 "Though the mountains be shaken and the hills be removed, yet my unfailing love for you will not be shaken nor my covenant of peace be removed," says the Lord, who has compassion on you. ~ Isaiah 54:10 One of the things that I am often reminded of, especially when serving at the altar, is that we talk alot about brokenness.
The bread when lifted, "This is my body, which is broken for you..." I share, as bread is broken, a body broken, and then I will lift a cup, "This is my blood which is poured out for you. A new covenant I make with each of. Take and drink..." "For as often as we take the bread and cup, we remember Christ's brokenness for us. His death. His resurrection, and that one day we ALL shall see him. Face to face. These are the gifts of God, for the people of God..." Brokenness. Jesus was broken on the cross. He lived his suffering and death not as an evil to avoid at all costs, but as a mission to embrace. We too are broken. We live with broken bodies, broken hearts, broken minds or broken spirits. How can we live our brokenness? Christ invites us to embrace our brokenness as he embraced the cross and live it as part of our mission. Christ asks us not to reject our brokenness as a punishment from God that reminds us of the times when poor choices or bad judgement has created distance between us and the Creator, but to accept it and put it under God's blessing to allow for grace and forgiveness. Two of the things our broken world needs most at this point. The brokenness that we witness and experience is truly the gateway for a new life and a much stronger and loving society. Praying that in our brokenness we learn to love one another as God has loved us. Stay in God's grip! G. Todd Williams (c) 2020
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 For I was hungry and you gave me something to eat, I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink, I was a stranger and you invited me in, I needed clothes and you clothed me, I was sick and you looked after me, I was in prison and you came to visit me.’ “Then the righteous will answer him, ‘Lord, when did we see you hungry and feed you, or thirsty and give you something to drink? When did we see you a stranger and invite you in, or needing clothes and clothe you? When did we see you sick or in prison and go to visit you?’ “The King will reply, ‘Truly I tell you, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you did for me.’ ~ Matthew 25:35-40 Sometimes I realize I see the world very differently than others. It's okay that I do, and actually, if I were more authentic with how I see the world, I wouldn't spend so much time apologizing when someone says to me, "That makes me feel uncomfortable."
Six years of working on the street with the homeless, spending time under bridges and walking through alleys, changed me. There is no way that it couldn't. In many ways it served as a classroom, and Jesus was teaching. I came to realize that if Jesus were walking the streets today, you wouldn't find him in the hallways where legislators gather. No, you would find him with the marginalized and poor. This morning I was thinking about the days following the "resettling" of several hundred homeless persons living on the "Pierce Elevated," a raised highway through downtown Houston. In the middle of the night, police raided the area, arresting and loading people into buses where they were moved to areas around the city. Many of the places were abandoned hotels that were condemned. The city managed to open them back up for this "resettlement," so that the property could be used as parking lots for the city's new "Metro" headquarters that was being built downtown. The following is what happened to one man, who was mentally ill, who I had befriended that lived under the highway. Darkness had fallen over Houston. Shadows had grown and died. Under a gravel and trash-filled rain grate, light managed to tunnel it's way below through the overpass. Tired eyes, looked upward, and the man began to pray. Not for himself. Instead it was words that he had learned as a child through multiple prayers, "My God is good. My God is great. Thy kingdom come I will be done. Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me. Thank you for this day and my bread I was given. If I die before I wake, heaven is where I will be. Amen." Just for a moment there was peace. Just for a moment there was silence, until once again a car rolled above, causing metal trim to rapidly "click... click" where seams met. I sat and watched as the man gathered his treasures close, pulling the blanket a youth group had earlier given as a gift over himself, comb in hand, silently made its way into a gathering of hair, until it no longer moved, and was then left for safe keeping. "They won't bother it there." I looked around, not seeing anyone, I just smiled. "Just stay until I close my eyes," he said. "They won't bother me once I sleep." Obviously challenged by consciousness, and voices, that managed to interrupt, for most, would seem to be an easy day. Sleep seemed to be the only prescription he could afford. I don't know what it was about the man that caused me to befriend him. Whether it was the fact he often smiled, even as tears ran down his face, leaving behind reminders of what his face looked like when it was clean and free of the city dust. Maybe it was because often when I would see him, sharing a sandwich, I knew we would take a moment to pray. Perhaps it was because this was not the first time I had received an invite to come and visit, up under the overpass, where several people not only stored all their belongings, but managed to find a safe and dry place to sleep. It was the realization that this man was my brother, who loved me as Christ loved. Unconditionally. The hopes and dreams of this brother had been shaped by abuse, washed over by rain clouds, and brought into the light by police who warned the man that the place where he stayed was private property and to "move along" when someone complained about "those men" urinating in public and that it "smelled." I didn't witness most of this, however, I do remember a call one night about three am, when police and social workers, under the direction of a city agency who claimed the property, we're given the okay to "re-settle" all those who lived under the overpass. My thoughts immediately took me back to a conversation I had with a Jewish holocaust survivor who referred to being "re-settled" when people began to complain about "those people." Was this the beginning of a new effort to commit genocide? Only thing was that this involved the poor, mentally challenged, black man that was my brother who loved me unconditionally. That next day I would search multiple sites, where abandoned and condemned buildings were once again suddenly being opened by city officials, who had made contracts with land owners to forgive taxes and city code violations, to give a new location to "those people" who now urinated in alleys because toilets were dry, and we're beyond repair. I cried, and I discovered the words of Matthew pounding in my chest with each heart beat. The same pressure I recently felt when watching children run in the street, while bullets flew, and fists were raised. "Woe unto those who saw and did nothing," first came as a thought, then a whisper, and now calls out! Remembering that night years ago, and seeing the streets filled with confusion. Where "those people" is ALL of us! While we watch, and then struggle to decide which side to claim, our God watches, and I pray, "My God is good. My God is great. Thy kingdom come I will be done. Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me. Thank you for this day and my bread I was given. If I die before I wake, heaven is where I will be. Amen." Through the grate above, where laws litter and politicians claim righteousness, we struggle to see clearly the light, which cannot be overcome. Jesus is whispering, "Woe..." We must realize that those we see as the least of these, matter. What violence and hate we perpetuate will dwell on our streets and in our homes. I am reminded of a man who prayed. I am challenged by a Disciple who was inspired to write. I am moved by a God who is saying, "Woe unto each of us who saw and did nothing...." Stay in God's grip! G. Todd Williams (c) 2020  "May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace in believing, so that by the power of the Holy Spirit you may abound in hope." ~ Romans 15:13 Ten years ago I was recovering from a series of setbacks following a health crisis that did more than just change me physically. I was also changed emotionally and spiritually. I can remember days struggling to find the strength to get out of bed, curtains drawn, and not even taking the time to turn on the television. Opening the drapes and turning on the television seemed to remind me that the world was continuing to carry on without me, and I felt isolated and alone.
Depression had become my friend, and I allowed it to convince me that things would not get better, and somehow, I no longer saw myself as having worth. My family had tried to get me to come out of this place I seemed to have created for myself, thinking that the change in scenery might do me good. I soon learned that it had nothing to do with the scenery around me. It had to do with what was inside. Days turned into weeks, and weeks into months. Each day was the same. Endless moments of finding things to numb me from the day, and the hope that somehow someone or some thing would change my life. Those were very dark days, and I will admit, to think of them now still leaves me feeling the pain, and I think about what I lost along the way. It is a chapter in my life I wish that I could resolve in my mind. Funny how the solitude of those days seems to invite me to consider the life that I am living now. With so many of us now working from home, limiting our contact with others, and focused on covering ourselves to shield us from the unknown. I will admit, many of my days now remind me of those days a decade ago, except this time, even my neighbor seems to understand what this experience feels like. During that time I met a man who turned out to be a large part of my recovery from those days of isolation. It's at this time that I remind myself to tell others that therapy can be beneficial. For me, I know it saved my life. While sitting in Tony's office one day, he asked me, "Todd, what is it that brings you joy?" While being focused on my pain and loss, I failed to remember that even while living through these moments, I could still seek joy. I just remember looking at him and thinking, "Has he not been listening to me? I'm really messed up right now and he is asking me 'What brings me joy?'" During these days where we all seem to be focused on what we have lost, I am reminded of this question over and over again. Tony went on to remind me that sometimes we just "have to seek our and name what it is that brings us joy." At that time I had an aging schnauzer named, Sully, that required me to take him on walks throughout the day. Often waiting by the door, and then coming into my bedroom and nudging me to come out. As soon as the leash was touched, he would begin to leap and dance. Every time was the same. I can remember thinking, "If only the thought of walking outside would make me this happy." I had lost my home during my illness, and was now living with a friend who lived in a Jewish community that was filled with older neighbors who would often start conversations with me all because of Sully and his wanting to be friends with every person we would encounter. I would often hear stories of survival, as many had immigrated to the United States following WWII. Sometimes I would talk to Tony about them, and then compare their strength of overcoming dark times to my weakness of just trying to find a way to be happy. Time and time again he would ask, "So, what brought you joy today?" "Again with the joy?" I would remark. One day he finally said, "Look, the next time you're out with Sully I want you to take your phone and take a picture of something that brings you joy. I don't care what it is. Just snap a picture and bring it in and let's talk about it." I agreed and thought to myself, "I'll show him what a crazy therapeutic idea this is." I took a photo of a bumper sticker, "Save the Ta Ta's." Knowing Tony was gay, I thought that a bumper sticker for breast cancer awareness would make him role his eyes at me and realize how crazy this this suggestion was. I printed the picture out on a piece of letter size paper, folded it and placed it in my pocket. I arrived at his office and when he asked, I made the big reveal. He laughed out loud, and exclaimed, "Yes! This is awesome!" His response made me laugh, and suddenly I discovered that joy had shown up in spite of my own determination to cause the experiment to fail. In my own mission to fail, I had discovered success. For the next several months he would continue to ask, and I would continue to take pictures and bring them in. Before long, I looked forward to my walks with Sully. Sapping photos, and seeking out the things that no longer served as something to make Tony question why I took the photo. Instead, I found that I was looking for the things that truly brought me joy. Nearly ten years later, I start my day in much the same way. While both Tony and Sully have since died, my desire to seek out things that bring me joy each day just has become part of my life. I will admit, I still have my moments, and having some of the same feelings that I did ten years ago about being "stuck" at home due to the pandemic, I still find the need to seek something that brings me joy each day. I also keep that first picture I took available to remind me of where I "started," the journey and where it has brought me. Seek out what brings you joy! Stay in God's grip! G. Todd Williams (c) 2020  “You will seek me and find me when you seek me with all your heart.” ~ Jeremiah 29:13 I have been visiting a woman lately who just seems to always provide me with some kind of wisdom during our conversations. Recently I asked, "So, what advice would you give to the world today?"
She sat for a moment and then said, "People need to remember to clear the pathway to their hearts." She continued, "We all seem to have so much stuff cluttering our way. Angry people are those people who stub their toe on their path. Hurt people who stumble over the things that people have placed along they way. And then of course, our own stuff. Stuff that shouldn't be there in the first place, but we just think we have to have it some way in our life." I've thought about this alot, and what "gets in the way," of that pathway in my own life. She reminded me, "And you're the only one that can figure out what the pathway needs to look like, because each one of us have our own heart, and we all know the way to it." For many of us, we are unfamiliar with the terrain that surrounds our pathway. Sometimes we can let things get in the way of being able to see the pathway ahead, and then we struggle to find our way back to start again. The pathway to our heart should be a known and safe journey. For some there will be fear. For some, a skip. Others, may very well give up and never open their heart to anything. No matter where you are, the pathway to your heart is always your journey if you are willing. Stay in God's grip! G. Todd Williams (c) 2020  The third time he said to him, “Simon son of John, do you love me?” Peter was hurt because Jesus asked him the third time, “Do you love me?” He said, “Lord, you know all things; you know that I love you.” ~ John 21:17 This morning I am struggling to find words. I don't ever surrender to the thought of "writer's block," because even when I can't seem to find the words to write how I am feeling, I always can find the words to describe what this feels like. I am reminded that even in the silence, there exists a word for that.
Each of us are the instrument that God chooses to reveal God's presence in the world today. For some reason this morning I am struck by the question that Jesus asked Peter, "Do you love me? Do you love me?" I think it is because right now I am uncertain. Not uncertain in the sense that I fail to love Jesus, but the fact that I seem to fail in other areas. I do believe that after nearly four months of living in the pandemic, I am beginning to doubt. I am reminded that I cannot remove my eyes from "the prize," but yet, I am struck by the fact that I am looking down. I stare at the floor, and I am struck by how my feet no longer seem to move. I am stuck. I am stuck. I am reminded of a sermon that I heard years ago by a colleague who shared, "At some point, we all must learn to live as if we are Christian living in exile." Somehow this exile is supposed to become something that will bear fruit and enrich our lives. We are all beginning to realize that the place that we once "knew," will not be the place that we return. We all are different because everything is different. It's as if we are being asked to remain contemplative in the midst of the whirlwind. This morning I seem to recognize that we are all living in such a wounded world right now. It's as if we are being invited to fully realize our intimate relationship with Jesus. If by some miracle, this experience will make us better instruments to serve and love one another. It's as if we are being reminded that we are in communion with Christ, and that we are in communion with all people. We need to take this opportunity to see one another as brothers and sisters. Perhaps my loss for words is because I am struggling. In my faith, spirituality, love and hope. I understand that we must find solidarity with the marginalized, work to live out our steadfast love for our enemies, and reconciliation with all people as our sisters and brothers. I always strive to tell others who are discouraged that "God loves" them, while struggling to hear these words for myself. We live in a world that needs the manifestation of Christ. We are living in a time where we can no longer "talk" about love, but must radiate God's love. We must engage in the effort. We cannot let the image of fearful, angry people reveal the demons that exist. This is what death wants from us. I am reminded that we live, not in the shadow of the cross, but in the light of one who has been resurrected! As I finish this post, I have left the silence, and have found the image of the One who meets each of us with outstretched hands, who made the choice to be with each of us on days like this. Stay in God's grip! G. Todd Williams (c) 2020  “Be anxious for nothing, but in everything by prayer and supplication, with thanksgiving, let your requests be made known to God.” ~ Philippians 4:6 Something that I have been struggling to do lately is to live in the present. I seem to be reacting to a number of things. Both my parents have been struggling with COVID, with my father being admitted to the hospital for a period of time to help him with symptoms. It seems that there is an overwhelming presence of uneasiness everywhere I turn.
I have replayed in my mind over and over the words that Paul wrote to the Philippians to, "Not be anxious for anything," while listening to my father share about his anxiety of not being able to breathe. (Philippians 4:6) I have to remind myself that God is the God of the present. When Moses encounters the burning bush, he asks what God's name is? The bush responds that God is simply "I am." A reminder that God is not focused on the past, or what will be. God is a God of the present. God lives in our moments with us. As we wait for a call. When we wander along unknown pathways. Or when we find that we fail to recognize the present. I spend most of my days talking with hospice patients about the past. Rarely do we talk about the present, but when I encounter people who are living in the present, it is amazing what I often learn. I'm so thankful that God is not someone who was or will be, but the One who is, and who is for us in the present moment. Stay in God's grip! G. Todd Williams (c) 2020  There is a time for everything, and a season for every activity under the heavens: a time to be born and a time to die, a time to plant and a time to uproot, a time to kill and a time to heal, a time to tear down and a time to build, a time to weep and a time to laugh, a time to mourn and a time to dance, a time to scatter stones and a time to gather them, a time to embrace and a time to refrain from embracing, a time to search and a time to give up, a time to keep and a time to throw away, a time to tear and a time to mend, a time to be silent and a time to speak, a time to love and a time to hate, a time for war and a time for peace. ~ Ecclesiastes 3:1 - 8 Ecclesiastes opens with these words, "For everything there is a season, a time for every activity under heaven."
Have you ever looked back at your life and asked yourself, "Why did this happen?" I don't feel like it's something that any of us has not experienced. A relationship ends. A job comes to a close. Another month of the calendar is torn from the wall. We are filled with Ecclesiastical moments. We seem to be in a constant state of change at this time. Each new day seems to bring a new chapter. As someone shared in church yesterday, "We are just all exhausted about now." Years ago I sat in the office of a dear friend, she reminded me of this verse in scripture and said, "Okay, so this chapter of your life is over. It was specific for a time and purpose and now it is complete." I must have looked lost, but then she said, "But don't worry. Don't ever think that your life is over. You have a new chapter that hasn't begun to be written." I know I felt relieved, but also overwhelmed at the same time. For me it meant I would have to rely on God to lead, for me to follow, but most of all, be willing to step out and start creating the new chapter. I wonder if the tree of the field feels sad when winter begins to approach and it must watch as the leaves change color and fall to the ground, exposing itself to the harsh reality of winter? Then in the spring, feeling the warmth of the sun, stirring something from deep within, that brings forth buds and a burst of life that once again creates shade and new limbs that the birds of the field may rest upon. Each day is an unwritten page in the chapter of life. If you have experienced loss, or simply can't imagine another day like yesterday, then perhaps a new chapter is in order. I'm grateful for the words my friend shared. It really helped me to know that God was not done, and that better things were definitely awaiting. Have a great week living out this season, or chapter, of your life. Stay in God's grip! G. Todd Williams (c) 2020  “These things I have spoken to you, that in Me you may have peace. In the world you will have tribulation; but be of good cheer, I have overcome the world.” ~ John 16:33 Peace, for me, is the emotion I identify with faith.
Sometimes I wonder if we consider peace to be an adjective to describe our faith, or as the manifestation of how God is present and watching over us. It seems that these days require disturbance, anxiety, or uncertainty. It seems as if there are demands on us that then begin to characterize our life. It brings about anything but peace. Sometimes I long to hear the words, "I've got a peaceful, easy feeling," playing again on the radio. But Christ reminds us that peace is an important factor in our faith. It is the very thing he proclaims is left for us. Stay in God's grip!  "Peace I leave with you; my peace I give you. I do not give to you as the world gives. Do not let your hearts be troubled and do not be afraid." ~ John 14:27 "Do not let your hearts be troubled and do not be afraid."
I have come face to face with the reality that my heart is both troubled, and I am afraid. While the verse begins with Jesus sharing his peace with us, I am surrounded by my own troubles and fears. Somewhere in the midst of our chaotic world, there still exists this peace. I am reminded that peace still exists. We must be willing to allow the place for it to appear. Peace, for me, is the emotion I identify with faith. Sometimes I wonder if we consider peace to be an adjective to describe our faith, or as the manifestation of how God is present and watching over us? It seems that the days we now encounter require disturbance, anxiety, or uncertainty. It seems as if there are demands on us that then begin to characterize our life. It brings about anything but peace. But Christ reminds us that peace is an important factor in our faith. It is the very thing he proclaims is left for us. How different would our life be if we proclaimed peace instead of spending all our time seeking answers? How different would our life be if we practiced peace, rather than trying to find a new way to get even? Or how different would our life be if we simply allowed that peace of Christ to move us to extend it to others? May the peace of Christ, along with the understanding of just how that peace can make your faith visible to others, while calming your life, fill you today and always. Stay in God's grip! G. Todd Williams (c) 2020  For we are God’s handiwork, created in Christ Jesus to do good works, which God prepared in advance for us to do. ~ Ephesians 2:10 I awoke early this morning, returned to bed, and woke up a few hours later, still struggling with the idea of, "How do I love my neighbor when we have encountered great pain," and, "If I fail to ask for forgiveness, or I am not asked for forgiveness, do I then enter into sin against my neighbor?"
Even as I shared my journey, two friends that I would consider theologians because they have both devoted their lives to the study of their faith, began to argue about what is "sin." Oh, the times that we live in! What I discerned from their conversation is that somewhere we seem to disconnect from what God wants for us, and we begin to spiral into what we want for ourselves. I will admit, I have been both baited, and offered bait, in order to draw in discussions that I knew would end badly. In the Evangelical Dictionary of Theology we read: "In the biblical perspective, sin is not only an act of wrongdoing but a state of alienation from God… It signifies the rupture of a personal relationship with God, a betrayal of the trust God places in us…sin (harmartia) is not just a conscious transgression of [God’s] law but a [weakening] ongoing state of [hatred of] God…sin…can be thought of as [an evil], personal power that holds [all of] humanity in its grasp. (1103) I seem to be finding some comfort in also acknowledging the struggle between the inward journey that God is calling us to take, while the world seems to want our undivided attention. I don't know whether it is the actual lack of being present with others, or weighing too much emphasis on Facebook and the definition of "friend." (That could be the subject of an entire Sunday morning sermon!) I think that what I am discovering is that many of us are simply not comfortable in our own skins. The world challenges us to look for ourselves, while all along, we are being reminded to look to God. I recognize this, even within my own self. Again, I hear Jesus praying to God and reminding God that, "They are still in the world. You gave them to me..." but then we seem to have lost sight of the "Word." I am reminded of the opening words of the Gospel of John, "And the word became flesh." This morning, I am face to face with my own failure to become those words, but then, I turn and look in the mirror and realize that there is still hope. We still are all created in the image of God, who first loves each of us equally. Beyond the color of our skin. Our struggles in poverty and wealth. When we fail to see one another as brothers and sisters. We need to remember that as long as we have breath within us, we still carry the word in us as well. We no longer need to search, because the words have been placed in our hearts. We simply need to remember to speak from our heart and allow them to become our flesh. When we fail to speak out of love, that is why we fail one another. Stay in God's grip! G. Todd Williams (c) 2020  “I have loved you with an everlasting love; therefore I have continued my faithfulness to you.” ~ Jeremiah 31:3 I have encountered many ups and downs in my lifetime, including relationships, jobs, and with myself. Many times in my life I have seen myself as useless, and unloved. We all have experienced moments where we have needed a sense of "belonging," of "being loved."
I am drawn to the day that Jesus was baptized, and as the water fell from his face, the sky opened and a voice proclaimed that he was indeed, God's "beloved." We too, seek similar moments. Where we are washed over by feelings of that love, and have a need to hear these words. We long for that "inner voice," to remind us of our worth, and that we are not alone. A year ago I was busy caring for my cousin, John, who had suffered many years with addiction. Often homeless, or incarcerated, John carried with him many childlike qualities. Even this morning, I can hear his scruffy voice reminding me, "You know cuz, I love you." It's hard to believe that a year ago we would be starting our final week together, and what the coming days would bring before he died. I suppose that I am grieving him this morning, while also celebrating the anniversary of my ordination and six years of marriage. The impact of all these milestones leaves me filled with mixed emotions as I write these words. I am reminded that we are invited to be vulnerable people. John, in his final days, found a place where he could honestly share his fears, the deep pains of his addictions, and the losses he had encountered, while also finally finding a place where he knew and felt loved. I think that what I have discovered this morning, is that voice, reminding me that I am also "beloved." Each of us have a deep longing in our heart to find this place. The place where we are able to hear this voice, and to know of our worth. To encounter grace, and to be brought to a place where we can experience healing and wholeness. Acknowledging our pain and losses, while also facing the times that we have done harm to others, while doubting ourselves. Finding our true home is a journey of not just faith. It is about surrendering ourselves to be guided as well. We must find ways to be directed by our heart, so that we can emerge from where we are and discover our sacred home. Each day we must find ways to take, even the smallest steps, towards the life that God has for us, while avoiding bitter and resentful moments. I consider the years and times that God's people have lived in exile, and I recognize their words they have left for us. They say that, "some things never change." I have to believe that it is God that never changes. We just have to remember this each day as we make our way home. I am reminded of two things... not to get too absorbed and distracted by the past, that I fail to see the blessings that today has to offer. Stay in God's grip! G. Todd Williams (c) 2020  We love because he first loved us. ~ 1 John 4:19 I got married six years ago this week. It was a very interesting time in my life. My children were now adults, and after going through some difficult milestones in my life, I suddenly found myself just a few days away from getting married and sitting in the Basilica of the National Shrine of the Immaculate Conception in Washington D. C., thinking about love while surrounded by images that illustrated just how much God loves each of us.
As I visited the many altars within the Basilica, each one with their own reflection of Mary and Jesus, I noted different nationalities and colors, but that the message of God's love transcended throughout it all. Often we speak about love as if it is a feeling. But if we wait for a feeling of love before loving, we may never learn to love well. It had been a long time since I had actually "been" in love. The feeling of love is beautiful and life-giving, but our loving cannot be based in that feeling. To love is to think, speak, and act according to the spiritual knowledge that we are infinitely loved by God and called to make that love visible in this world. Mostly we know what the loving thing to do is. When we "do" love, even if others are not able to respond with love, we will discover that our feelings catch up with our acts. How do we know that we are infinitely loved by God when our immediate surroundings keep telling us that we'd better prove our right to exist? The knowledge of being loved in an unconditional way, before the world presents us with its conditions, cannot come from books, lectures, television programs, or workshops. This spiritual knowledge comes from people who witness to God's love for us through their words and deeds. These people can be close to us but they can also live far away or may even have lived long ago. Their witness announces the truth of God's love and calls us to act in accordance with it. Stay in God's grip! G. Todd Williams (c) 2020  "I always thank my God as I remember you in my prayers, because I hear about your faith in the Lord Jesus and your love for all the saints." ~ Philemon 4 How do we know that we are infinitely loved by God when our immediate surroundings keep telling us that we'd better prove our right to exist?
The knowledge of being loved in an unconditional way, before the world presents us with its conditions, cannot be taught. It is something that comes from above and from within. It's like looking into a mirror, and going past the initial reflection. It means looking within and seeing God's love manifested in a great way, while making itself known through our words and actions. When I think of those that live around me, I witness what unconditional love is. When I think of my grandparents, and some of the other saints that taught me so much about the love of God, I witness unconditional love. We are called to be that witness. A reflection, that announces the truth of God's love and calls us to act in accordance with it. Be the reflection of God's unconditional love and give thanks! Stay in God's grip! G. Todd Williams (c) 2020  Come to Me, all you who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest. Take My yoke upon you and learn from Me, for I am gentle and lowly in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. ~ Matthew 11:28 - 29 This morning I woke up with the thought that I seem to be "carrying" a lot of things on my shoulders right now. Some of the things I am carrying are actually weighing me down, both physically and spiritually. A few of the these things are also quite painful.
As I sort through everything, I realize that some are strictly my own pain, but many are the pain that I can identify as being something that God struggles with me to understand. In the gospel of Matthew we are reminded to, "Come unto me, all who labor and are heavy laden." Matthew continues with the words of Jesus, declaring that by doing so we shall find "rest," for our souls. I am uneasy, and many others who surround my life are uneasy as well. When I think of Jesus, I realize that the burdens that Jesus bears at this point involves the weight of all humanity. And then I realize, Jesus has carried the weight of humanity's burdens since the very beginning. Even as the world has grown in population, Jesus has allowed for the weight of all humanity. Within the text, we are invited to bear this weight with Jesus as well. Somehow it is described as being "light," in weight, or somehow it is meant to make things better for us. I am challenged to think that I should cast more weight on the shoulders of Jesus, while somehow, reaching out and inviting the weight of all humanity to be added to what I have known, witnessed, and experienced. I feel both sorrow and gratefulness for a Savior who has yet to proclaim, "I can't take this any longer." There exists a great mystery of how this relationship bears fruit. I am reminded that a yoke requires balance, and strength. That carrying the weight of others must be distributed in a way that I can both hold it steady and move at the same time. A yoke is about being able to carry something from one place to another. It is not merely taking hold and just standing still. Perhaps that is why in the sharing there is finally the surrendering that does take place. Taking on the yoke of Jesus is also about surrendering that which we carry. I am reminded that I am met with God's love every time that I find that I am no longer able to carry these things alone. I am also reminded time and time again that I must surrender inwardly, where Christ dwells, and in doing so, I relinquish myself and embrace the embodiment of Christ within. It is then that I suddenly realize that "rest to the soul," is about finding a place of peace. It's not always about relinquishing the problem, but finding a peaceful way of working through it. It's no longer "just my burden." It is a shared understanding of what the "burden," or "problem," is and that with the help of Christ, I might find a way to move forward while taking the yoke of Christ with me. It is not always about ignoring the load, it is about finding a way to carry the load in a way that it no longer has power, heaviness, or a paralyzing presence in our life. Stay in God's grip! G. Todd Williams (c) 2020  Praise the LORD! Praise the LORD, O my soul! I will praise the LORD as long as I live; I will sing praises to my God all my life long. ~ Psalm 146:1 -2 When I first went to work in the corporate world after college, I realized within the first few years that I was a complete micro manager! Not just a little. A whole lot!I
f there was a problem in the company I worked for, and it was within the area that I had been assigned, it wasn't solved with just a phone call. No! I got into my car and often went to where the issue was located to fix it, and living in Wyoming at the time, I sometimes drove hundreds of miles to solve it. The end result wasn't always the best solution. Many times it left me tired, and with no time to do the real job that I had effectively. I think that is the gift of youth. I had the energy to do all of that! Even as I aged it didn't necessarily get any better. I soon wanted to know exactly what my kids were up to. I monitored computer use, made sure I met friends, and even made sure clothing was appropriate. Yes, I was ONE OF THOSE dads! It wasn't until I found myself in a bad relationship, in a health crisis, and unable to care for myself that I suddenly had a real dose of reality. There are simply things in this world that I cannot control. As I look back, I ask God, "So, you think that you could have found an easier way for me to learn this fact?" You see, it wasn't so much God's doing. I'm part of the human race, and to put it simply, sometimes we mess up and we must learn to live with what has happened. It's an imperfect world, filled with imperfect people, and sometimes that imperfection can really control our lives. We can't fix everything. I would learn that as a chaplain. I was paged to the labor and delivery area of the hospital I was working one day. The page was in response to a code that was in progress. An infant girl, just two days old, was experiencing cardiac arrest. As I watched the team work on the tiny baby, I stood beside the young parents. The father was only 18 and the mother 16. As they watched, the doctor looked at me. I will never forget her eyes. We had worked together for some time, and the look that she gave me let me know that there was nothing in our control. I turned to the young father and said, "Your daughter needs you to be her daddy right now. I'm so sorry, but you need to make a decision. The team is going to keep trying, but this is not going to turn out well, or the way you hoped." Her father responded, "I thought that we would have her longer." "Every father hopes that he will have his daughter longer, but every father, at some point, must learn to let go." We must learn that the only real thing that we have control of is the love that we have for one another and for God. The rest, well let me just say, and even to remind myself, sometimes we simply can't do anything about. I can't tell you how many times when our hospice team discusses a patient and the patient's family that we share, "There is nothing we can do to put this in a box and tie it up with a pretty bow." I wish that I had some words of faith, or encouragement that would somehow make sense, or restore some ability to make the changes that we hope for, but sometimes, we must learn to let it go. Years ago someone told me to, "Let go and let God." As much as I would like to partner with God to still have some control, the response time and time again, is this... "I am with you always... even unto the ends of the earth." Stay in God's grip! G. Todd Williams (c) 2020 |
AuthorRev. G. Todd Williams lives in the Houston metro area and is a Hospice Chaplain and ordained Christian Church (Disciples of Christ) pastor. Archives
July 2020
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