 So we fix our eyes not on what is seen, but on what is unseen, since what is seen is temporary, but what is unseen is eternal. ~ 2 Corinthians 4:18 I have grown to have an appreciation for times when I have struggled with my faith. While not during the time of the struggle, but afterwards, when I realize that I have changed, or grown, because of the experience. Growing in faith means that we have a new appreciation for, or understanding of, who God is to us in our life. Taking a "leap of faith," means that we decide to go beyond the experience and trust that God will be there for us when we land.
Sometimes the leap, or for some, the crawl of faith, seems to be impossible. Taking such steps with our faith requires us to walk with everything we have experienced. These steps often include our joys, loves, hurts, and wounds. Claiming our journey can take us to places we could never have imagined. Recognizing the One who is leading us, can have powerful results. Years ago while still a seminarian, one of the first patients I encountered in the ER was a forty-seven year old man who had a massive heart attack. As the staff worked to save the man's life, the doctor stepped out of the room and asked me to go and talk to the family and to, "prepare them for the worst." As I entered one of the family waiting rooms near the ER, I met the man's wife. As I introduced myself she said, "If you've come in here to tell me that my husband is going to die, then you need to turn around and walk out of here. You cannot box in my God." I was shocked by her words, and I just remember praying with her and her family that God would perform a miracle for the man. The man eventually went to the ICU and underwent surgery. For several weeks he remained on a ventilator with little to no response to treatment. I then remember being paged to the patient's room nearly a month later, and was welcomed by the wife, with her husband, wide awake and was able to shake my hand. "You're the one who has taught this chaplain about faith," she said. I couldn't have agreed more. Leaps of faith, and moments of discernment, teach us so much about our faith and our relationship with God. While it may not take a life-changing encounter to understand where our faith may lie, we are given the opportunity each day to "believe in things we cannot see." Stay in God's grip! G. Todd Williams (c) 2020  Though the doors were locked, Jesus came and stood among them and said, "Peace be with you!" Then he said to Thomas, "Put your finger here; see my hands. Reach out your hand and put it into my side. Stop doubting and believe." Thomas said to him, "My Lord and my God!" ~ John 20:26 - 28 One thing that the current situation of the world is teaching us is that waiting is not popular. In fact, I have seen more people share their feelings about how waiting is actually a "waste of time."
Perhaps this opportunity is teaching us that our culture dictates the way in which we should live. "Get going! Do something! Show you are able to make a difference! Don't just sit there and wait!" I'm learning that for many, waiting is an awful desert between where they are and where they want to be. And people simply do not like such a place! I am reminded that times of "waiting" is found throughout the Bible. So often I hear people share about "God's timing," when actually it is a lesson about learning how to wait. As a patient shared with me last year, "Patience is learning how to live within God's timing." So often I meet people who still are looking at "Bucket Lists," and wondering, "what else can I still do?" For many it seems that the only way to discover worth is by "doing," something. Ultimately we all will find ourselves waiting at some point in our life. In many ways, it is an invitation to serve as a reminder that our vocation as human beings is not to fill our lives with "things," but that our actions should be more about our faith. Together we are all waiting. Together we are waiting, not so much to see what the next season will look like, but waiting for our new way of life to become visible. While we wait, we remember to stay in God's grip! G. Todd Williams (c) 2020  "Be strong and courageous; do not be frightened or dismayed, for the Lord your God is with you wherever you go." ~ Joshua 1:9 This morning as I sat and drank my coffee, listening to our pond, and looking at the flowers around, I suddenly realized that this planter had invited me on a journey.
It's hard to believe that forty-seven years ago, while visiting my grandparents one summer after they had retired, that my sister and I each had a ceramic project with our grandmother. I remember deciding upon this piece. It was white when I first started with it. I remember taking a tool and etching lines into the sides of it, slowly wetting the tool, and scraping. I remember it seeming to "take forever." My hands became white from the dust, and I can still feel the "chalkiness," of the dust. My hands quickly became dry from the plaster. Once I had the lines as I wanted them, it was time to decide on the color. I remember painting this piece, and how it turned a light yellow-green. The instructor "promised," that it would look "completely different," once it was fired in the the kiln. I placed it on the shelf to be fired that night, and took one last look before I left. I just remember thinking, "This will never be the colors I wanted." A few days went by and we returned to the workshop where the piece was sitting on a shelf. I didn't recognize it! It was better than I had hoped, and I just remember how happy I was. "I told you it would be the colors you wanted," the instructor reminded. At the end of the summer, I gave the pot to my mother, who then planted the first of many plants that would grow from the pot. It initially hung in a macrame holder, and later, sat on the top of a bookcase. A few years ago I noticed it on my sister's patio one weekend while I was house-sitting for her, and I brought it home with me. I remember laughing when my sister said, "You took my plant!" My response, "Well, you have my pot!" Just one of those family moments where you just have to laugh. Over the last few years it has begun to develop a crack in it. I suppose, like all things, it also is aging. For me, it is representative of a childhood memory, but it also is a vessel of great worth. It holds memories of that summer, the years it has gone from one person to the next, and the seasons of plants it has held. Christ reminds us to "remember" when we lift bread and drink from the cup. We are invited to take and hold that which is known to us, and to allow us to see it become something more. We are also like this. We are vessels, being held by God, where we are lifted up as signs of hope for others. We are invited to share what we carry with others, as well as, protect sacred trusts. Being that vessel for others, reminds us that our life, is unique with it's own sorrows and joys. Each of us are vessels, uniquely created. We become vessels that listen in silence to truth, as we speak in trust with friends about the ways that we want to grow. As vessels, we follow freely and courageously God's calling and remain faithful on the path that is ours. In many ways, we are invited to be vessels, that when emptied to the bottom, are once again ready to be filled over and over. I'm so thankful that we are vessels who remain in God's grip! G. Todd Williams (c) 2020  On the road to Emmaus this morning. I always use this painting that my grandmother painted for this Sunday as part of the illustration for worship.
My grandmother had stopped painting to raise a family and then serve as an amazing presence in my life and my sister's. I'm so grateful she had begun painting again before she discovered she had cancer and died shortly afterwards. I love the fact the one of the very first paintings she painted had to deal with Jesus and the resurrection. More than that, it had to deal with Jesus returning to a familiar dusty road with two of his followers who simply didn't recognize him. My grandmother returned to familiar brushes and techniques, but would she remember how they all could be used? This week I reconnected with my grandmother's youngest sister. I had not spoken to her in over thirty years. Just as soon as I said, "Aunt Margie, it's Margaret and Warren's grandson, Todd," a familiar, but aged voice responded, "Why Todd, how are you?" She is now ninety-two years old and has outlived all of her siblings. She and my grandmother were so close to one another, and my grandmother's death in 1979 was so difficult for her. As we talked, it was like we were two people walking on the road to Emmaus, with the great cloud of witnesses that walk with us each day, making their presence known. Our shared experiences of picnics and traveling together when I was a child, as well as, spending time with them at the Dairy Queen they owned in Eureka Springs, just made us realize our past was once again alive and walking with our words. We laughed when we both shared of, "getting older," and she was so happy to hear of my sister and I, and our own grandchildren. She responded, and I could hear the delight in her expressions of happiness for all she was hearing. As I hung up the phone she told me, "I just never thought I would be talking to you today. What a wonderful surprise." I look at this painting and realize her words are the words these two travellers must have felt at the end of the day when Jesus breaks bread with them and they realize that it is Jesus. This week has been a living reminder of what we will encounter once we reach heaven of the sharing, and revealing moments of not living with the great cloud of witnesses, but being part of them. Of what it will mean to suddenly be among all of those whom I've walked dusty roads and sat next to in pews. I will be with the countless number of people that I have been present with as they lay dying, and to be present with the One who made it all possible. This week the road to Emmaus has been my journey, and continues to yours as well. Stay in God's grip! G. Todd Williams (c) 2020  Now an angel of the Lord said to Philip, "Go south to the road -- the desert road -- that goes down from Jerusalem to Gaza." ~ Acts 8:26 Ten years ago I didn't have the faintest idea then I would end up where I am now. It is a reminder that being "in control of my life," is simply an illusion.
While I am busy deciding what I need, what I will do next, what I want to accomplish in my life, I become oblivious to the gentle movements of God's Spirit within me. In many ways, it is leading me in directions that are often different than my own. I am reminded that it requires silence and having peace within to acknowledge these movements. I have grown to realize that God does not shout, scream or push! The Spirit of God may have entered the disciples with the rush of the wind, and a number of ways that brought about transformation. No, I am reminded that God's Spirit is more like the soft and gentle small voice that is like morning light pouring over grass damp from dew. It is like the small brook that then becomes a stream, a river... then ocean. We all are being invited to make this journey. One that is not ours, but is. It is God's love for us. Stay in God's grip! G. Todd Williams (c) 2020  He is not here; he has risen, just as he said. Come and see the place where he lay. ~ Matthew 28:6 I woke up early this morning, and started responding to emails about 5:30 am. Not my normal habit to start work before I have my time to write and reflect, and especially that first cup of coffee, but the need out-weighed the want.
I hung up the phone with a coworker, responded to one more email, and then ventured out into the back yard with our two dogs. The sun was just illuminating the morning shadows, where the light overwhelms spaces and I watched as shadows became rays of light along our back fence. A gate that leads to a small lake behind our home drew my attention. I noticed a small image of "something," between the gate and the fence. Just above the gate lock I noticed a monarch chrysalis and I found myself face-to-face once again with the resurrection story. The story of Jesus, inside a tomb, protected by a large stone, with something amazing about to happen. The gate serves no purpose for the chrysalis, except to maybe protect it from God's amazing miracle. Perhaps in the same way that the stone protected Jesus so that the resurrection could be realized. So often we see things like doors, gates, and even the stone of a tomb, as things that are symbolic of separation, pain, or disappointments, when in actuality, they are often used as instruments to protect us, or prepare us for something different. About now we could all use the reminder of the resurrection. As I read of friends remaining home for another month, and that our need to distance ourselves from one another must continue, I can't help but look at this image this morning and realize that we are still okay. Isolated, but not alone. Distant, but not separate. Empty, but full. The resurrection remains the most amazing story of isolation. It is necessary for the "Hallelujahs" that followed. The words "He is risen!" cannot be declared unless there was the time in the tomb. God did not forget about Jesus, just as God has not forgotten about you. Stay in God's grip! G. Todd Williams (c) 2020  "Yet, O Lord, you are our Father. We are the clay, you are the potter; we are all the work of your hand." ~ Isaiah 64: 8 In his book, "Making All Things New," Henri Nouwen shares, “Our urge to be set free from this isolation can become so strong that it bursts forth in violence. Then our need for an intimate relationship—for a friend, a lover, or an appreciative community—turns into a desperate grabbing for anyone who offers some immediate satisfaction, some release of tension, or some temporary feeling of at-oneness. Then our need for each other degenerates into a dangerous aggression that causes much harm and only intensifies our feelings of loneliness.”
I don't know about you, but I've seen some interesting ways that people have begun "bursting forth," in order to escape the isolation that many of us have entered over the past month. Some of which has been nothing but disappointment and pain about how society seems to care for one another without any regard for safety. I get it. A common punishment for me growing up was being grounded to my room. As someone who liked to write and draw, these "punishments," were a welcomed opportunity to do the things I loved to do. It wasn't that I was a bad child, who decided to make poor choices that deserved punishment. Having had a mother that is an alcoholic, and a stepfather that was far from being a positive role model, in many ways, the time I spent in isolation provided me with the space that I needed. In many ways, the punishment was a form of grace for what I might have witnessed if I had been present with the rest of my family. In many ways being "cut off," from daily things, made me more prepared to be present for other things. Something we should all understand at this point is that our isolation is actually providing support for a nurturing community. We are distancing ourselves to remain healthy. Someone recently shared with me, "We isolate now so that when we gather again, no one is missing." The paralyzing sense of separation at this point is what we all are struggling with. I miss time with my friends, laughing over dinner and drinks, the ability to go somewhere without a mask. I am tired of news reports that exploit the antics of some, while there is a greater number of people who are working hard to make sure that people get the care they need through heroic measures. One thing that this time in isolation and distancing has taught many of us is that we were all way too busy! We have to say that the only thing we remember of our recent past is that we were very busy, that everything seemed very urgent, and that we could hardly get it all done. What we were doing we have forgotten. The past no longer carries us to the future; without the promise that things will ever "be the same again." The thing to remember at this point is that God remains faithful. In our "coming and going," and how we enter our time, not isolated, but in being prepared to enter a world that has changed. It will be okay. Stay in God's grip! G. Todd Williams (c) 2020  When he had received the drink, Jesus said, “It is finished.” With that, he bowed his head and gave up his spirit. ~ John 19:30 Lately I seem to be having moments where I feel both empty and full. Words that draw opposite meanings, but in the spiritual life, they simply are not. In fact, in the spiritual life, these words are used to invite us into a deeper understanding of who God is.
We must become empty in order to fill our lives in the fullness of life from God. When I think of Jesus on the cross, these two words are used to describe the experience. At the time that Jesus declares, "It is finished," we experience both the emptiness and complete fullness of Jesus. In many ways, Jesus is declaring, "It is fulfilled!" I am reminded that Jesus was lifted up on the cross, and was also lifted into the resurrection. Jesus had emptied himself in the lowliness of the manger, and was filled in his raising up from the dead. Each day we continue to be asked to empty ourselves and to be filled over and over again. Stay in God's grip! G. Todd Williams (c) 2020  When [Jesus] saw the crowds, he had compassion on them, because they were harassed and helpless, like sheep without a shepherd. ~ Matthew 9:36 One thing we are learning through this time of isolation and distancing, is that we may have discovered, what we might consider, weaknesses. I recently shared that I suffer from anxiety. This is not good when you are being called to help others in the midst of a pandemic.
I literally experienced a panic attack while sitting in my car about a month ago just before I was being asked to go into an ICU to visit with a patient coming onto hospice with his family. I did not know what to expect, and it was the first time that I knew I was entering an environment where I could potentially be exposed to the virus that we knew much less about than we do now. As I gathered my things to make the visit, I suddenly couldn't breathe and I felt pressure on my chest. I just remember thinking, "If I don't do this, then I probably have to quit my job." It was so paralyzing, and I just remember sitting in my car and praying, "God, you know how I am feeling right now. I need your help to have peace. I need you to carry this for me, because right now I'm feeling pretty weak." There was not some great epiphany that happened, but I was able to get myself together enough to enter the building and do what I needed to do for work and for the family that I was being called to help. I have to admit, I think that my anxiety got the best of me. I fumbled through the conversation, became "chatty" with the coworker that I was meeting for the first time, and when it was all over, I felt very defeated in many ways. I just remember saying in my mind, "Todd, that was certainly not your 'best self.'" When we are not afraid to confess our own weaknesses, we will be able to work with others in theirs. I don't like it when my weaknesses are very real and present in front of me, but there is something about being able to claim what they are without fear. The Christ who lives in our own weaknesses recognizes the Christ who lives in the weaknesses of others. Just as we are inclined to ignore our own weaknesses, we are inclined to ignore others'. We struggle when we recognize the person in the mirror, who we thought was a stranger, is actually us. We prefer not to see people who struggle because often it reminds us of our own weaknesses. It makes us want to distance ourselves in a way that prevents us from being present for one another in our weakness. By this avoidance, we lose touch with those whom God is manifested to us. But when we have discovered God in our own weaknesses, we will lose our fear of being weak, and find the way to go to them to meet God. Stay in God's grip! G. Todd Williams (c) 2020  “As the Father has loved me, so have I loved you. Now remain in my love.” ~ John 15:9 This morning I attended a virtual meeting of clergy to discuss how we all seem to be "doing" at this point with the current world.
One of the clergy shared, "We may be distanced physically, but we are connected spiritually." Distance is teaching us all something about ourselves at this time. I long to be with my friends once again, sitting around a table, sharing in a meal and conversation. I am beginning to realize how God must feel, having children who are distant. I am realizing during this time that God has been trying to find me, to know me, and to love me. The question is not “How am I to find God?” but “How am I to let myself be found by God?” The question is not “How am I to know God?” but “How am I to let myself be known by God?” And, finally, the question is not “How am I to love God?” but “How am I to let myself be loved by God?” God is looking into the distance for me, trying to find me, and longing to bring me home. While we may be distanced from one another at this time, we never lose touch with one another. I'm grateful for a God who continues to bring us together. Stay in God's grip! G. Todd Williams (c) 2020  The woman said to [Jesus], "Sir, give me this water so that I won't get thirsty and have to keep coming here to draw water." ~ John 4:15 Just after Hurricane Katrina hit New Orleans, thousands of people made their way as refugees to Houston. I can remember the preparation that went into opening the Astrodome up so that people would have a place to stay. The iconic structure that's fame to claim as one of the great "Wonders of the World," would soon be home to thousands of people.
I had never been inside this marvel until the night that people started arriving by bus. Many of these people arrived with nothing, except for one another. Women with children, the homeless who had lived on the streets of New Orleans, and every kind of person you could imagine. I remember the smell, the dingy fluorescent lights in hallways that had been silent for years, a few children crying, and the echo of someone yelling out of fear and confusion. This "field of dreams," for a baseball team that had moved on to a new stadium, was now a sea of cots and chaos. No one could have really planned for what was happening. Among some of the arrivals was a group of young people who had been living in a homeless shelter. Because they were minors, without identification, and many of them traveling alone or with a friend, suddenly discovered that they didn't meet the criteria for staying "alone," and were referred to a homeless shelter for youth just blocks from the church I was pastoring at the time. With only about seventy-five beds available, these kids soon were turned away and ended up on our doorstep. I had served this population for a long enough period of time to know that there were predators in the neighborhood that would soon sweep in and take advantage of the circumstances surrounding many of the young people. Our church focused on the needs of these folks, reminding them to never "compromise yourself," and that someone always cared. We were a community where doubts were welcomed, and we embraced the woundedness of those we met. I just remember being overwhelmed by the stories of escape, of flood waters that rose, and how many of these kids swam to safety in the midst of a terrible storm. One of the first girls that I met had been home with her mother. Her mother left their home to check on a family friend and never returned. I remember the girl telling me how she "stayed in the home," until the water reached the "light hanging in the dining room," and then swam out. She never saw her mother again and came to Houston with "hope," that she would be reunited with her. She was on the street, distraught, and one of the girls from our church brought her inside after someone offered her a place to stay until she found her mother. The girl from our church told me who had offered the place, and we both realized it was a man often linked to sex-trafficking on the street. The girl from New Orleans shared she had an aunt that lived in Shreveport. She had only visited the aunt once when their grandmother died. The girl struggled to remember her aunt's last name, but could remember that the church was a "Baptist Church." Nothing like discovering two pages of Baptist Churches in Shreveport and needing to find one that might know her aunt. I split the list with a friend and we began calling the churches. By the grace of God, we discovered the church on the third call, and within a few hours, had spoken to the aunt. I pulled out my credit card and bought a bus ticket for the girl and we got her on a bus by five pm that evening. The girl and I talked as I drove her to the bus stop, and she asked me, "Do you think that God really loves me? Look at what happened to me?" I couldn't help but think of all that the girl had encountered, and we talked about all the things that brought her to the doorstep of our church. I couldn't help but note of all the ways that God loved her. She hugged me as she turned to get on the bus. I handed her a bag with a sandwich, some chips and an apple with something to drink, and reminded her not to talk to strangers. She grinned, and said, "Don't worry. You're the only stranger I will talk to." About two weeks later I received a call from the girl, letting me know that her mother had been found. Apparently her mother had drowned at the house of the friend she had gone to check on. My heart sank for the girl. She thanked me for having helped her, and I couldn't help but cry after I hung up the phone. I thought about how she questioned God's love, and embraced all the ways that this love was demonstrated to her. Each of us struggle at times and ask God, "Do you love me? Do you really love me?" Along with that question comes all the voices of this world who add to this by asking, "If?" The world tells me that God loves me, "If I 'do this,' 'act like,' or 'believe this.'" There are endless “ifs” hidden in the world’s love. These “ifs” enslave us, since it is impossible to respond adequately to all of them. The world’s love is and always will be conditional. As long as any of us continue to look for love in a world full of conditions, we will continue to be caught in an endless cycle that the world creates of trying, failing, and trying again. We are called to be reminded that the will of God will never lead us to a place where God's love and grace won't sustain us. Each of us are loved unconditionally. Stay in God's grip! G. Todd Williams (c) 2020  A furious squall came up, and the waves broke over the boat, so that it was nearly swamped. Jesus was in the stern, sleeping on a cushion. They woke him and said to him, "Don't you care if we drown?" He got up, rebuked the wind and said to the waves, "Quiet! Be still!" Then the wind died down and it was completely calm. He said to them, "Why are you so afraid? Do you still have no faith?" ~ Mark 4: 37-40 This afternoon I spent time with a lovely woman who suffers from dementia who watches the news throughout the entire day, while asking the same set of questions that she asks every time that I visit her. Today there was a moment of clarity and she looked at me and said, "I bet you get tired of me asking you the same questions all the time? I am tired of asking them, but I just can't stop."
She then returned to the baseline I am used to and she began again. Sometimes I have to ask if God listens to us over and over and begins to wonder, "Here comes those questions again, when will he ever stop?" I've learned over the years to be especially careful about what I pray for. What I haven't learned is asking God questions that I already know the answer to. You know what I am referring to. The times that we ask for blessings when we don't recognize the blessing before us. The times that we hope to conquer knowledge, try to prove a point, grow in wisdom, or need to have a "sign." When we ponder the answers before asking our questions, we may discover that we need less time and energy for our questions. Perhaps we already have the information. Perhaps we don't need to show that someone is wrong. For many questions we may learn that we already have the answers, at least if we listen carefully to our own hearts. For all the times that we "ponder," let us allow God to respond before we move on to our next question. Stay in God's grip! G. Todd Williams (c) 2020  “The body that is sown is perishable, it is raised imperishable; it is sown in dishonor, it is raised in glory; it is sown in weakness, it is raised in power; it is sown a natural body, it is raised a spiritual body.” ~ 1 Corinthians 15:42-44 It's the second morning since the resurrection of Jesus occurred. By now the entire community is talking about this "man from Nazareth," "Mary's son," and the "man who rode in on a colt," who was chosen to be crucified and killed by the community and is now missing from his tomb.
Jesus has appeared to several folks by this time, and the disciples are starting to live with the fact that Jesus has been resurrected from the dead. But one thing that they, and even us today, realize, is that the resurrection simply does not solve our problems. It doesn't solve the issues we face each day, or eliminate our own dying and death. This actually makes me begin to wonder what exactly the Kingdom of God is all about, and how is the resurrection is bringing us closer to this place? The disciples are still faced with daily struggles. The happy ending to their journey has not appeared, nor is there still some "big surprise," ahead of them. No, the resurrection is the expression of God's faithfulness to Jesus, and a demonstration of God's power. In the resurrected Jesus, I still hear God assuring that Jesus is "beloved," and that the love of God is "everlasting." The greatest lesson is not that the resurrection solves everyone's problems. No, the resurrection is the reminder that everything that belongs to God is everlasting unto eternity. What belongs to God will never get lost. The resurrection doesn’t answer any of our curious questions about life after death, such as: What will heaven look like? How will it be? But it does reveal to us that, indeed, love is stronger than death. One of the greatest things that the resurrection does teach us is that we are being asked to leave all our questions and experiences behind, and to simply trust. Stay in God's grip! G. Todd Williams (c) 2020  Now that same day two of them were going to a village called Emmaus, about seven miles from Jerusalem. They were talking with each other about everything that had happened. As they talked and discussed these things with each other, Jesus himself came up and walked along with them; but they were kept from recognizing him. ~ Luke 24:13 - 16 This morning I got ready to go and visit a few hospice patients. As I gathered my arsonal of alcohol wipes, masks, and all the items I am now required to have with me during these face to face visits, I took a moment, looked in the mirror, and realized that I was the only person who might actually "see" my face today.
I have become a "faceless visitor" to my patients. The hand-holding and hug that I once could offer to patients and their families, has now been replaced by distance and words without action. It's one thing to go and visit the dying, it's another to walk into a stranger's home filled with the unknowns of this pandemic. Even before the pandemic, I ministered to the sick, and will continue to sit with those who are dying after this virus subsides, whenever that day comes. Each day I watch as our nurses and doctors address symptoms, and focus on keeping people "comfortable." What I am learning is that chaplains everywhere are being asked to "take care of the rest." I am reminded that in the world B. C. "Before COVID," I didn't even think twice about being at the bedside, holding the hands of those in the room, singing, crying, hugging them, or offering them the Lord's supper. All of this has changed. I now ask that only "one or two persons" be present during my visit, and inquire if anyone has traveled recently, had a temperature or cough, or been in the hospital? I wear one of two types of masks, depending on the acuity and answers to the questions I have asked, and often stand away from the patient and their family during my entire visit. I keep a lawn chair in my car for "patio visits," when the risk is too great. My words have now become the substitute for hugs and hand-holding. All my skills that I once utilized to watch body language, are now spent listening for pauses and "swallows," when a person tries to tell me how they are doing over the telephone when the patient is in a facility that is no longer allowing for any "outside" visitors. In the midst of all of this, the work I do remains essentially the same. I am to facilitate a connection between patient and family, our team and the patient, and our patients to God. In nearly twenty-five years of ministry, I have never just "phoned in" my vocation. I have always been one to "show up," and to be present. I think it's interesting that this morning as I put my mask on to visit my first patient I was drawn to remember Jesus appearing to folks on the the road to Emmaus. He walked and listened to the couple describe the sadness and loss of Jesus. He did not lead them to know it was him that they were talking about. He just was simply present. It wasn't until that night when they began to have supper, and in the breaking of the bread, that they suddenly realized it was the resurrected Jesus and he then disappeared. They ask one another how they "knew" it was him, but yet, did not recognize him. I am reminded that I am not just showing up wearing a mask. For any of us, we can always be the living presence of the resurrected Christ. In our spirit, our words, and even when we wear a mask. While I may wear a mask, I am seeing and hearing just as much from the staff that I work with as the patients that I have been called to serve. Each day there is "something new." We all know something about human suffering about now, and our need for one another. The resurrection of Jesus walking on the road was more than just a stroll. It was the reminder to us to seek Jesus in unexpected moments. In unexpected encounters. In the stranger that we just met, even when it's only their eyes that we can see. Stay in God's grip! G. Todd Williams (c) 2020  Jesus said to her, “I am the resurrection and the life. Whoever believes in me, though he die, yet shall he live,” ~ John 11:25 Easter, for me doesn't happen just one day out of the year. I am reminded that each day we are to roll away large stones that prevent us from living the life that Jesus has called us to live.
After the resurrection Jesus spent time with his friends, in small, important and ordinary ways. His wounds were visible in his risen body. A reminder that we can still live with the memory of our wounds, and be with those who welcome us, just as we are. The resurrection calls attention to us that our wounds are not taken away, but that they become the visible sources of hope for others. As we announce, "He is Risen!" this morning, may the stones that prevent you from living your life, and the wounds that you have, emerge into the light! Stay in God's grip! G. Todd Williams (c) 2020 |
AuthorRev. G. Todd Williams is the author of the book, "Remember Me When..." and is a former hospice chaplain and pastor. Archives
February 2024
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