But Ruth replied, "Don't urge me to leave you or to turn back from you. Where you go, I will go, and where you stay I will stay. Your people will be my people and your God my God." ~ Ruth 1:16 So much of what I have experienced this week has reminded me that in order for me to become compassionate to others, I must be willing to become vulnerable and allow for my own wounds to become known.
In our final discussions this week, my cousin John and I talked about what it means to show compassion for someone, rather than pity. He told me, "I don't want people to pity me. I know what my life has been like." In his words he reminded me that in order to be compassionate towards others, we must be willing to open ourselves up to our own pain. Compassion for others means that we are willing to be with those who are suffering, but only once we are willing to become vulnerable as well. While John and I share a family bond, and have a common place to begin, for the stranger that we meet on the street, our ability to recognize them as our brother or sister must mean that we must be willing to be present with them in a vulnerable way. To be able to admit our own woundedness, humanness, and own struggles, creates both a place of honesty, but also transparency and opens up a place where we can be in relationship with others. We become compassionate when we cease to be "other," and when we can allow for others to see us as ourselves and recognize our common threads. My cousin's journey called me to become aware of my own suffering. I was reminded that I cannot respond to someone being lonely, unless I can draw upon my own times of being lonely. I believe it was Henri Nouwen who confessed, "How can I be with the poor, unless I am willing to confess my own poverty?" Having compassion for others means allowing for our own vulnerability, and sharing that vulnerability with others, recognizing that the image that God created each of us in is that of God's. It is in this vulnerability that we learn the greatest lesson. To love ourselves, and to have compassion for others as we become vulnerable. Stay in God's grip! G. Todd Williams (c) 2019 He who dwells in the shelter of the Most High Will abide in the shadow of the Almighty. ~ Psalm 91:1 My cousin John died yesterday afternoon while holding his hand, looking into his beautiful blue eyes, and telling him it was "okay," and, "I love you."
This has been a sacred journey for the two of us. This morning as I was getting ready to leave to go visit my hospice patients, I noticed this image on my dresser. The shadow reaching from the cross over the heart that John's doctor had placed in my hand one day last week. She shared that I could continue to carry the small heart in my pocket, in a way, carrying him with me. As I looked at this image, I sensed that the cross was significant. It was at the cross where Christ died, but also where God was about to provide God's greatest of miracles, the resurrection. The small cross in my bedroom reminds me that the greatest commandment is to love one another as God has loved us. I realized the shadow of the cross was extending over more than just the ceramic heart that was the reminder of John. It was also present for me. The cross for Jesus was now behind him, and John's death had also been realized. For me, I was still facing the cross, knowing that one day I will make the journey as well. The cross reminds me that faith emerges from these moments where we come face to face with our own pain. I look at the cross and suddenly I am befriending my pain, and realizing my own truth. In many ways I realize that I am the living witness of Jesus, and of the last moments of John's life where I am reminded that among faith, hope, and love, that love will always remain the greatest of these things. For now, I stand before the cross, trusting in God's faithfulness. Not one person from the past, present, or future is excluded from the great passage of Jesus from death to eternal life. I am reminded on this day to embrace my grief as Jesus embraced the cross, and as I do, I hear the words of the old hymn, "The cross before me, the world behind me. No turning back, no turning back." Stay in God's grip! G. Todd Williams (c) 2019 “And God is able to make all grace abound to you, so that in all things at all times, having all that you need, you will abound in every good work.” ~ 2 Corinthians 8:8 Waking up this morning for a second time at Houston Hospice where my cousin, John, continues to make his journey home. As I sit with my laptop, I look over the screen and watch him, gently breathing, and comfortable. It was an uneventful night, unlike the night before where he began to transition, having moments of confusion and uncertainty.
It's interesting how our dying seems to remind us that some things are just no longer important, and that as we die, we finally learn to surrender. One of the doctors placed this heart in the palm of my hand, folding my fingers over it, and then having me place it in my pocket, "You will always be able to carry John with you," she shared. I have cried. In all the times that I have encouraged the families of my patients to allow for grief to enter, for me, it has impacted me in ways that I could not imagine, providing for a greater understanding of how our spirit can groan when our emotions cannot be described. I have loved. As I rub John's chest over his gown, I feel the wiring that is still in place from where his chest was opened eighteen years ago, and the pronounced tapping of the mechanical valve that once reminded me of a Timex, ticking away each time it opened and closed. Now I can just feel it opening and closing as it needs to. I look at the tattoos that have served as reminders of milestones in his life, and of decisions that he has made. They are both reflective of good times and bad, but do not define the man that now lays dying. I hold his hand and tell him that I "love him," and that it will "be okay." I have known. Last week as we walked out of the hospital where he had spent five days, and doctors had attempted to somehow regulate his heart by injecting his stomach with blood thinners, and then pushing blood pressure medication, we realized that something was different this time. I heard him say, "I'm tired, so tired," and we knew that our journey was about to change. As I looked at the clothes I had seen him wear for the last several months, and the stains left by the sweat of summer, as he tried to hustle jobs to simply survive, I knew that he was more than just, "tired." We walked into a store and purchased new clothes and new shoes. A few things that would make him comfortable, and help him to keep his mind focused on what he had, rather than ache for what might "fix" how he was feeling. I have watched. He has always had striking blue eyes. A characteristic that several of my family members have, including the beautiful eyes of my daughter. I have witnessed them close for the last time as he gently rests. I have watched as caregivers have embraced this restless man, and demonstrated that he is worthy of love and care, not focused on what he has "done in his life," but where he is now. The place where we accept ourselves for who we are, and that God's redemption is available to both the saint and the sinner. I have learned. As difficult as this process has been at times, I have learned to have greater trust in God. I have learned that if we could just be, for a few minutes each day, fully where we are, we would indeed learn that we are not alone and that the One who is with us wants only one thing: to give us love. John's journey, like ours, is one of Exodus. We are being brought into a place where we belong. Where God has called us to be. We leave this world to enter into full communion with God. As I look at the ceramic heart given to me by one of John's doctors, I realize it is possible for us, like Jesus, to send our own spirit of love to our friends when we leave them. Our spirit is deeply rooted in the Spirit of God, and is the greatest gift that we can provide to those who we love. The abundance of our life is realized in our dying. When we leave, we will encounter the words of Jesus when he said, "It is good for you that I leave, because unless I pass away, I cannot send you my spirit to help you and inspire you.” John's life inspires me. Stay in God's grip! G. Todd Williams (c) 2019 "I am coming to you now, but I say these things while I am still in the world, so that they may have the full measure of my joy within them." ~ John 17:13 This morning I find myself sitting at the bedside of my cousin, watching him die. In hospice circles we call it, "actively dying." In my heart I know it is his journey to God and to the peace that his soul has searched his entire life to find.
I'm sad. He was among my first childhood friends, and he has taught me so much about how to love "unconditionally," especially in the last few months as we have reconnected for this most important journey together. This morning I am a witness to the person who hung next to Jesus, asking that he be remembered when he enters into his Kingdom, and Jesus telling him, "Today you shall be with me in paradise." As I watch him, I can't help but realize how his dying is making me think of my own mortality, and how I hope my final hours are filled with friends and family by my side, telling me that it will be "okay." I remember eighteen years ago, sitting beside him in the ICU after he had a mechanical heart valve placed, and how this morning, placing my hand on his chest, feeling this piece of miraculous mechanical marvel, now slowly going silent. I have prayed with hundreds of people as they have made this journey, but yet this morning's prayer lifted is filled with my own tears and sadness. My grief is real and is overwhelming me, but yet, I smile and tell him, "I love you," and that everything will be, "okay." Even as I write this, I watch each breath, think of the laughter we have shared, the tears that we have cried, and of our history that we have in common. The valley of the shadow of death leaves me with a new perspective this morning. I remember two small boys playing in their great-grandmother's back yard, taking turns riding a tractor powered by small feet on pedals, and sharing fudge ice cream bars on hot summer days. I embrace the reality that at the time of our death, goodness and mercy surrounds us. Watching him I recognize and confess our sameness. God came for both the powerful and powerless, not to point out our differences, but to acknowledge how we are the same. God does not come in to take our pain away, but to share it as well. Our hearts become open as we share this experience with one another. It is in times like these that we cannot minimize the unlimited and unlimiting acceptance that each of us are the beloved children of God, with an acceptance that is total and embraces us completely. It is a divine gift that never abandons us. Death does not have a final say. It may be intrusive and visible at this time, but it cannot overcome the resurrection and the life to come. Stay in God's grip! G. Todd Williams (c) 2019 “Which of these three do you think was a neighbor to the man who fell into the hands of robbers?” The expert in the law replied, “The one who had mercy on him.” Jesus told him, “Go and do likewise.” ~ Luke 10:37 - 37 It has been a week. It's not often that I allow my personal life to enter into my blog, but today I feel that it is important.
I have been living the story of the Good Samaritan, while dealing with the Prodigal Son. I always see both stories as a place of healing and wholeness. For the man who had been beaten and left to die, and the other, a son who was welcomed back into the arms of his father. I find it interesting that in both stories all the individuals are not named. I think that it's because at any time, we could insert ourselves into one of the roles that are being shared. Throughout both stories, the actions that are being performed are always about choice. The Samaritan makes the choice to cross the street and help the beaten man and suddenly is forever known as "Good." A son leaves his father and demands that he be given what he believes he is owed, goes off and squanders it all, then returns home and is forever known as the "Prodigal." One of the hardest conversations I have ever encountered in my life occurred this week as I sat in a hospital room with my cousin as he was told he was going to die. While most of his life he has made choices that many of us would never make, or even be in a situation to encounter the opportunity to even make the choices that he has made, none the less, he would even tell you, "My life hasn't been filled with a lot of common sense," then smile. Addiction is something we all know something about, especially today where opiates rob communities of resources, and families of the people they love. My sister, who is a psychiatric nurse, reminds us, "The only difference between me and the alcoholic is just one drink." Years of addictions have reduced the years of life for my cousin to just a few months left to live. Taking him from the hospital where he had been treated, to the hospice where I work, but also, where he will be kept comfortable, has also brought me face to face with the Samaritan and the father of the son. Stopping at a local store to pick up new socks, a pair of shoes, some t shirts and some pants he can lounge in, made me realize that even the simplest and smallest of things can make a tremendous difference in the life of others. He stood in the shower, the first one he had taken in months, and then changed into the new clothes, throwing away what he had worn for the last four months away. I stood at the dumpster outside the building that night and just simply cried, because I knew that the place where he was staying, the people would see him as a person, and that he was clean, and safe. We don't know much about the lives of the father or Samaritan, the son, or the man that was cared for, in the following days and months after the writer shares of their experiences and events. I guess it leaves room for us to have our own encounters and realities of our own actions. For me it is the reminder of how short our lives actually are, and how each day presents itself in a way that we could find ourselves among the pages of the people in these two stories. Wherever we may be in these stories, the love and grace of God is present. We are invited to be instruments of healing and wholeness for others, even when we are wounded and broken. The broken and hurt people from these stories provided a way for the lives of those who helped them to also be changed. Healing, wholeness, grace, faith, hope, and love... Stay in God's grip! G. Todd Williams (c) 2019 "I always thank my God as I remember you in my prayers, because I hear about your faith in the Lord Jesus and your love for all the saints."
~ Philemon 4 Sometimes I simply have to pause and think about how it is that God infinitely loves me when I struggle to be loved and to love in the world around me. Understanding how we can be loved in an unconditional way before the world shapes our idea of how we can be loved, cannot be taught. It begins with God, and then with us, as we realize that we are a reflection of that love to the world. It is something that comes from above and from within. It's like looking into a mirror, and going past the initial reflection. It means looking within and seeing God's love manifested in a great way, while making itself known through our words and actions. When I think of those that live around me, I witness what unconditional love is. When I think of my grandparents, and some of the other saints that taught me so much about the love of God, I witness unconditional love. We are called to be that witness. A reflection, that announces the truth of God's love and calls us to act in accordance with it. Be the reflection of God's unconditional love while remaining in God's grip! G. Todd Williams (c) 2019 If I have the gift of prophecy and can fathom all mysteries and all knowledge, and if I have a faith that can move mountains, but do not have love, I am nothing. ~ 1 Corinthians 13:2 Love is an interesting thing. From the very moment we begin to talk about love as children, we are told that God loves us. As we begin to grow older, and we encounter others, even those who may do us harm, we are told that we are to love others as well.
Often we speak about love as if it is a feeling. But if we wait for a feeling of love before loving, we may never learn to love well. The feeling of love is beautiful and life-giving, but our loving cannot be based in that feeling. To love is to think, speak, and act according to the spiritual knowledge that we are infinitely loved by God and called to make that love visible in this world. Mostly we know what the loving thing to do is. When we "do" love, even if others are not able to respond with love, we will discover that our feelings catch up with our acts. How do we know that we are infinitely loved by God when our immediate surroundings keep telling us that we'd better prove our right to exist? I have a dear friend, Pastor Jeffrey Campbell, who each day posts a simple hashtag, #urloved. Many times it is among the first things that I read in the morning, and it serves as a reminder that love exists, and that I am somehow part of that love. The knowledge of being loved in an unconditional way, before the world presents us with its conditions, cannot come from books, lectures, television programs, or workshops. This spiritual knowledge comes from people who witness to God's love for us through their words and deeds. These people can be close to us but they can also live far away or may even have lived long ago. Their witness announces the truth of God's love and calls us to act in accordance with it. God is love, and you are loved. Stay in God's grip! G. Todd Williams (c) 2019 I still have many things to say to you, but you cannot bear them now. ~ John 16:12 I think that I am grateful that I don't know everything about God. Having spent several years attending mass in the Roman Catholic Church earlier in my life, there is something about the term, "The mysteries of God," that I have grown to love.
Not having all the answers invites us into a relationship that is full of discoveries. Jesus tells the disciples that he simply cannot tell them all that there is to know about God because they cannot begin to bear everything. Learning to live each new day, open, and vulnerable to the Spirit, means that we continue to discover new things about God and our relationship with the Creator. Besides not knowing everything about God, I am also grateful that we live in a diverse world with people who we can also learn from. I recently shared with a group that one day in my job I had to find a "Russian speaking Rabbi, a Chinese speaking Monk, and a Spanish speaking Priest all before noon. And I did because I live in the Houston area and we are a real melting pot within the United States." Each day I also learn from others. Realizing that I don't know everything about God, or others, also means that I am still being shaped. Allowing ourselves to be open to change is one of the greatest challenges that we face, and one that even Jesus understood can be difficult for some. Living each day, open to the mysteries of God, allows for us to experience God anew in us each day. Stay in God's grip! G. Todd Williams (c) 2019 Hope deferred makes the heart sick, But desire fulfilled is a tree of life. ~ Proverbs 13:12 I look forward to the "first-blooms," of new plants that we have planted in our yard. I am especially excited for the blooms of our "Nancy Tree." Named for a patient of mine whom we celebrated this past week after she died following a long illness. "Nancy," encouraged me to order this tree, and now I am waiting in anticipation for it to bloom.
There is something about anticipation that brings about many feelings in our lives. Jesus understood the anticipation of his death while praying in the garden of Gethsemane, and how his death would somehow become something good for all humanity. Anticipation greets us when we think about our own journey, from this earthly life to an eternal one. It becomes a great source of anticipation, as well as, anxiety. So often I hear these words shared by my patients, "I'm not afraid of death. I'm afraid of how I will die." Jesus saw death not as an ending, but a new beginning. The real question for us is how do we live in the anticipation of the things to come without losing sight of today? We cannot always know what tomorrow, or even the next moment may bring, but we can remain faithful through our anticipation. By allowing our faith to overwhelm our anticipation, we can live fully into each day. Philippians reminds us, "Do not be anxious about anything, but in every situation, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God. And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus." (Philippians 4:6 - 7) I can't wait to see the blooms on our "Nancy Tree," that also serve as a reminder that eternity awaits, and faith will carry me us as we remain in God's grip! G. Todd Williams (c) 2019 Going a little farther, he fell with his face to the ground and prayed, “My Father, if it is possible, may this cup be taken from me. Yet not as I will, but as you will.” ~ Matthew 26:39 This afternoon I'm spending time writing a sermon for a funeral that I am to preside over tomorrow morning. It's the first time that I have journeyed with Jesus into the garden as part of funeral sermon, but it makes complete sense in using the text.
"Sit here while I go over there and pray." I think of the times that I have been present as people enter into places that they are uncertain about entering. Court rooms, operating rooms, funeral homes and interviews are just a few of the places I have waited just outside while others have entered. The 23rd Psalm reminds us that we journey through the valley of the shadow of death with God, but often we don't know how to journey with others. Jesus simply asks the disciples to wait, and yet, they fall asleep while Jesus has one of the most difficult conversations with God recorded in his life. Jesus is anxious, and his whole life is about to change. I was present the moment that this person breathed her last breath. I was present for the last time she opened her eyes and looked around. I was one of the last people to hold her hand, and felt her holding it back. I was there for the final, "You wait here while I go over there." I am grateful for the times when I am brought into the God's garden of grace. Like Gethsemane, it is the place where I can pray, and ask of God the most difficult of things. To let things that are before me to pass, but also, to give God thanks for preventing things from happening as well. As the hymn reminds, "I come to the garden alone," but yet God is present. We are challenged to cry out for things to pass from us, but like the woman who I am remembering tomorrow, and remembering the final moments of Jesus' life, we are to push through. To have the courage to announce that, "It is finished," and to emerge through the situation. The garden of Gethsemane is more than facing perceived suffering. It is the place where we learn about ourselves and what we are capable of. It is where God leads, and grace sustains. Where sweat pours from our forehead, and we discover the courage to go back into the world. The garden is the place where God is sometimes silent, but yet we discover that the answer was already known. Stay in God's grip! G. Todd Williams (c) 2019 The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it. ~ John 1:5 Each day I am reminded of the light that each of us carries, and how important it is for us to allow the light of Christ to shine. While we know that the darkness cannot overcome the light, we are very aware of the darkness that surrounds the light.
We live in a world that often looks at closed doors as something sad, while the opening of doors is something to be celebrated. The same light that allows us to see the closed door, also illuminates the opening of another. Paul writes that we are to give thanks in all circumstances. It is a reminder to me that we are to celebrate in our current condition. Learning how to celebrate in the present invites us to allow our light to shine, even when we encounter dark times. We cannot celebrate Christmas without the birth of a child. Easter without the death of Jesus, and then the empty tomb. Pentecost without the rushing wind and the encounter of the Holy Spirit. Illuminating the light of Christ in our present condition is an invitation for us to say, "Yes!" It is hard to be afraid of the next step to take when we not only have faith to take the next step, but when the pathway before us is being illuminated by Christ and hearing God's voice tell us to, "Walk!" Stay in God's grip! G. Todd Williams (c) 2019 "You did not choose Me but I chose you, and appointed you that you would go and bear fruit, and that your fruit would remain, so that whatever you ask of the Father in My name He may give to you. ~ John 15:16 Yesterday during our Pentecost Sunday celebration at church, as I read the account in Acts, others joined me in the reading, speaking in a language that they knew. It was interesting to hear what I was reading in Russian, Italian, Greek, Spanish, German, and even to have someone using American Sign Language. There were some people who looked confused in the congregation, much like I'm sure those that were present that day became confused as well.
As we related the entrance of the Holy Spirit as a rushing wind, and spoke of flames arising, I was suddenly looking at those around me as the visible presence of the resurrected Christ. Have you ever thought that your life is the presence of the resurrected Christ in the world? Although the life of Christ, shared through scripture, tells of what Christ did while walking among us for just over three decades, the real story is the one that Christ is living today as the resurrected Christ. We can point to a timeline and have an understanding of when Christ was born to Mary, when Christ lived, and even died upon the cross, but what we often forget is that Christ rose from the dead. That is the existence that we should understand the most, because that is the time we are living now! Like many of us, I look forward to the day when we all may know Christ in the way that the disciples knew him. Being able to see his face and to hear his voice with perfect clarity. But until that promise occurs, we are that presence for the world. It's not always easy being the living example of Christ. In a world where "fact checkers" follow around people to listen and prove what the people are saying is true, how is it that those who live by faith, not by sight, can help to support the fact that Christ exists? I would hope that our lives would become the facts. Lived out in faith, hope and love. All of which are supported by our actions. For each of us, that is how others may see and know that Christ lives! Stay in God's grip! G. Todd Williams (c) 2019 "Now the Lord is the Spirit, and where the Spirit of the Lord is, there is freedom. And we, who with unveiled faces all reflect the Lord's glory, are being transformed into his likeness with ever-increasing glory, which comes from the Lord, who is the Spirit."
~ 2 Corinthians 3: 17-18 In each of our lives we have moments when we "know" that something really important is happening within us. Often it is related to a new direction in our life or a significant re-commitment to a path that we are already on. We have a deep sense that the new step we are taking matters very much. Don't ever think that God is not doing "something" in your life. Each of us matters to God. The manifestation of Christ takes many forms. Within the womb of a Hebrew girl. On the steps of our Nation's Capitol where justice seekers stand and hold signs. On the playground where a bully's words have brought out strength unseen before in his victim. Or in the silent moment of prayer where peace seems to roll in like the evening tide. I could go on and on about what God is doing in our lives, but it is up to each of us to seek out the Spirit and allow it to rise up and recognize by living out the manifestation. We should try each day to see and understand how we are God is manifesting God's self in us. On this Pentecost Sunday, may we allow the Spirit of God to move through us! Stay in God's grip! G. Todd Williams (c) 2019 Moses said to the Lord, "Oh Lord, I have never been eloquent, neither in the past nor since you have spoken to your servant. I am slow of speech and tongue." The Lord said to him, "Who gave a person their mouth? ...Now go; I will help you speak and will teach you what to say."
~ Exodus 4: 10-12 The discussion between Moses and God on the mountain always makes me smirk because I can see myself, and also others who have shared, trying to talk God out of something. Why do we try to make deals with God? Years ago as a teenager I got in trouble at home, and I remember the first thing I thought was, "God, if you'll help me get out of this, I will do..." Moses was trying so hard to get out of God calling him to lead the Hebrew people out of Egypt. He was like, "With so many others out there... I am not all that. I'm a slow speaker. I stutter. Really?" I remember watching the movie, "The King's Speech" and noting how remarkably painful it was for this man to make a complete sentence. But yet, when the time came for him to lead, and to reassure the people of the the United Kingdom when their enemy was moving towards them, his words brought courage and empowered many. I have always heard that God doesn't call the equipped, he equips the called. If we could only believe in oursleves as God does and learn to respond with the simple, "Yes, Lord..." instead of, "Really?" our lives and the world would be amazingly different. Stay in God's grip! G. Todd Williams (c) 2019 But the Comforter, which is the Holy Ghost, whom the Father will send in my name, he shall teach you all things, and bring all things to your remembrance, whatsoever I have said unto you. ~ John 14:26 I was recently at the bedside of a woman who had died. She was surrounded by several family members, including her older sister, her daughter, and the newest great-grandchild born into the family. As we sat and I listened to them share of memories with the woman, her older sister looked at me and shared, "Today I lost my last sister. I am the only one left out of eight of us."
I couldn't help but realize that this woman had experienced the death of every one of her siblings, and that she was now the remaining reminder of her generation. She reached over and picked up the latest grandchild and began playing with her hands. She looked at me and asked, "So what do you think that the greatest lesson I have learned about all of this? I have learned that today these are just the 'little tears.'" "Little tears," I asked? "The real tears will come later, and they will catch you off-guard, but you have to let them come. That's when you know you are really grieving the loss." Her encounter with the loss of every sister and brother had taught her a lot about grief and how it appears. I have often wondered what grief must have looked like for Mary, the mother of Jesus. To have watched her son be killed in the most horrific way, and to be buried, only to once again encounter the resurrected Jesus days later. Scripture does not allow us to enter into those moments, when she first saw him again, and then what it was like for her, as he finally ascends into the heavens, leaving her once again. I can't imagine what that grief must have looked like. This Sunday as we celebrate the birth of the church with Pentecost and I am reminded that Jesus told those one afternoon in a sermon, "Blessed are those who mourn, for they shall be comforted." (Matthew 5:4) Additionally, the Holy Spirit is also referred to as the "Comforter." (John 14:26) In as much as the Holy Spirit is part of the who God is, I am also reminded that the Holy Spirit was also sent for those whom had lost Jesus. Their grief was still real. Their mourning was real as well. More than anything, Pentecost should also be the reminder that God is also about comforting those who have experienced loss, those who mourn, and those who are to be comforted. Stay in God's grip! G. Todd Williams (c) 2019 |
AuthorRev. G. Todd Williams is the author of the book, "Remember Me When..." and is a former hospice chaplain and pastor. Archives
February 2024
|