 "Praise be to God, who has not rejected my prayer or withheld his love from me!" ~ Psalm 66:20 One of the things that I am discovering through current events is that my anxiety is causing me to "overthink," even the simplest of tasks. We wonder if each person we encounter could be the source of a virus that seems to be moving throughout the world.
The pressures of living in the world right now makes us react to questions and problems in much different ways. I have encountered a number of people who are bitter, have resentment, and even hatred. Blaming one another for not "taking greater steps," to ensure that others are "safe." We watch briefings by "experts," and fall into the pits of cynicism. I have to be careful not to lose my way. While I find that I am faithful, I struggle with the reality that I am doing just that... struggling. We look at the world and wonder. "God, I know that you are the God of the brokenhearted, but what about being the God of a broken world?" I am discovering that we aren’t questioning this with words, but our behavior betrays us. We say to a friend, “I will pray for you.” But we walk away without any sense of a commitment to pray because we have doubts about prayers being answered. We remember that we are called to be in communion with God, but somewhere deep down we really believe that it is action, not prayer, that will satisfy our needs. We may think prayer is good when there is nothing more important to do, but we have strong reservations and doubts about God’s effectiveness in our world, of God’s personal interest in us. We are no longer conscious of God-with-us. Having shared this, I am reminded that this journey is opening us up to something greater. The farmer must till the earth, breaking it open, to prepare the soil for planting. While I don't believe any of this is part of "God's plan," I do believe that there is indeed a seed being planted among us. It is being nurtured by hope. By God's own hand, pouring water that is washing over us. That there still exists the initial presence of peace. Right now it is still a struggle to understand how it is that the world has been completely changed in just a matter of weeks. Perhaps now we are beginning to understand what the world was experiencing as "God-with-us," hung on a cross and looked to the heavens and asked, "Why have you forsaken me?" We are praying for the words, "It is finished," at this point. To lead us to a new place, but while never forgetting that the One, "God-with-us," is indeed, present. Stay in God's grip! G. Todd Williams (c) 2020
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 "The Lord is close to the broken hearted, and saves those who are crushed in spirit." - Psalm 34:18 One of the most difficult things that all of us are discovering about now is that we are beginning to embrace our losses.
I have a number of friends who are sheltering in their homes, and my sister, who is a nurse, shared of caring for patients who have been infected with this virus the world now understands something about. Both of us live our lives caring for people, but for her, who doesn't often see the side of death that I do, admitted that she feels helpless as she and others cared for a 49-year-old woman who "they knew," could not be saved. Our losses are staggering at this point. There is something about loss that seems to evoke our woundedness and brokenness, while bringing them to the surface, until that's all we seem to focus on. Throughout scripture there is the reality that loss happens. There is not a single person that has ever existed that has not encountered some type of brokenness. And yet, it is the brokenness that opens one up to God's presence. To what point must any of us reach before we acknowledge that we cannot do this alone? Years ago while doing my Clinical Pastoral Care at M D Anderson, my supervisor, Michael Schirmacher, asked me why I smiled when talking about something very sad that had happened in my life? I had never thought about it. It was at that point that I realized that over the years, a smile had become a defense. He was onto something within me. My ability to be vulnerable was masked by something that was seen as acceptable, but was not real. Over the weekend I shared I reread the account of the death of Lazarus. His sisters were grieving and they tell Jesus, "If you had only been here our brother would not have died." Jesus weeps in front of those present. The vulnerability of Christ is powerful here. There are no words to express what he was feeling or thinking. He weeps. While many of us are wearing masks to protect ourselves against the virus at this point, but for many of us, we have worn some type of mask throughout our life to hide how we really feel. The intentions of our heart should be something that people can see and know about us. If we are broken, or have joy, or are simply unsure, then we should be willing and able to talk openly about these things. But we don't. Why is that? We have become 8 second sound bytes and then we are ready to move on, but for some, the wound is much deeper and requires much more attention. Our faith community should be a place where we can be honest. Our family should be a place where we can be completely vulnerable and know that we will remain loved when sharing our pain. God is aware of all our troubles. Even when we can't seem to find words, our silence, and often our tears, cry out and God is there. Being present for one another is among the most beautiful gifts we have to share with one another. Our ability to be honest in our vulnerability is truly a blessing as well. I hope that we all may be able to be ourselves through all the times of our lives with one another, and that because of that vulnerability, we are made whole through Christ our Lord who heals all. Stay in God's grip! G. Todd Williams (c) 2020  "[There is] a time for mourning, a time for dancing" (Ecclesiastes 3:4).
\nAbout now we are beginning to grieve the life that we once "knew." \nHenri Nouwen reminds us that mourning and dancing are never fully separated. Their "times" do not necessarily follow each other. In fact, their "times" may become one "time." \nMourning may turn into dancing and dancing into mourning without showing a clear point where one ends and the other starts. \nMany times in reflecting about death, we will remark that the family is "grieving appropriately." It is a remark to say that the family will be fine. Grief is something that we all experience. Some are able to incorporate that grief into life, like a dance. \nOften our grief allows us to choreograph our dance while our dance creates the space for our grief. \nWe lose a beloved friend, and in the midst of our tears we discover an unknown joy. We celebrate a success, and in the midst of the party we feel deep sadness. \nMourning and dancing, grief and laughter, sadness and gladness - they belong together, like a well orchestrated moment that finds us open to tears and laughter. \nLet's trust that the beauty of our lives becomes visible where mourning and dancing touch each other. \n"Dear God, may You move me by the events of my life to recognize that moments of joy and sadness are times available to mourn and dance. May I never loose the sound of the music of life, which moves my heart to tears and laughter. Amen." Stay in God's grip! G. Todd Williams (c) 2020  When the Lamb broke the seventh seal on the scroll, there was silence throughout heaven for about half an hour. ~ Rev. 8:1 This morning I woke up, like most of us, in a world we no longer understand. It made me begin to wonder what it must have been like in heaven leading up to the crucifixion of Christ. Was heaven watching as Jesus walked into a garden, fell to his knees, prayed, with sweat, like blood, running down his face, asking for the impossible? Knowing, yet, not knowing.
What was it like for those in heaven to watch as nails were driven into flesh, and he was lifted up, for all to see hanging? I read stories of doctors looking to the heavens for answers, while making decisions that are like Jesus' encounter in the garden. The only difference is that the blood metaphorically drips from their hands, as they must decide who should live and who will be left to die. It is an uneasiness that exists, and arrives at a time when we are invited and drawn to look inward. Jesus finally cries out, "It is finished!" Words that we wish we could utter, but know the journey is far from over. Heaven, for me, is more than the land of eternity. My life is surrounded daily by death. Heaven for me will be the place where there is no more death. No more good-byes, sadness, impossible bucket lists, tears... No more time. No more, no more... I am aware that we are living through moments that now rob us of our words, and our breath. Images flood our minds each day that bring us to silence. A mother looks at her three children home from school, where they were getting more than just an education, as she looks at the empty pantry. A man looks through the window of a nursing home into a room where his father is battling for his life, and aches to hold his hand and tell him, "I love you," one more time, while being kept from entering the facility for the "sake of safety." Thousands of bodies await cremation, and I wonder who will be there to remind us of the words that started our Lenten journey, "From ashes you were created, and to ashes you shall return?" Political promises made within ivory walls that will keep the poor in survival mode, while the rich discover ways to make sure they get their cut. There are no words to express what the mood was like in the earthly hours that must have seemed like an eternity to Jesus. The taste of sweat, blood, and the dirt in which all humanity had been created from, filled his mouth until he cried out that he thirst while he hung, dying, before a crowd that was anything but silent. Their echoes, still fill our city streets. The skies grew dark, and heaven rumbled. But what was the mood of the great cloud of witnesses who worship God, the Creator of all, as the Son was crucified? Where did the heavens turn their focus when the Son declared that He had been abandoned? Do we recognize the look as we see ourselves in the mirror? There are no descriptions of what God was thinking. God is silent. It is a sacred place to stand at the bedside of a child, as her parents surrender to the idea that she is dying, and watch as her final breath leaves, and she dies. There are no words to describe the silence. Heaven surely must have been silent. For many of us, we are silent now. I have to believe that in heaven, a place where eternity has no timeline, this is a moment that will serve as a milestone for many. May we discover the sacredness of a moment today, that leaves us simply standing in our steps. A moment where we meet God. May we be reminded that there was indeed a moment, when Jesus breathed his last breath, and in that moment, humanity and heaven were forever changed. Stay in God's grip! G. Todd Williams (c) 2020  "The Lord will guide you always, and satisfy your needs in [the parched] land, and will strengthen your frame. And you will be like a well-watered garden, like a spring whose waters never fail." ~ Isaiah 58:11 Years ago, Helen Keller shared, "When one door of happiness closes, another opens; but often we look so long at the closed door that we do not see the one which has been opened for us."
About now many of us are looking at closed doors due to orders to "shelter in place," that we aren't even thinking about the open window. So often during the season of Lent we discover that we seem to adopt a mindset that we must spend our time "giving up something," or turning away from some habit. While this can be a positive thing for some, for others, it can also be the start of something else. For many about now, the experience is more than they can handle. God's desires for each of us include experiencing joy, happiness, and love, among other things. While some of our choices may keep us from fully realizing that these are essential touchstones of our faith, living out our faith does indeed also involve sacrifice, discipline but also restoration! The power of the cross leaves an image of suffering and death, and for some, that is often where the image of God ends. I have known people who feel that since Christ suffered, that somehow, they believe that by some circumstance, we too must suffer. On the same note, I also know people who hate this image, and that they can't wait until Easter morning to cry out to others, "He has risen." Both are important if we are going to experience the fullness of the Gospel. We must have death if there is going to be resurrection. We must have the resurrection if we are going to have eternity. While we continue to make our way through this season of Lent, don't find yourself getting caught in staring at doors that have been closed with new choices, or when turning back, also be sure to recognize the open window, allowing the light of God's love to shine. The restorative power of God is really what Lent is about. It is the still small voice within each of us, calling us to be who God wants us to be. Stay in God's grip! G. Todd Williams (c) 2020 Dear God, help me not to forget that when I find that I am sacrificing or surrender to Your desires for my life, that You are also restoring and creating within me the love, hope and joy that You have for me. Amen.  "I have loved you with an everlasting love; I have drawn you with lovingkindness. I will refresh the weary and satisfy the faint." ~ Jeremiah 31:3, 25 Last night as I let my dogs out, I stood on my back patio and watched as the fog drifted below larger clouds. Every now and then I could catch a glimpse of Venus and a few stars. There was no sound. Different layers of darkness could be determined, but yet there was light.
I looked down, and could see my shadow. The lamp just inside the window, glowed dimly through the screen. The light was enough for me to clearly see my image outlined. In my mind I asked Venus if she knew what was happening here on earth, and how things seem to have changed so much in just a short period of time? She was silent, but continued to shine. I realize that this was not the first time she had heard this from someone on earth. I remember a few years ago, watching as the Space Station traveled across the sky, soaring high above and moving almost five miles per second. I watched as it crossed the horizon, and thought of astronauts who were looking down on us. Funny how we always seem to be looking "elsewhere." I suppose it's because we understand that this life is temporary. Our spirit, no matter how settled we may be in our life, longs to be elsewhere. Recently a man told me his wife's spirit was "making a deal with her body," on how long she would continue to live within, knowing that earth was not her home, and that heaven was waiting. Staring at the sky last night, while by myself, I did not feel alone. Of course Venus didn't answer, but somewhere along the way, I realized my voice joined others, in looking up and asking God, "Are you seeing what's happening?" I found myself being part of the entire human race, both present and past, who have looked up and asked the God who created me and all those who have come before and asking, "Are you there?" It's times like these that I wish the disciples had shared of their experience, of laying under a sky like this with Jesus, and listening to Jesus share of what it was like when the stars, and Venus were created. Did he find himself sitting under a sky like the one I was experiencing? Did he look to the heavens and share with God what this whole experience felt like? Did the disciples push him further and ask him, "Do you hear the Creator now? While we are struggling to understand what it is like for you to be the Messiah, walking among the Creation that you helped to create, and now looking up from the very place where you shaped mud and blew your breath into to give life, we are wondering, 'What is it that you are thinking?'" Did Jesus turn over, and tell the disciples to, "Go to sleep?" I continued to stand and look upward, hoping that I am asking God the right questions, so that I am not met with the words, "Go to bed, now, Todd." Instead, I looked to the heavens and did not ask, "Why?" I looked upward and asked, "Please, hear our prayers. For the answers we need. For the comfort of the widow, who has just lost her husband. For the child who suddenly has become an orphan, and for the stranger, who is now like me, looking upward to the sky and wondering if you are watching? We are being told not to be near one another, and I know that you understand what this is like. Even Your son sat in a garden, with much darkness, and asked for a cup to be passed from him. Did you see him, alone? Did you hear Him, like I am asking now?" I turned, called the dogs to come in from the yard, and I once again looked to the heavens, thinking of my own family and friends. My coworkers at hospice who continue to care for the dying each day, and that while death is something we know awaits each of us, there are many who are not ready to face what lies ahead. My heart aches for those in my faith community who, for many, coming together to worship is the only time that they encounter a hug, the reminder that we can share the peace of Christ with one another, and that everything will "be okay." Life has been disrupted. The door closed behind me, and I turned off the lamp. In the dark I know my way across the room. Somewhere in the darkness, I was reminded that God will continue to lead us. Our spirit knows the way, and that we must not forget that God is still sustaining our journey. Guiding our steps, hearing our words, and reminding us to remain faithful. I'm not sure what it is about this encounter that has remained with me this morning as I sit, drink my coffee and sit on that same patio that now is illumined by the morning light. Perhaps it's because we could all use a reminder about now that there are better days to come. Stay in God's grip! G. Todd Williams (c) 2020  "Perseverance must finish its work so that you may be mature and complete, not lacking anything." ~ James 1:4 If there is one thing that we are all learning about now with the world pandemic, it is that we must find a way to clear a pathway to our heart.
As the small faith community that I pastor voted to suspend our worship services for the next two weeks, I was overwhelmed by tears as one of the members of the Session prayed at the end of the meeting. My mind couldn't seem to find peace, and all I could think about were those who already live their life so isolated because of age and condition. I thought of the families that cannot enter into nursing homes to visit loved ones right now, and how those who already suffer from some form of Alzheimer's or dementia, are now not only suffering from the loss of their memories, but the connection to what life they once lived. Even this morning as I write this, knowing that I will be visiting hospice patient's in their homes, I am trying to find ways to be calm and quiet myself to be the presence that I need to be for those God has called me to serve. I realize that following the pathway to my heart is about being fully awake and following with every moment, what is happening within me. It requires the discipline to clearly allow my heart to be vulnerable, and for God to remain close with each breath that I take. Suddenly I realize that for every one of us who have or is currently experiencing isolation, the pathway to our heart offers the freedom to stroll through our own inner yard, to explore flowers, and rake the leaves and clear the path so you so that the pathway is clear. Perhaps there is fear and uncertainty as we travel this terrain that we have never known before, but slowly and surely we will discover an order, and a new familiarity that will deepen our longing to stay home within ourselves. "Goodness and mercy," are still following after us. The promises of God still exist, and they will lead us all to the place in our heart where meadows are green and still waters will calm. Stay in God's grip! G. Todd Williams (c) 2020  "Do not let the floodwaters engulf me or the depths swallow me up or the pit close its mouth over me. Answer me, O Lord, out of the goodness of your love; in your great mercy turn to me." ~ Psalm 69:15 - 16 I am reminded of a woman who shared, "I just can't seem to find God."
The middle-aged woman looked over at her mother who no longer remembers her name. The two had spent the last twenty years living together. The first five of those years were filled with many trips, many friends, and many memories. "Alzheimer's introduced itself to my mother about six years ago, and they began traveling without me. It takes my mother to so many unknown places." With each year that passed, her mother's presence changed, until she no longer recognized her daughter, or knew friends that they had once spent hours upon hours with. The daughter admitted, "I just finally gave up, and now we are here." She looks around a very "institutional green room," as she describes it. She looked at me and commented that she kept remembering the verse from Peter of "waiting for and hastening the coming of the day of God," hoping that "today will be that day." She admitted that she wished that her mother could just finally, "pass away," noting that it is too hard to "see her like this," and then admitting feeling "guilty." "How does anyone wish that their mother would just die?" I remember with those words she began to cry harder. I just remember hugging her, trying to find the words to share at that time, and realizing that the silence was enough. The greatest gift of love that we can give to one another is when we realize that we must surrender ourselves and those that we love to God. It is no longer waiting to hasten God's arrival, it is our ability to sit and open our eyes and to begin to see what God is doing. For any of us, our waiting, watching, and even our serving others, has to do with being able to wait with our eyes open and actually become "seers." I am reminded that while Jesus was carrying the cross throughout the streets of Jerusalem, those present were also being invited to see what lengths God will go to ensure that we get a glimpse of what God is doing. John, even in the wilderness declared, "The Kingdom of God is at hand!" God's coming is all around us! In the times that we are currently living, we are being invited to remove blinders, or even blindfolds that many of us wear each day, and look around us. To sit in quiet places and to look not only outward, but inward as well. God is already present where we are! The place in which you stand is already holy! We are to keep our eyes open. To seek to find ways that the Spirit of the Living God can touch us, speak to us, and guide. Even to places that may suddenly be unpredictable, and even difficult. We are invited to look fully at God where we encounter God's grace and mercy. Open your eyes and see the God that encircles us, pursues after us, and is waiting for moments to be able to catch up with us! God is always within us, even when God seems to be beyond us. We are invited to loosen our grip on life, and instead, allow God to hold us in God's grip! G. Todd Williams (c) 2020  "May the words of my mouth and the meditation of my heart be pleasing in your sight, O Lord, my Rock and my Redeemer." ~ Psalm 19: 14 I wish that I could say that I have always been a fan of silence, but that would be far from the truth.
Even as far back as a young child, my first transistor radio would play at all hours of the day and night. I can remember listening to the local AM farm report so that I would know how to dress before heading out to feed our cattle in the morning, and what to wear to school when the school bus arrived by 6:45 am. The radio operated on four "C" batteries that I would buy from KMart when we would go into town. I carried the radio with me all the time, including when I checked our fence line after a storm, or was sitting next to the creek. I guess I was about twelve when I lost the "privilege" of having that radio when I failed to listen to what my stepfather was saying to me. The radio was taken away from me, and I never saw it again. It was as if I had lost a friend, but more than that, I was left in silence. I just remember not knowing what to do. I would sing familiar songs, and sometimes when really silent, I would pick up my guitar and strum out a tune. I didn't know how to react to the silence. I guess in some ways I should thank him. In those quiet hours I would write, draw, and begin to talk to God in a new way. I began to have conversations with God, often telling God what I was thinking, and hoping for. All of a sudden, the life that had been filled with constant sound, was being changed into something different. I was learning to have a relationship with God, and I was learning to be comfortable with "me." I have often thought about what the world would be like without the constant noise that surrounds us. Automobiles zooming. Announcers breaking news, and selling products we must have. Politicians making promises, and planes soaring above among silent drifting clouds. I think it's interesting in scripture that it is not until the storm is crashing that the Disciples call out to God to bring peace and silence. It is up to us to seek the silence and the calm in order to hear God's voice. We start with us. Scripture reminds us that we are the beginning. Our words, our thoughts and our actions are the beginning of God's presence in our life, and demonstrates that presence to others. While the world seeks to gain our attention each day, the need for silence beckons to bring us closer to God. May the words of our mouths and the meditations of our hearts be the beginning of peace and God's presence to and for one another. Stay in God's grip! G. Todd Williams (c) 2020  Cast all your anxiety on because he cares for you. ~ 1 Peter 5:7 We all know a little bit about worry about now. In the movie Steel Magnolias, one of the characters, Shelby, turns to her mother and shares, "I never worry because I know you're worrying enough for the both of us."
Why is it that we worry and experience anxiety? When you think about it, the Bible is full of scriptures to turn to when we feel worried or anxious. It serves as a reminder that every generation has experienced these feelings. Ultimately the stories and quotes remind and encourage us to trust in the love and power of God in order to find peace. Let's face it, life can simply be overwhelming at times, especially in today's ever-increasing complexity. If you then add worry and anxiety to the complexity, then life can seem to be a real struggle. Learning to take time to breathe, have a time of meditation, and being able to talk about the things that bring on worry and anxiety can be ways to overcome worry and anxiety. For me, I sometimes must remind myself to, "not let my heart be burdened, but trust in God." (John 14:1) It is not always easy, but believing that God will be present does seem to help. Stay in God's grip! G. Todd Williams (c) 2020  However, as it is written, "No eye has seen, no ear has heard, no mind has conceived what God has prepared for those who love him" but God has revealed it to us by his Spirit. The Spirit searches all things, even the deep things of God. ~ 1 Corinthians 2:9,10 During the season of Lent, I am reminded that we are to be people of hope. While we acknowledge the journey of Jesus during this season, we are reminded to look inward, and not get tangled up with the things of this world.
Time and time again Jesus draws us to God, in the prayers that he prays, in the miracles that he performs, and even as he is tossed among the waves. A person who has hope must always be directed back to God. While we still struggle with our daily desires, having faith is not about believing that every request will be fulfilled. As the song goes, "Sometimes I thank God for unanswered prayers." For the prayer of hope it is essential that there are no guarantees asked, no conditions posed, and no proofs demanded, only that you expect everything from the other without binding God. Hope is believing that what will be given will be good. Hope includes an openness by which you wait. Hope is believing that God's promises are true, and will be provided for, even though you never know when, where or how this might happen. Hope is always present. We must believe, while we remain In God's grip! G. Todd Williams (c) 2020  There are times I'm so thankful for "Memories," found on Facebook. I remember this day a year ago. The patient I met who was blind, who has completed his journey, became a friend before his death. I know I will meet him, and a countless other hospice patients I have met, again one day. From this day a year ago: Blue bonnets, baby squirrels and time with a man who is blind this morning. Years ago I wrote these words, "Sometimes the things of this world, or the next, can only be seen through the eyes of others." The baby squirrel, being cared for by a personal nurse, who is also the caregiver to a man who lost his eyes to cancer, quietly rested on the man's lap as we talked this morning. He shared about his life, the things he had done, "before all this happened to me." He described beaches he walked, mountains he climbed, and the "smile of my soul mate." "She will be there to greet me when I die. It will be soon." I couldn't help but look at the face of a sightless man who can see perfectly the world around him and of the world he will encounter next. His sharing reminded me of a patient I encountered during my residency at M D Anderson Cancer Center. The fourteen year old girl had a rare form of cancer that would require the removal of both eyes. Just days after her surgery her family was tuned into television reruns of the "Golden Girls." The patient laughed at the jokes and was able to remember the color of Blanche's dress. "It's purple," the girl shared with her mother. "Yes," her mother affirmed. Today the man spoke of the peace that he has about, "many things." "Like this squirrel that had no idea that someone was about to cut down the tree it was living in, and how he would be left with other babies on the ground. Or that someone would know how to pick him up with the other babies and wrap them and feed them." "I'm about as comfortable as this squirrel, and I'm dying." "I can see it all clearly." We know that faith is believing in all things we cannot see. Believing is hearing the words of a blind man who tells you what he can see and knows to be true. Stay in God's grip! G. Todd Williams (c) 2020   "Cast all your anxiety on him because he cares for you." ~ 1 Peter 5:7 Today I am seeking an ever deeper peace with God.
While adding water to my pond this morning, I listened as sea gulls soared above. It's a cloudy morning, and the Oak trees are pushing out their new leaves. Yellow pollen has blanketed everything, and I'm drawn in to watch, as two birds fight for the same spot at our bird feeder. Suddenly I realize that God is inviting me to have peace. Peace always resides underneath our turmoils and anxieties of our heart. I am aware that peace doesn't always mean inner harmony or emotional tranquility. The peace that God provides us quite often is beyond our thoughts and feelings, and we must trust that peace remains and is always there for us to claim. Even in the midst of chaos and moments of despair. "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) Stay in God's grip! G. Todd Williams (c) 2020  But the angel said to her, “Do not be afraid, Mary, you have found favor with God.” ~ Luke 1:30 The situation in our world is frightening, and many people experience deep anxieties. More than ever we will be tested in our faith.
Everywhere we turn we are being bombarded with information, and through each announcement, my hope is that we find a way to take a moment to simply breathe, and remember that God is still present and at work. While none of us know what the day may bring, it is that way every day for us. Our Lenten journey has certainly turned into something unexpected. I hope and pray that the Lord will deepen our faith during this time, and will find ways to fill us in ways that will remind us of God's kingdom. Hope is not optimism and I pray that we all will be able to live hopefully in the midst of what seems to be an apocalyptic time. We have a promise and God is faithful to his promise even when we are doubtful and fearful. As Paul says: “Our hope is not deceptive because the Holy Spirit has already been poured into us” (Romans 5:5). Stay in God's grip! G. Todd Williams (c) 2020  For when you did awesome things that we did not expect, you came down, and the mountains trembled before you. Since ancient times no one has heard, no ear has perceived, no eye has seen any God besides you, who acts on behalf of those who wait for him. ~ Isaiah 64:3 -4 This morning I have already been on the phone extending condolences to the family of one of my hospice patients who died over the weekend. As I spoke to his wife, she talked about how death is "a seed, planted in us, and at some time it makes itself known."
I know that death is something that none of us can avoid. The older I become, the more I realize that "seed." I am reminded that love is so much stronger than death, and as she continued, she shared of how important their life together has been, and that even though "death may have taken him away from me, our love will always be stronger than death." Death is the final part of our journey, but it is never the destination. Our exodus from this life brings us to the full realization of our identity as God's beloved. When we die, we enter into the full communion of God's love for us. During the season of Lent, I am often reminded that Jesus walked the past ahead of us, and invites us to follow. Jesus says, "Follow me," and reminds us, "Do not be afraid." Today I realize the seed within me, the love that exists, and the words of Jesus. This is our faith. 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 at Essential Hospice, Webster, Texas, and is an ordained Christian Church (Disciples of Christ) pastor. Archives
August 2022
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