 So, as those who have been chosen of God, holy and beloved, put on a heart of compassion, kindness, humility, gentleness and patience. ~ Colossian 3:12 I think about now we all need to hear the voice that calls us, "Beloved." Paul reminds us that God will say, "Those who were not my people I will call ‘my people,' and her who was not beloved I will call ‘beloved.’” (Romans 9:25)
While we seek to be one in community, I am reminded that we must first be one with the One who says, "You are my Beloved. I want to be with you." It is the same reason that Jesus reminds us to love one another as I have loved you. It must begin with our own personal relationship and understanding of being the "Beloved," in order for us to arrive at a place where we recognize this in one another. Years ago there was a time when I got into an argument with someone very close, and my grandmother, being the great negotiator that she was, made me sit in a chair in front of the person that I had the disagreement with. "Now you two sit here until you give the other person permission to get up," she explained. I remembering staring for what seemed like hours at the person, determined that I was not about to "give in," to such a foolish idea. My grandmother would peek her head around the corner to see how the progress was going. We just sat there. Silent. Staring. I think I remember beginning to hum, and then whistle. My grandmother came back into the room, creating the rule that we could "not sing, hum, or do anything other than talk directly to the other person." AND we were not allowed to touch one another as well. (She was good. She knew all the tricks. I later learned that she herself had to undergo such punishments as a child.) I watched as the clock passed an hour, and for a child, this was clearly a "whole day." We were not tasked with apologizing, but that we were to just give the other person permission to "get up." Another hour went by and it then became more about who had greater strength. The other person finally said, "Okay, Todd, if you tell me that I can get up, then I will tell you that you can get up." "How will I know that you will let me up?" I asked. "You can trust me," was the reply. Of course I then said, "You tell me first, and then I will let you up." This went on for another twenty minutes. The afternoon was quickly ending, and any chance of going out to play was escaping. I finally gave in and said, "You can get up." Within just a few moments, the person was up out of the chair, and then darted from the room. I was trapped. I had not been given permission to get up, and my grandmother who was in the adjoining room had witnessed all that had occured. I cried out, "That's not fair! Where is my permission!" I felt betrayed, and defeated, as well as, mad. My grandmother came in and sat with me. I'm pretty sure I had started to cry at this point, and I just remember her saying to me, "But you were the one who forgave first." In many ways, I was being told, "Beloved, because you forgave first, you understand me better." She had me rise to my feet, gave me a hug, and then invited me into the kitchen where she was making a cake. She gave me a beater covered in icing and I remember thinking, "this is what I got for being the first to say 'get up.'" I have tried, and failed often, to practice this very thing with others. Finding many times that those I disagree with aren't even willing to sit across for me, and I still carry that feeling of offering forgiveness and not being forgiven in return. In many ways, being left to ourselves is an invitation. It is the invitation to let go of other ways. The voice that calls us, "Beloved," is the voice that hears our cries when we are hurt. When we have hurt one another, and when we simply can't do anything but sit and stare at our neighbor. It is the invitation to take a moment, to gather ourselves, and to refocus our journey. Each of us, are "Beloved." Stay in God's grip! G. Todd Williams (c) 2020  "God sent his Son into the world, not to condemn the world, but to save the world." ~ John 3:17 Pendulums are interesting things. As a child I remember going to the Indiana State Museum in Indianapolis and watching a pendulum freely swing in the middle of a large rotunda. Attached to the top of the dome, I would stand and watch as it freely flowed, and then knocked down pins that were set up in a circular pattern on the floor to demonstrate how the earth continued to rotate, as the pendulum moved back and forth.
Pendulums also mark change. In society, the "swinging of" a pendulum from one point to the next, often marks societal changes or events. In the history of Jesus, some might point to Jesus turning the tables over in the Temple as a time when the pendulum was pushed to it's absolute greatest point, where it had no further place to go, unless there was change. For some, this view of Jesus makes them uncomfortable. For others, they see him taking the reins of justice and declaring a need for change. For a few, they don't want to believe that Jesus ever got angry. Some say, "It doesn't effect me, why should it bother me when I read it?" And then there are some that sit back and simply say, "It's just part of God's plan." There is a pendulum swinging in the world right now that seems to be pushed to the farthest extent, and the very material that keeps the pendulum from flying beyond it's pattern seems to be fraying. Jesus reminds us that he came into the world, "Not to condemn the world, but to save the world." Pendulums must swing, and people must change. I have never been an advocate for violence, and I have to admit, I struggle at times not to want to be vengeful when someone has done harm to me or those I love. The Holy Spirit is our own personal pendulum within us that moves us. It doesn't protect us from our feelings, but will often prevent us from going in a direction that will cause us and others harm. I guess about now I am struggling with both the personal and communal pendulum when I see the events that are taking place in our world right now. I know that I am uneasy about seeing people being murdered, businesses being burned, and brothers and sisters with their own pendulums being pushed to the limit. I have prayed and cried. I have responded in anger, and compassion. I have celebrated Jesus turning the tables over, revealing injustices, while realizing the pain inflicted. Pendulums are interesting. Pendulums always seem to know where the center is, and yet, they continue to search for the greatest distance they can travel without breaking that which holds them in place. We seem know a lot about this feeling about now. Stay in God's grip! G. Todd Williams (c) 2020  Then he will answer them, saying, "Truly, I say to you, as you did not do it to one of the least of these, you did not do it to me." ~ Matthew 25:45 I find that I am without words when it comes to the death of another unarmed black man on the streets of our country. There is something that strikes at the heart of who we are as children of God when we fail to recognize the holy that exists within each of us. Time and time again, we turn to the words of Jesus, and are reminded, "Whatever you have done to the least of these, you have done to me." (Matthew 25:40)
I am drawn to join the crowd who asked, "When did we see you, Lord?" This morning I struggle to remove the eyes I have been born with and seek to understand how one of God's children could be held to the ground, with onlookers asking that he be set free, and that nothing was done. A man dies, and we still look and ask ourselves, "When did I see you, Lord?" My soul wants to scream as I consider the road I wish this rage to take, but yet, I stop at the roadside with the crowd that still is asking, "When did I see you, Lord?" I suddenly recognize the signposts of our failed humanity, and our inability to honor this request that we, "Love one another." I am foolish enough to argue with those who do not recognize that we are all made in the image of God. I take the bait, and I loudly ask, "When did I see you, Lord?" Once again, I join Peter in the shadows, declaring, "No, I don't know this man," as the cock has crowed for the hundredth time as another person dies. "When did I see you, Lord?" I am reminded that in our own anguish, we ignite terrible unrest, that disturbs our very soul. There is a morbid darkness that seems to have paralyzed us, and we must find a way to break out of this cycle that continues to block our view of what it is that God wants from us. My prayer this morning is for us to open our eyes. For us to no longer ask, "When did I see you, Lord?" To recognize the naked, poor, and the stranger. That we suddenly have an understanding that we are all God's children. That we be profiled as followers of Jesus, rather than judged by eyes that only see what we have been taught to see. "When did I see you, Lord?" I saw you as an unarmed black man, on the streets of Minneapolis, asking for a chance to catch your breath, while others watched. You are crucified over and over, and we watch. We still taunt you, and declare, "If you are God, then come down from there." You do not work that way. We ask, "Why have you abandoned us?" You have not. You are still there. Being beaten and bruised, and somehow still finding words to say, "Forgive them for they know not what they are doing." I see you, Lord. Stay in God's grip! G. Todd Williams (c) 2020  Therefore, confess your sins to one another and pray for one another, that you may be healed. The prayer of a righteous person has great power as it is working. ~ James 5:16 I seem to be emotional these days. In my visits with patients and their families, I have a number of things shared with me. End of life, and the process of dying, can be filled with many moments where efforts of reconciliation are extended, difficult conversations are had, and sometimes, dark family secrets come to light.
Years ago a man lay dying and as we sat and shared, he told me about killing another man. I listened as the man shared of "being drunk," with a friend and "playing," along a set of railroad tracks. "Nobody knew where we were. I'm not sure even we knew where we were." The two had grown up together and were "as close as brothers." They were crossing a bridge when a disagreement erupted, and they began to struggle with one another. "It's not like we hadn't had a fight or two before. We knew each other our whole lives. It wasn't really a fight. We just pushed each other, but then I punched him and he..." The man paused and shared of the friend falling into the darkness below. "It was just quiet. I don't even remember any sounds. I tried to get down there, but it was too steep and I was too drunk. I just went home." A few days would go by and the man would be reported missing, and then a few days later, his body was discovered. The toxicology report would show that he was drunk and it was ruled accidental. The man would never share of what happened that night until he lay dying in a hospital bed a few decades later. He gave me the name of the man and the town they lived in and asked that I let his family know what happened and that he was sorry. A number of things happened after that, and I remember trying to locate the parents of the man who had fallen to his death. They had already both died, but I was able to find the man's sister and share the story of what happened to her brother on the night he died. While talking with another colleague about something that was shared with me this past week, I thought of this man again, and that there are some of us who have been entrusted to be the gatherer of peoples' stories. I remember then, and now, of trying to remain a non-judgemental presence. Of someone who offers a space to listen, and to try to make sense of, "what next." I am reminded that our lives can be, and often are, messy. Jesus offers love. There is nothing that I love about some of these stories, but being the person who hears the story, has to a place of sacredness. Moses is told to "take off your sandals, the ground you walk is holy." Knowing that we are made from the ground, with the breath of God blown into us, we are walking and breathing vessels of that same holy ground. Embraced by a loving God who knows our steps, our decisions, but most of all our hearts. Being able to be bearers of these stories, also is the invitation to allow for Christ to walk with us, and to carry these as well. It is about surrendering to the overwhelming presence of grace and mercy. But most of all, the invitation into the most sacred of relationships. Of being one with one another, and with God. Stay in God's grip! G. Todd Williams (c) 2020  "I obey God, so everyone in the world might know that I love God. It is time for us to go now." ~ John 14:31 I am reminded again and again how Jesus lived a life that was small, poor, and simple, instead of using the influence and power that he had. When he did perform miracles, he always seemed to express his love for us, his compassion, and understanding of suffering within humanity.
So often we hear him saying, "Please don't tell others what you saw here today," while attempting to prevent attention being focused on him. I am reminded of the times when he shares, "I have said this, so that you may know what God commands me to do." (John 14:31) As the life of Jesus unfolds, there is something that happens. Jesus begins to fully understand his role. Jesus has been called to live his life, knowing of the impending suffering and death that is to come. It always amazes me when I meet a new hospice patient who shares, "It's a relief to know how much longer I have to live." I realize that there is anxiety about living each day, not knowing what the next moment will bring, or when our final breath will arrive. What becomes increasingly clear in each of our lives, is how God is willing to show God's love for the world, by having deeper encounters in our lives, when we realize our own frailty. Stay in God's grip! G. Todd Williams (c) 2020  "being diligent to preserve the unity of the Spirit in the bond of peace." ~ Ephesian 4:3 This morning during my time of sitting and meditating, I was thinking about the journey all of us seem to be on right now. Whether we realize it or now, we all are travelers on the same pilgrimage. I am reminded that roads lead us to many places, but like any good pilgrimage, our journey is filled with moments where we must stop, renew ourselves, rest, and consider the stranger that we meet along the way.
I've always known that I have an uneasy spirit. I'm not sure if it was the sixth grade teacher who belittled me in front of the class one day, asking me, "Why do you ask so many stupid questions," or the simple fact that I never saw myself as anything other than what I was told about myself. We all have had these encounters in our life where our journey is stopped within the "next step," and we question what the next hill will bring. I suppose it's because there just seems to be so much chaos in the world right now, I recognize our common journey is one of peace. Walking in search of peace will definitely bring nothing but peace! Over the years I have read of people who suddenly have the urge to pull off the road they are traveling and go their own way for the sake of their faith. I have often wondered what it is about spirituality that suddenly discovers the navigational beacon within us, and draws us towards, or back to God? I am drawn to remember the life of Shug Avery in the "Color Purple" who grows up in church, only to take her gift for singing into the back wood "juke joint." She fills her life with encounters that only seem to be filling some kind of void, until one day while singing she sings out, "Say, yes!" and leaves the life she has been living and journeys down the dusty road. With her audience following behind as she declares, "Speak, Lord. Speak my name," she arrives at the altar of the church where her father, the "preacher," finally embraces her and she declares, "See daddy, sinners have soul, too." Our journey for inner peace is not always intentional, but it should be. It's almost as if we have a duty to disarm, disengage from our daily life, and realize that peace still exists. It always exists. It's just masked by everything we pile on top of it! We are to love. To consider the love that we have for ourselves, leaving those who have piled things upon us that we have both believed, accepted, and bought into. We are to name them for what they are as we pull them, layer by layer, off ourselves. Tossing these things aside, we begin to not just feel "lighter," but also embrace a deeper understanding of who we really are. In the loving of ourselves, we become aware of our need to love one another. Every woman, man and child. I don't know about you, but that pile of things in the corner can sometimes look like a mountain, but even that can become a distraction. These are things that distract us. They distract us from the reality of peace. Of love. And who we are. We are all on the same pilgrimage. To discover the peace that always exists. Stay in God's grip! G. Todd Williams (c) 2020  But I will restore you to health and heal your wounds,' declares the LORD, 'because you are called an outcast, Zion for whom no one cares.' ~ Jeremiah 30:17 This morning I was sharing with several coworkers that we all seem to "work through" all kinds of wounds as we care for our patients. Additionally, noting that none of us escape being wounded. All of us are wounded people.
For each of us, we shared how we utilize our wounds in the service of others. When our wounds cease to be a source of weakness, and become a source by which we find strength, we then have found a way to provide care through our woundedness. After Jesus was resurrected, Thomas wants to see Jesus' wounds. While it helped in his belief, the wounds of Jesus serve as a reminder to us that even in our woundedness, we can still be used as part of God's greater plan. As a follower of Jesus, we can allow the experiences that have wounded us to bring healing to others. Years ago I wrote about a wound that I had experienced. The Wounded Person Once there was a wound that was unique, because it was mine. I wore it on the inside and I had lived with it for a long time. I did not realize, but I wanted to be free from this wound but it's ache I could not stop. If I were truthful, I'd say that I had and appreciation for this wound. The more I noticed this wound, the more I became vulnerable to God. Deep within me something greater was being brought out. The wound was apparent, gave way to emerging faith, daring me to reach deeper, and to touch my wound, and to apply healing measures, slowly working it towards the light, where others might see and know my woundedness. One day, without realizing, I reached inside and touched that wound. A grace that I couldn't see flowed through me, and began to fill the place where my wound once lived. "I'm afraid," I cried, claiming wholeness. The wound had left me, and my faith had turned to belief, taking it's place. I have not lost my appreciation for the wound that made it possible for me to know the mercy that I now hold. Stay in God's grip! G. Todd Williams (c) 2020  teaching them to observe all things that I have commanded you; and lo, I am with you always, even to the end of the age.” Amen. ~ Matthew 28:20 I will often write things in my calendar that stand out as "milestones," in my faith or work journey. On this day last year, I wrote this following a visit with one of my hospice patients, "Some of life's most difficult moments happen when you sit with someone who has lost the ability to speak, but remembers how to cry. That has been my morning."
It's amazing how our faith enters in when we seem to have lost who we are. So many times I can begin to pray the "Lord's prayer," with someone who has dementia, who without prompting, joins in at some point. I have sat next to someone who hasn't opened their eyes in days, and begin to sing a familiar hymn, only to realize that the person is humming or mouthing the words as well. While our body and mind struggle to survive and function, our spirit is still alive and doesn't forget. I often will remind families who are watching a loved one die that what we are witnessing is the death of the body, but not that of the soul. We are complex. We are both fragile and resilient at the same time. We are so very special to God. Of course we would be created in a way that we find our way home to God as we take our last breath. A few months ago I sat with a man who was dying. He shared of a heart attack that he had in a very public place. When he opened his eyes, he saw a crowd surrounding him. He shared that he felt that the people were there, not just to watch "some man die." "No," he shared. "They were there, caring for me. He said, "I was a complete stranger, surrounded by people who were trying to save my life. I have to believe that when I open my eyes in heaven for the first time, I will be surrounded by people who are loving me into eternity." His view of life, death and eternity, brought him comfort, and he recognized that his soul would continue on. "Oh yeah, and we get a new body at some point. I'm ready. This one is a disaster!" I love the idea that our soul "never forgets." It is the very thing that helps to bring each of us comfort, even when our mind seems to have forgotten the most simplest of things. Stay in God's grip! G. Todd Williams (c) 2020  "... and you will do well to pay attention to it, as to a light shining in a dark place, until the day dawns and the morning star rises in your hearts." ~ 2 Peter 1:19 We cannot seem to keep ourselves from wanting. Even as I woke up this morning, I found myself, "wanting," Coffee, a desire to have a "normal" Monday again, for the news to bring hope, and for there to be peace.
While hope and peace are things that many of us long for, the "wanting," is something that pulls us in a different direction. I can remember years ago planning a party and then missing a deadline at work because I didn't have my priorities where they needed to be. I disappointed my coworkers, and certainly, made me look unreliable. Like so many things, our "longings," give an insight to others as to what and who we are about. It's funny how through so many times where I have longed for something, that God was longing for me. The real question is, "While I am searching, how do I allow for God to find me?" And when God does find me, how do I stop longing for something more? From the very first moment that God fashioned us from mud, blowing breath into us, we have wanted more. Adam was "lonely," so God created Eve. The two longed for more, and together ate from the tree of knowledge. Over and over, the story plays out, and we want more. It wasn't sufficient for Jesus just to be born and to walk among us. No, he had to be crucified, buried, resurrected, and we still need more. Even as I sit with patients who are dying, so many of them tell me, "I just long for one more day." Our longing for God should guide all the other longings in our life. If not, our bodies, minds, hearts and souls become one another's enemies and our inner lives become chaotic, leading us to both despair and self-destruction. Staying focused on God does not necessarily eradicate our longings, but instead, places them in order so that what we do is done with God beside us. Stay in God's grip! G. Todd Williams (c) 2020  "If you love me, you will keep my commandments." ~ John 14:15 This morning as I pour over my "Sunday Sermon," I am drawn to the realization that when Jesus shares, "If you love me," it is the reminder that it is still an invitation.
For all of us, one cannot fall in love in the abstract. Love comes through the encounter with another person. The same is true for faith. If faith is a relationship with the living Christ and the living God who sent him, then faith can only come through an encounter with them. And the Spirit is the one who makes this presence known. Jesus is reminding us that the Spirit is not someone coming in to "replace" Jesus. No, the Spirit is the extension of Jesus. The Spirit encapsulates the story of Jesus. His life, ministry, death and resurrection and brings it to us so that we can have the relationship with Jesus. "You have not seen, but believe," is at the root of our faith, but to "have not seen, but encountered the Spirit and that helps me to believe," takes on an entirely different way of talking about our faith and belief in Jesus. Each of us are invited to love Jesus. To encounter the Spirit, so that the relationship can begin, develop and to grow. I guess it's more important than ever to then realize that it is so important that we remain in God's grip! G. Todd Williams (c) 2020  But he answered, "It is written: 'One does not live by bread alone, but by every word that comes from the mouth of God.'" ~ Matthew 4:4 I woke up early this morning to the sound of another round of storms coming through our area. The two-hour commute home from the city yesterday after spending all afternoon with one of my hospice patients and his family, just wore me out. I think the term floating around in my head is, "exhausted," but I am up, and about to go into my first zoom meeting of the day.
I'm not sure if any of us really "know" how to feel about now. We struggle with mixed messages about whether to go out into public or not? To wear a mask, or not? Is it safe, or not? Suddenly the question, "What would Jesus do?" comes to mind, and I am still waiting on the answer. There is no Biblical reference, until I begin to remember times of wandering in the desert for 40 years, years in exile, words that are laments, and Jesus in the tomb. Asking ourselves, "Who am I and what am I to do?" I am reminded that Biblical implications begin with the movement of the spirit, the doubting of a disciple, and moments of solitude. That numbness is the encounter with grief, loss, and the unknown. And then I sit in silence and invite grace, peace, and the promise that things, "will get better." About now, I think we are all beginning to wake up and wonder, "Isn't it about time to have this all behind us?" Only to answer, "But then what is next?" We are living in uncertainty that cannot be easily framed and placed on the wall for all to see. It is about exploring, praying, and creating disciplines that will keep not just our physical selves healthy, but will promote both emotional well-being and mindfulness for others. It's no longer asking, "What would Jesus do?" It is God telling us, "Remind them of who I am!" In that moment, I encounter an overwhelming feeling that reminds me that I am still living. You and I are still seekers on a journey, and that eternity should always be the goal. Stay in God's grip! G. Todd Williams (c) 2020  "Cast your cares on the LORD and he will sustain you; he will never let the righteous be shaken" ~ Psalm 55:22 I woke up this morning and realized that there is this lingering feeling within. I'm not sure if it is because we are beginning our third month of being confined, or if it's the new reality of life that seems to be making itself known. Overall, it is a tension that exists. I think I am having a better understanding of what it means to be of the world but not in the world. Of what it means to "contemplate," and to wander, spiritually.
As a child, I remember a friend of our family who had built a fallout shelter in his back yard. Of course the Cold War was still something that was a reality for us. I can still remember drills where we would find ourselves huddled under our desks in the event of a strike. Having lived through this new period of isolation, I realize that I would not have survived the apocalyptic-designed space that was placed under the ground in the event of a nuclear attack. I can honestly say, "I would not have survived." I realize that I would do better as someone who would wander the desert as a contemplative spiritualist before locking myself away under the ground to avoid nuclear fallout. Tension, yes. I am discovering that in this time of change, we are all being invited to take a psychological journey in holiness that seems to not really have a goal in sight. While I have to continually remind myself that earth is not my home, I cannot help but realize that earth is exactly where I am! I am drawn to the lives of the Disciples who suddenly find they are still living among earthly ideas after having walked with both the manifestation of God in Jesus and the resurrected Christ. I think I am beginning to understand the tension that must have existed in their life. Not that a pandemic forced them into isolation, but having watched Jesus die certainly changed them. To be told by John the Baptist that the Kingdom of God is at hand, then to meet Jesus, Emmanuel (God with us), and then be told that, "You can do things in my (Jesus') name," from one who had died and rose again, only to fail over and over. The tension had to be real. I think that what we are all learning about now is that tension is a part of what it means to be a follower of Jesus. Without tension, we fail to recognize that miracle. The things that happen that are unexplainable. To practice new spiritual disciplines that remind us that we may feel like we are alone, but we are among many who are encountering the world in the same way. We may feel that there is a gaping abyss between us and our neighbor, we are much closer than we realize. If anything, this time of tension is inviting each of us to reclaim our faith. To pray in different ways, making sure that we lift one another up in prayer, and that our focus is not on the things of this world, but on one another. May the tension that we experience bring us to a new understanding of our relationship with God and how we relate to God in our daily life. Stay in God's grip! G. Todd Williams (c) 2020  “Be still and acknowledge that I am God” ~ Psalm 46:10 Clouds are slowly moving across the heavens this morning, as a light rain continues. Everything is covered with a heaviness, as the air is still. Stillness is a gift. For some, the idea of "stillness," comes with anxiety, while others embrace the opportunity. It has taken me years of learning to be comfortable with myself first, before being able to enter into the stillness that I know embrace when I can.
Stillness for me is the place where I can dwell with God, but also, is the place where I can begin to speak to those who have experienced woundedness. I am reminded that stillness is actually a place where healing can begin to emerge. As a parent, I can remember telling my children, to "hold still," after a fall so that I could assess the wound. I can remember being told to, "sit still and pay attention," as a child. "If you don't sit still..." Without stillness we walk aimlessly. We wander paths. We seem to spiral at times. Stillness is the arrival of the words, "I am here," and welcomed by the response, "So am I." It is in stillness that God becomes our gentle guide through whatever it is that we may be facing. "In the Secret" is a song that I have turned to many times when I have looked for a way to express the stillness that I need. The song begins with these words, "In the secret, in the quiet place. In the stillness You are there. In the secret, in the quiet hour I wait, only for You. Cause, I want to know You more." Stillness is the invitation to simply know God more.... Stay in God's grip! G. Todd Williams (c) 2020  "By wisdom a house is built, and through understanding it is established; through knowledge its rooms are filled with rare and beautiful treasures." ~ Proverbs 24: 3,4 Sometimes I find that I treasure silence. We need silence. We desire silence, but because we are so accustomed to the noise of the world we forget how to seek silence, until we reach a plateau, stop, and listen for the breeze to rustle the leaves.
Our home should be a place where silence may gather itself. It must be a place where it can be greeted and welcomed. Simon and Garfunkel years ago wrote an entire song about the sounds of silence. What does silence sound like to you? So often it is disturbing that our busy lives distracts us from seeking times of silence. I often discover two very disturbing "noises" when I seek the sound of silence. They are "time" and "task." Always convincing myself I don't have the time for such moments and I always seem to have a mountain of things I must attempt to climb. These are two things I find hard to face and to challenge. What are we to do? Jesus says, "Go and learn the meaning of the words: Mercy is what pleases me, not sacrifice" (Matthew 9:13). We shouldn't do that with our focus on time and tasks. We can be merciful toward our own noisy selves and turn these enemies into friends. Stay in God's grip! G. Todd Williams (c) 2020  "Wait for the Lord and He will deliver you." ~ Proverbs 20:22 I can't begin to list just how many hospice patients tell me, "I'm just waiting to die," when I ask them, "How are you doing?"
Life is such an interesting journey. I can remember times when I have been "waiting for the right moment," "couldn't wait any longer," or asking, "how much longer do I have to wait?" Waiting is about giving up our own control, and instead allow for time to step in. One of the things we forget is that while we are "waiting," life is still going on around us. Years ago after suffering a prolonged illness, I discovered that the world seemed to have "run past me," while I was "waiting," for healing to take place. A year later, when I was finally able to return to work, the world just seemed to be running at such a fast pace that it took me months to finally feel as if I was keeping pace. I am always drawn to remember that waiting is practicing hope and letting go of expectations. So much in life we seem to hear the words, "All in God's timing," while building on a foundation of hope that what we are waiting for will be exactly what we need. Psalm 62:5 reminds, "Let all that I am wait quietly before God, for my hope is in God.” The moment is full with possibility. We refuse to think that it’s best if we can control it. We let God do what God will do – avoiding any drama we might otherwise create, while we wait upon what is certain, true, and wonderful. In all this – in our difficult, counter intuitive, radical “waiting project”, we experience more rather than less of what God has for us as we cast aside our useless wishes, and hope in his promises. Jesus suggested that each day we pray “Thy kingdom come. Thy will be done on earth as it is in heaven.” Why then, shouldn’t we expect God to enter the moments and circumstances of each day “on earth” while we wait? Why wouldn’t the moments be full, when we know that God is answering this and so many other prayers of others? Why wouldn’t the moments be full when God's work of redeeming this planet of ours – and its people – continues? I am reminded that even while we wait, life is "going on." The Kingdom Of God is yet to come, but at the same time continues to arrive “in our midst” – on this day, in this place – where I am. And so I wait. 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
|
RSS Feed
