you were not satisfied, he was not satisfied. Although he had spent much putting Ben through school to go into law enforcement, he did not get upset when Ben changed his mind. As tight as Chester was, he never showed any disappointment. On the contrary, Chester encouraged Ben to do what was going to make him happy.

While her friends were critical of Emily’s selfless career choice to be a teacher in North Carolina, saying that she was never going to make any money, Chester encouraged Emily to follow her heart and do what was going to give her the greatest fulfillment. As much as he believed in the importance of making enough money to save some for a rainy day, he never complained that Emily did not have a more lucrative career.

And Mernie, for 45 years, Chester loved you, and although there were times you spent more money than he liked for you to, he would do anything he could do to provide for you, to care for you, to make you comfortable, to make you happy. It grieved him to watch you suffer as you have this past year.

And along with his family, this whole community is saddened this day, as Chester sacrificially protected us and our country when he was younger serving in the National Guard. Chester made this a better place to live as he gave himself in his retirement to the country club, and he as gave himself throughout his life to the service of this church as a faithful usher. He was a friend and encourager to so many, always doing all he could do to make us smile, bring us happiness.

So to transform this sad day into day of gladness, this day of sorrow into a day of rejoicing and celebration, is much easier said than done.

But this is what our faith in God is all about. Throughout history, God has always been in the business of transforming: transforming defeat into victory, despair into hope, and sorrow into joy. The cross of our Lord is just one example of this great truth.

In the wonderful little book of Esther, we are told about the Persian Empire’s plot to destroy the Jewish people. Under Queen Esther’s leadership, the Persians are defeated and Israel was saved. Mordecai, who had adopted Esther, and raised her as if she was his own blood, decreed that the days had been transformed “from sorrow into gladness and from mourning into a holiday; that they should make them days of feasting and gladness…”

Days of sorrow transformed into gladness. Days of mourning transformed into a holiday. Days of grief transformed into days of feasting and gladness. This is exactly what Chester Outland Jr. would want this day and in these days to come.

But, again, that seems easier said than done. It was just all so sudden. We have all lost so much. And right at Thanksgiving.

Again, I can almost hear Chester’s voice: “Well, that’s the whole reason you should be celebrating.”

“Yes, it was sudden,” I can hear Chester say, “But who on earth has ever said: ‘When it is my time to go, I hope it is slow and drawn out.’ Especially after watching my daddy suffer the way he did after his stroke. I have often said, ‘When it is my time, I hope it is sudden and fast.’ And I hope to be doing something that I love. I hope to be out there giving myself to something like the country club. I hope to be doing physically well enough to play golf if it’s not raining. Right before I go, I hope to feel good enough to tell one last joke about Obama.

And yes, you have lost much, for God had certainly blessed by life with much. God has blessed me in my life with good health, the ability to do what I loved, the opportunity to play golf and go fishing. God blessed me with great friends and a wonderful family. Yes, like all families, we have had some tough times, but I was able to see us through them. Ben and Emily have jobs that they love. Emily is happy again as Joey has come into her life. I have been able to be there for my grandkids, all of them. I have been able to show them that I love each one of them the same. And how many people can say that they have been happily married for 45 years to the same person?

And the timing? Although I missed cooking for my family, if I had to go sometime, (and we are going some time) I can think of no better time for me to go than this week of Thanksgiving. For I left this world grateful, grateful for the life that God had given me, grateful for my family, grateful for the life that I was given, grateful that in the end I did not suffer.

So, please be grateful with me, celebrate with me, rejoice with me, give thanks with me and trust God to do what God has done throughout history and take these days of sorrow and transform them into days gladness, take these days of mourning and make them into a holiday, take these days of grief and make them days of feasting and gladness. Prepare feasts for your loved ones, the way that I taught you. Love each other, the way I loved you. The way our Lord taught us to love. Make one another laugh. Make someone happy. And when you do, think of me, and be thankful.”

When Jesus was preparing his friends and family for his death, he spoke these beautiful words which were recorded by John:

Very truly, I tell you, you will weep and mourn…you will have pain, but your pain will turn into joy. When a woman is in labor, she has pain…But when her child is born, she no longer remembers the anguish because of the joy of having brought a human being into the world. So you have pain now; but I will see you again, and your hearts will rejoice, and no one will take your joy from you.

Just as Chester wanted, I believe our days of sadness will be transformed into days of gladness when, instead of being bitter for what we lost, we become grateful for what we had. These days of mourning will once more become holidays. However, that is not saying that we will not continue to have pain. Even when our hearts are bursting with gratitude, even we are the most thankful for what we had in a friend, a brother, a uncle, a father, a grandfather, and a husband, we will continue to have some pain. However, Jesus promises that all of our pain will one day be transformed into joy.

As a mother forgets her pain during labor when she holds her baby, Jesus says that when we see Chester again, when we see our Lord, all of the pain that we have this day and in the days to come will be transformed into joy.

So, for those of us with faith in Christ, this is a day of gladness and rejoicing. This is a day of celebration. This is a day of hope. And if we listen, we can almost hear Chester say:

“I am with Mama, and I am with Daddy. I am with my Lord. Tell people: don’t worry. Everything is going to be alright. Sing a happy song. If people ask where I’m at, just tell them: I’ve gone fishing.”

Voices from the Grave

On By Rev. Dr. Jarrett BanksIn Sermons Non-Lectionary1 Comment

AllSaintsSundayCandleHebrews 12

Years after her husband died, Betty told me that she still goes to the cemetery, almost daily, to visit his grave. “And Jarrett, I need to ask you something,” she said. “Oftentimes when I go, I stand there and talk to him. Sometimes I even bring a chair to sit in so I can talk to him for hours. I talk about my day, the good parts and the bad parts, and, of course, I talk to him about how much I miss him. Jarrett, here’s my question: “Do you think I am crazy?”

I said, “I guess that all depends. Let me ask you this: Does he ever talk back?”

However, when one considers the response of Jesus in the gospels, perhaps hearing voices from the dead is not so crazy. The Sadducees, who did not believe in eternal life, were trying once again to entrap Jesus by questioning his teaching on resurrection. Jesus responds:

“The fact that the dead are raised Moses himself showed, in the story about the bush, where he speaks of the Lord as the God of Abraham, the God of Isaac, and the God of Jacob. 38Now he is God not of the dead, but of the living; for to him all of them are alive” (Luke 20).

So perhaps Betty would not have been that crazy after all, if she heard her husband’s voice from the grave.

Now, of course, I am not talking about hearing audible voices from the grave. I am talking about the hearing voices from the dead the way the writer of Hebrews describes it when he writes:

“Therefore, since we are surrounded by so great a cloud of witnesses, let us also lay aside every weight and the sin that clings so closely,* and let us run with perseverance the race that is set before us, looking to Jesus the pioneer and perfecter of our faith…”

He is talking about being inspired by, encouraged by those who have lived before us. In the previous chapter, we read a list of those he is talking about: Abraham, Isaac, Jacob and Esau; Moses and each Israelite who escaped slavery in Egypt; Barak, Samson, Jephthah, David, Samuel, all of the prophets and every person had has ever been persecuted or martyred for their faith.

The writer to the Hebrews is saying, when life is hard, when the way is difficult, remember these, remember their voices, remember their actions, and especially remember how they point you to the way of Jesus, and be encouraged, be strengthened, and gain perseverance to continue not only life, but a life of courageous faith and selfless service.

I absolutely love worshipping in this place. Because every person that first worshipped in this sacred place that was built in 1909 ran their race and kept the faith long before us. Every time I gather here, I can hear their voices: voices of those who sang the great hymns of faith in these pews through World War One and the Great Depression. I stand behind and preach from a pulpit and hear the voices of preachers who preached the gospel amid World War Two, the Korean Conflict, Vietnam and the Cold War. I hear voices of those who preached for the rights of African Americans during the Civil Rights movement.

I hear the voices of those who have served the poor in this community and around the world for decades, those who have donated generously, and served sacrificially.

Every time I gather here, I hear the particular voices of those who served faithfully with me through Farmville Benevolent Ministries while I was the pastor of First Baptist Church. I hear the compassion in the voices of AC and Vivian Turnage for the poor of this community. I hear the love in the voice of Gay Johnson who would always have jars of Molasses in the trunk of her car to distribute to those in need.

Listen, can you hear them? Can you hear the voices of the saints echoing through this place this morning? When I listen carefully, I can hear the voice of Marie Allen. I hear great perseverance in the voice of an extraordinary mother who selflessly gave her all in loving her family. I hear the voice of an extraordinary mother who got up each morning, made everyone breakfast, packed lunches, and then went to work herself every day at her full-time job at the drug store or the dry cleaners in town. Then, somehow, some miraculous way, in a world without fast food and microwaves, still managed to prepare a hot supper and have on the family dinner table each night. And whenever little Pete or Donna needed new clothes to wear, with needle and thread and some material, Marie could always create whatever they wanted with her own hands. I hear the voice of a faithful mother who made a point to raise Pete and Donna in this church giving them a foundation for a faithful life that is being lived out today.

Listen, do you hear them? I hear sincere gratitude in the voice of William Meeks. I hear a voice that thanked God, even amid struggle and difficulty, for his opportunity to selflessly and sacrificially serve his country through military service during the Korean War. Although he freely admitted that those years changed him, affected him, not always for the good; in some ways it broke him; he was still very grateful for the opportunity to serve these United States.

William was also very grateful for his opportunity to serve through the First Christian Church of Farmville, especially as an electrician. And the First Christian Church is very grateful that we were able to give him that opportunity! When you worship in a church building that was built in 1909, you appreciate someone with the skills and the generosity of William Meeks. There is no telling how many hours William freely gave to the church doing all kinds of needed repairs. William loved his church. Like his love for his country, there was perhaps something deep within William that yearned to be a part of something that was larger than himself.

William always talked about how good his church was to him, especially when he needed the church the most. I don’t think I ever visited him when he did not express his gratitude to God for Jimmy Lethworth and for the many times that Jimmy picked him up and carried him to the VA Hospital in Durham for his cancer treatments.

Listen, do you hear them? I hear gracious hospitality in the voice of Kenneth Ross. One could say that Kenneth Malcolm Ross lived his entire life preparing a place at the table, preparing a home for others, for Marilyn, Amelia and Ken, and even for all Americans, each one of us, through his service to this country.

I think this explains why life was so difficult for him these last eight years. When Marilyn died in 2006, something inside of Kenneth also died. For Marilyn was such a large part of his purpose for living. And having been diagnosed with lung cancer himself, at the same time Marilyn was diagnosed, undergoing chemotherapy alongside of Marilyn, Kenneth did not only survive with a great loss of sense of purpose, Kenneth survived with the guilt associated with surviving. He also survived with severe physical limitations, COPD and other side effects from his battle with cancer that prevented him from living and breathing, preparing and providing for others as he had his entire life.

However, although he struggled much these last few years, although he was limited physically, it was evident through each of my visits with him that he never lost faith. Kenneth continued to love and care for the First Christian Church where he raised his family, served as a deacon and practiced the greatest commandment of loving God and neighbor as self.  Each visit I had with him, he would always inquire about the state of the church and of the needs of the church.

Listen, do you hear them? I hear great hope in the voice of Marie White. I will never forget the confident faith in her voice that I heard from her the week she passed away. Each time I visited her in the hospital, although she was very sick and felt terrible, it was evident that she was never separated by the love of God. She was sick, but she was not despairing. She was neither eating nor drinking; neither was she giving up hope. Although she was in the valley of the shadow of death, she feared no evil. Although her body was tired and broken and in pain, she was at peace. Although she was near the end of her life, her cup runneth over. It was so evident, that although she was separated from her friends, most of her family, her youth, her health, she was not separated by the love of God through Christ Jesus her Lord. She was a living testimony to the truth that spiritual wholeness is more important that physical well-being, even more important than life on this earth.

Listen, do you hear them? I can. Thanks be to God that we are surrounded by a great cloud of witnesses. So let us set aside every weight and the sin that clings so closely and let us run with perseverance the race that is set before us, [always] looking to Jesus the pioneer and perfector of our faith. Thanks be to God that we clearly hear the voices of the saints that have lived before us.

And no, we are not crazy. We just worship the God of the living; not of the dead, for to God, all of them are alive.

Finish the Fight

On By Rev. Dr. Jarrett BanksIn Short ArticlesLeave a comment

finish the fight

I have preached more than my share of funeral or memorial services for people who have died with cancer. Near the end of the many eulogies, including the eulogies for both my maternal grandparents, I have closed by confidently sharing the following words that I have heard other preachers share at funerals. I keep the words saved on my hard drive, so I can easily copy and paste it.

Cancer is so limited.

It 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. Amen.

You, every person who has supported Relay for Life in this community, some for well over a decade now, you are how I am able to speak those words, even in the face of death, with such confidence.

Former North Carolina State Women’s Basketball Coach, Kay Yow, who passed away in 2009 after a courageous battle with breast cancer once said, “I felt like I had zero control over getting cancer, but I have 100% control of how I will respond to getting cancer.” She then said something that was absolutely inspiring: “When life kicks you, let it kick you forward!”

Just look around you tonight. Everywhere you look you will see people who have been kicked by cancer. You will see people who have lost some of the people in life they have loved the most. You will see people who have lost parents and grandparents, husbands and wives. You will see people who have heard their brothers and sisters who were experiencing unimaginable suffering with cancer say, “I do not wish this on my worst enemy.” You will see people who have lost friends and family members who died way too young. You will see people who have lost their children. And you do not have to look hard to find people who have themselves been personally kicked by cancer. There are people here who are survivors and there are people here who are still fighters. There are people all around us tonight who have been kicked by cancer and kicked hard.

Yet, you will nonetheless see them. They are here tonight. Cancer did not cripple them. Cancer did not shatter their hope or corrode their faith. Cancer did not destroy their confidence, silence their courage or quench their spirits. They are here tonight to continue to do whatever they can do help find a cure for this disease. They have been kicked by cancer, they have been kicked hard, but they have been kicked forward!

Now, as exciting as this night is, as hopeful as this night is, when battling something as enormous as Cancer, I realize that we can easily become discouraged. As I said, some of us have been supporting this Relay in Farmville for over a decade, and today our loved ones are still being diagnosed. Our parents and our children are still dying.

We need to be honest and admit that there are very few things in life more discouraging than trying to put an end to a disease like Cancer. The needs of cancer researchers are so great and our resources are so limited. Sometimes, we can be easily tempted to give up, quit, lay down, throw in the towel.

Jesus knew something of this temptation. Jesus commanded his disciples to do great things, to give sight to the blind, to heal the sick, to bind up the broken hearted, and even to raise the dead. And Jesus knew that whenever one is commanded to do big things, the prospects exist for big discouragement.

So, one day, Jesus told a story of a widow who had some type of opposition in her life, something was discouraging her, tempting her to give in and give up. She had been kicked and kicked hard. She kept going to this judge asking for help. She went time and time again, for maybe a decade or more, and help never came. But she kept persisting, she kept fighting, she kept working to get help, until one day, the judge finally helped the poor widow.

Jesus was saying that God wants us to always be persistent! No matter how hard we are kicked, God wants us to keep at it, never let up, never surrender, never throw in the towel. And no, we may not be able to find a cure for cancer this year, or next year, or even in this decade but I believe God wants to keep trying, to keep forging ahead, keep the faith until that day comes when cancer is defeated forever. We need to keep doing what we can, when we can, however we can.

Despite our good efforts, the little bit of money we raise tonight is not going to fund all of the research that is still needed. But we’re going to keep at it.

Despite our tireless work, we may not find a cure before we lose another loved one, but we’re going to keep trying.

Despite the many hours of our lives we sacrifice each year for Relay for Life, we may succumb ourselves to cancer before a cure is found, but before we do, we are going to keep persisting and never lose heart.

And for those of us who are suffering today with cancer, despite still being kicked by cancer, we are going to let it kick us forward.

We are going to keep buying a ribbon, keep selling baked goods, keep playing Bunco and keep making donations. We are going to keep lighting a luminary and keep walking this track.

And then we are going to keep praying. Keep asking God to take our meager, small efforts and use them. We ask God to do for us that which we cannot fully do for ourselves: Help us finish this fight and defeat this disease forever!

Until that day comes when preachers everywhere can take that poem that has been read at countless funerals and delete it permanently from their hard drives.

 

When Death Surprises Us

On By Rev. Dr. Jarrett BanksIn MemorialsLeave a comment

Surprise_Surprise

Memorial Service for Florence Styers, March 17, 2000

Death is always painful.  Losing someone you love is always tragic.  However, the pain and tragedy of loss seem to intensify when it takes us by surprise.  It leaves one in a state of shock, a state of disbelief.  Numb.  There are some times when our hearts break slowly over time, and then there are those harsh times when they break very abruptly.  This is what happened to my heart on Grimmersburg Street on Tuesday evening.

There is nothing good about death. It marks the end of life on this earth. It is our last great enemy. And it separates us from the ones we love. Death is always a tragedy.

We can try to comfort ourselves by saying things like “Our loved one is better off than we.” “She is in a far better place.”  “At least she did not suffer.”

 But at the same time, we cannot help to selfishly ask:

“If she was so healthy, why couldn’t we have her here ten, even twenty more years.”  “What was so bad about the place she was—here with us, in the presence of the ones she loved and with so many who loved her?”

No, the truth is: there is nothing good about any death.

And it seems even harsher when it surprises us. Because the truth is we do not like the surprises of our fallen world.

We do not like the world’s surprises because they do not fit into our plans.  They disrupt our lives. They cause confusion and chaos. And our fallen world is full of them. Tragedy and catastrophe, sickness and disease, wars, storms, floods, and earthquakes stalk our earth continuously ready to jump out and overtake us when we least expect it. And so it often is with death.

However, the good news is, as our fallen world is full of surprises, so is our God. Our God is a God of surprises.  However, God’s surprises are not tainted by sin and evil, but are shaped by love and by grace. In the garden, God surprised Adam and Eve as God took garments of skin, and with God’s own hands crafted together clothes to cover their shame. Although they deserved to die, God clothed them, enveloping them with grace and forgiveness and love.

If one has heard it only once, one cannot forget the story when God told Abraham and Sarah they were going to have a baby in their old age whose descendants would give birth to Israel. Do you remember Sarah’s response? She laughed out loud. Sarah blessed laugh of the surprised.

And in this Lenten season, as Christians, we know how through Jesus, God once again surprised humanity as he became one of us. God surprised us by offering us the very best he had to offer: God’s only Son Jesus Christ. And when this fallen world rejected him, by humiliating him, by stripping him, beating him and crucifying him to a cross, God surprised us yet again by bringing him back to life and offering him to the very ones who denied, betrayed and killed him.  And promising eternal life through resurrection to all who follow the risen Christ.

And the good news is God still surprises us today by transforming our darkness into light, our despair into hope, our sorrow into joy and our deaths into life.

As we were all surprised this past Tuesday, just think of the surprise that Florence Styers’ received!  There is an old hymn which reads:

Just think of what it must be like to step on shore and finding it heaven,

of taking hold of a hand and finding it God’s hand.

Of breathing a new air and finding it celestial air,

of feeling invigorated and finding it immortality,

of passing from storm and tempest into an unbroken calm,

of looking up and finding it home. 

What a great surprise!

And until that day comes when we will meet Florence again, as God will surprise all of us in a twinkling of an eye with the gift of resurrection, we can count on God surprising us in many ways. 

Memories of our loved ones are a gift of grace. I believe God will surprise all of us the rest of our lives with the wonderful memories of Florence Styers . When our days are difficult, and when our days are long, when we have those despairing moments of grief (and because we loved  Florence we will have those moments), I believe it is then when God will surprise us with those precious memories of Florence’s delicate smile, her warm touch, her soft humility, her tender compassion and her faithful service. I believe God will use those memories to surprisingly touch those places within us that most need touching and renew our spirits—giving us the strength to continue our lives until we meet Florence and God one day face to face.

We will never forget the way in which she lived her life.  Someone told her children recently that Florence lived until she died. We will never forget the contributions she made to this community, through her job, through serving Meals on Wheels, and through her church. 

On Monday when she came to the office to write some checks as our church treasurer, as she did faithfully each week, she told me how she would soon be eighty.  I was shocked.  Surprised.  I told her I would not have been surprised if she told me she going to be 67.  She said the secret to staying young was staying busy. And that she did. I cannot tell you how many times people have come into the office this past week asking me questions which my response has been, “I don’t know the answer to that question, that is something Florence always took care of.” 

And you know when I think about her age, I should not have been surprised on Monday when she told me she was going to be eighty. Even God would have needed at least that long to create someone as lovely and as faithful as the Florence Styers I knew and loved. 

Yes, when we are surprised by the harsh surprises of this fallen world, when our hearts break abruptly, we can count on God surprising us with these great memories of Florence, renewing our spirits. 

And I believe God will continue to surprise us through our loved ones, our friends and our family, and our church.  Those days when we most need it, I believe God will send us an unexpected word of encouragement, an unanticipated visit, and an unforeseen embrace. God will startle us as the people of God around us will make us laugh like Sarah and Abraham, the laugh of the surprised.

Yes, when we have those moments when we feel we just can’t go on without Mama, without Nana, without Florence, God will surprise us with her memories, God will surprise us with our loved ones, God will surprise us with God’s Holy Spirit and God’s eternal hope.  God’s hope that as God surprised Florence with eternal life, one day God will surprise all of us who call him Lord with eternal life.

Death is hard.  Losing a loved one is painful. There is nothing good about it. And the pain of loss seems intensified when it catches us by surprise. But thank God, God will catch us all by surprise, with his love and with his grace, now and forevermore.