"Dear forgiven debtors..."

The beginning words of my sermon this morning has drawn me into the garden. It rained last night. Not much, but enough for droplets to remain present this morning on leaves that are waiting for the dawn.

I am reminded that forgiveness, in any amount, is still forgiveness, when it is allowed to be received.

Like the droplets of water, forgiveness is waiting for, "what next?"

Will it simply remain as droplets, or will it be received? Or perhaps it will run off onto the ground and be used in another way?

I struggle with forgiveness at times. Especially when others point out to me, "Why do you always allow 'that person' to continually do 'that' to you?"

Sometimes it's because the person reminds me of someone else, and allow the past experience to frame my perception of the person without allowing the person to be who they really are in my brain.

Maybe the hurt has been too great, and so I avoid the person.

I am drawn into the words, "Forgive us our trespasses and those who have trespassed against us."

I remember years ago, putting up "No Trespassing" signs along our fence line. We would have to secure our property. Not that we didn't welcome people to hunt on our property, we simply wanted to know who the person was and when they would be present as we had cattle that freely roamed the hillsides. Sometimes it would even be one of us kids out, trying to round them up.

We didn't allow trespassing because of the harm it might cause.

We fail miserably at times, and we trespass on others in ways that we sometimes overlook the need to simply say, "I am sorry."

Recognizing when we have done this, and then asking for forgiveness, helps us to be in relationship with one another.

A simple prayer is what Jesus teaches his disciples. Like droplets of water after the rain. Simple. Nourishing. Cleansing. And ready to be received.

The kingdom of God begins by realizing the droplets of forgiveness, grace, and love that are being offered through a simple prayer.

"And lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil..."

Deliver us oh God from moments of great droughts, that leave us dry, and unable to grow as you have wanted.
​
Droplets of water on the garden this morning. Look how something so simple leads...

Stay in God's grip!

G. Todd Williams (c) 2019

"Through Jesus, therefore, let us continually offer to God a sacrifice of praise - the fruit of lips that confess his name. And do not forget to do good and to share with others..."
~ Hebrews 13:15

I have often wondered what it must have been like for Paul to find himself being such an outcast in some places, have his life threatened, be imprisoned, and ridiculed in so many ways during the course of his ministry.

While we all have our challenges, he writes during the worst of circumstances to give thanks always.

I'm not always able to do that the way that I would hope.  Occasionally the glass seems to be a little less than half full, and let's face it, some days are just difficult.

I guess that being in constant prayer also helps us through these moments.  Sometimes we forget that at one point in the time of humanity, that God walked among us.  Jesus knows first-hand what it is to be human, and what the human experience is all about.  While we know that Jesus went off to pray alone, there were also times when the crowds gathered and he spoke aloud as he pronounced that what he was doing was in the name of God so that people might know that what he was about to do involved God.

I'm not so sure that many people would understand if you announced every time you were about to do something that it was because God has lead you to say, do, or believe a certain way!  Our ability to always rejoice while praying without ceasing, sometimes involves us seeking to find the things that bring us joy.  Even in the most difficult of circumstances. 

Rejoice in the Lord always, again, I say rejoice!  Everything that is, is given by the God of love.  All is grace.  Light and water, shelter and food, work and free time, children, parents and grandparents, birth and death.  All of these things are given to us.

Stay in God's grip!

G. Todd Williams (c) 2019

"You know, kindness doesn't cost a thing."

My conversation with an 88-year-old man who has lived a life, that he admits, has been filled with the idea that you can be, "kind to all people," made me stop and realize the wisdom in his words.  As he continued he shared, "It doesn't matter how old you are, what the color of your skin is, what kind of work you do, or how healthy you are.  You can always be kind to others."

He remarked that this wisdom has not always been welcomed.  "Now don't get me wrong, some people I have met have really challenged this!"

But as he continued to share, I felt his kindness, and it made me simply want to listen to his words and to be better about extending kindness to others.

There are those people that you meet that leave you feeling better about yourself.  He has been one of those people.

I am reminded that we are called to be instruments of Christ in the world.  Why can we not also be instruments of kindness as well?

Like the Spirit of God, kindness is simply something that we cannot live without.  Among the many gifts provided to us by God, including, love, forgiveness, goodness, gentleness, peace and joy, kindness is, and always will be, an essential doorway to all of these things.

May we be kind to one another.

Stay in God's grip!

G. Todd Williams (c) 2019

For several years when I was growing up, we lived deep in the hills of Southern Indiana.  The valleys that we called "hollers," often held small streams that we called, "cricks."  Our holler embraced the small crick that ran the length of our property in front of our home, and then headed south into the Hoosier National Forest that bordered the backside.  Among the trees that lined the crick were huge old sycamores.  If you have ever looked closely at the leaf of a sycamore, you realize they are like giant, mitted hands, reaching upward as if to praise  God in the heavens.

After a rain, the trees would send out a fragrance that would permeate everything around.  It's sweetness was the presence of joy among the forest, and I have to admit, even as a young man, I would sit on the old porch swing that hung from the branches, and simply admire how it gave thanks.

This morning as I let our dogs out and walked across the damp grass, I caught a glimpse of a childhood memory that reminded me of the words found in Isaiah, that I am to "go out in joy, and to be led forth in peace."

Perhaps it was the morning dew that was still hanging thick in the air, or the bees that were already dancing among our morning glories, but there was this intense, overwhelming presence, leading me into a place of gratitude.

I stopped and wondered just how many days I have lived and failed to realize that the role of goodness and mercy in my life, must begin with joy and peace.  Of being able to stop, and recognize the gratitude, even for dew that I know my grass will drink in, and I will be faced with mowing the yard sooner, rather than waiting for the weekend.

I suddenly realized that there was a reason humanity was created in a garden, and that God would choose a place such as Eden to initiate a relationship with creation.  With all the concrete that I face each day as I drive from one location to the next, often testing the role of mercy and peace, I recognize that this moment is necessary.  It is God's way of offering my spirit the chance to be fed, and to allow for the joy that is to follow me throughout the whole day.

Perhaps my prayer this morning is filled with more than just gratitude.  My prayer also is an invitation for others to experience this as well.

Stay in  God's grip!

G. Todd Williams (c) 2019

For many of us, each day is just an "ordinary day."  I have to imagine the day that Levi met Jesus was just going to be another "ordinary" day for him as well.  As Levi prepared to leave his home that morning, I'm sure he was already trying to devise new ways to create chaos and difficulties for those in the community.  After all, that was the life of a tax collector.  When we think of tax collectors in those day, immediately we begin to imagine moments filled with corruption, unfair decisions, and the need for reformation.  In modern standards, I don't think we have to look too far to get an idea of what this role was like.  There still exists people who are like this today.

I have to wonder what it was about Jesus, walking up and meeting Levi, that caused Levi to suddenly change?

As Levi's feet hit the floor that morning, did he wipe the sleep from his eyes, and scratch his head.  Did he know that his life was about to change?

Pulling on his tunic and adjusting his clothing, grabbing a piece of bread, did he feel something inside as he took the last bite before walking out the door of his home.  Walking the dirt path that he had for some time, each day, going to the place where he would find ways to collect money for a foreign ruling government.  Even he was a slave to a certain degree.  

Did he see Jesus right away among the people that gathered around where he would sit each day, and when he did, what made him decide to immediately have him over for dinner, inviting others to come and meet the man who simply said, "follow me."

God has blessed my life with people that I simply enjoy being around.  It doesn't matter if we are walking together on a path in the park, or at a place to eat that serves up some of our favorite foods.  There are just some people that I love having in my life.  When you find these individuals, you then discover ways to do more together.

Jesus and Levi seemed to have that connection.  And like so many people, when you really get to know them, sometimes you even come up with names to call one another.  Jesus begins calling Levi, "Matthew."

Before Matthew emerges from the crowd of people that he once associated with, he invites them all together for a large party.  Because he was a tax collector, I can only imagine what a group of his close friends might look like.  Of course, Jesus is told by those who already have their eye on him that what he is doing is wrong.  They don't get it.  Jesus is right where he needs to be, reminding them that what he is doing is just as important as a doctor visiting sick patients.  

We still see that today.  

Jesus and Matthew walk away together when it is all said and done.  Sometimes I think that Levi had to become Matthew to help others see that he had changed.  I'm sure that there were those who said, "Hey, isn't that Levi the tax collector?" as they pointed to Matthew.  Matthew then had to correct them, but then gets to tell the story of how Jesus has changed, not just his name, but his life.

Inviting Jesus to walk with us each day is about inviting change.  It's about helping those who are seeking a different life, and being the living Christ in the world today, while we all take on the name Christian.

Stay in God's grip!

​G. Todd Williams (c) 2019

One of the things that I encounter with communion is the reminder that Jesus knew a lot about brokenness and being broken.  When Jesus breaks the bread and blesses it, he tells those who are present, "This is my body, which is broken for you..."

I then remember the words that Jesus shared with the disciples as I lift the cup, "This is my blood which is poured out for you. A new covenant I make with each of for the remission of sin. Take and drink..."

I then remind all those present with these words, "For as often as we eat this bread and drink this cup, we remember Christ's brokenness for us. His death. His resurrection, and that one day we ALL shall see him. Face to face. These are the gifts of God, for the people of God..."

Brokenness.

Jesus was broken on the cross. He lived his suffering and death not as an evil to avoid at all costs, but as a mission to embrace.  We too are broken. We live with broken bodies, broken hearts, broken minds or broken spirits.

How can we live our brokenness?

Christ invites us to embrace our brokenness as he embraced the cross and live it as part of our mission. Christ asks us not to reject our brokenness as a punishment from God that reminds us of the times when poor choices or bad judgement has created distance between us and the Creator, but to accept it and put it under God's blessing to allow for grace and forgiveness.

Two of the things our broken world needs most at this point. The brokenness that we witness and experience is truly the gateway for a new life and a much stronger and loving society.

Stay in Gods' grip!

G. Todd Williams (c) 2019

I think we often take for granted so many things. The sun rises. Our alarm clocks go off. The water pours out from the faucet. We expect the Kerig to make the same noise prior to making that first cup of coffee, and the known voices of morning program hosts are familiar from the other room as you get ready to head out the door to start the day.

We simply expect this because we create habits, and all of this is in response to what we have come to know to be "normal.

Today has been an unusual Friday.  I am preparing for a wedding later this evening on the beach in Galveston, and I am working around the home, enjoying a day off. 

Today's psalm is a reminder that while the day has many normal features, God has already been tirelessly doing extraordinary projects to ensure my day begins with the sun, water, and all of the things that bring comfort to my life.

I realize that I want for nothing, and I find within, two words... "Thank you..."

So often we spend our life wanting for nothing, because as another Psalm, the 23rd, also reminds that "surely goodness and mercy shall follow each of us."

I hope that each of us find our life filled with comfort, I do realize that if our encounter with the day becomes challenging, even in these moments God is working to make things better for each of us.

Stay in God's grip!

​G. Todd Williams (c) 2019

Darkness had fallen over the city. Shadows had grown and died. Under a gravel and trash-filled rain grate, light managed to tunnel it's way below through the overpass.  Tired eyes, looked upward, and the man began to pray. Not for himself. Instead it was words that he had learned as a child through multiple prayers, "My God is good. My God is great. Thy kingdom come I will be done. Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me. Thank you for this day and my bread I was given. If I die before I wake, heaven is where I will be. Amen."

Just for a moment there was peace. Just for a moment there was silence, until once again a car rolled above, causing metal trim to rapidly "click... click" where seams met.

I sat and watched as the man gathered his treasures close, pulling the blanket a youth group had earlier given as a gift over himself, comb in hand, silently he pulled it through a gathering of hair, until it no longer moved, and was then left there for safe keeping.

"They won't bother it there."

I looked around, not seeing anyone, I just smiled.

"Just stay until I close my eyes," he said. "They won't bother me once I sleep."

Obviously challenged by consciousness, and voices, that managed to interrupt, for most, would seem to be an easy day. Sleep seemed to be the only prescription he could afford.

I don't know what it was about the man that caused me to befriend him. Whether it was the fact he often smiled, even as tears ran down his face, leaving behind reminders of what his face looked like when it was clean and free of the city dust.  Maybe it was because often when I would see him, sharing a sandwich, I knew we would take a moment to pray.

Perhaps it was because this was not the first time I had received an invite to come and visit, up under the overpass, where several people not only stored all their belongings, but managed to find a safe and dry place to sleep.

It was the realization that this man was my brother, who loved me as Christ loved. Unconditionally.

The hopes and dreams of this brother had been shaped by abuse, washed over by rain clouds, and brought into the light by police who warned the man that the place where he stayed was private property and to "move along" when someone complained about "those men" urinating in public and that it "smelled."

I didn't witness most of this, however, I do remember a call one night about three am, when police and social workers, under the direction of a city agency who claimed the property, we're given the okay to "re-settle" those who were homeless and living beneath the towering freeway.

My thoughts immediately took me back to a conversation I had with a holocaust survivor who referred to being "re-settled" when people began to complain about "those people." Was this the beginning of a new effort to commit genocide. Only thing was that this involved the poor, mentally challenged, black man that was my brother who loved me unconditionally.

That next day I would search multiple sites, where abandoned and condemned buildings were once again suddenly being opened by city officials, who had made contracts with land owners to forgive taxes and city code violations, to give a new location to "those people" who now urinated in alleys because toilets were dry, and we're beyond repair.

I cried, and I discovered the words of Matthew pounding in my chest with each heartbeat.

"Woe unto those who saw and did nothing."

While the encounter with this man was now over a decade ago, some things have not changed.  "Those people," are still "God's people," and there are still those who see and do nothing at all.

While we watch, and then struggle to decide which side to claim, our God watches, and I pray, "My God is good. My God is great. Thy kingdom come I will be done. Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me. Thank you for this day and my bread I was given. If I die before I wake, heaven is where I will be. Amen."

Through the grate above, where laws litter and politicians claim righteousness, we struggle to see clearly the light, which cannot be overcome. Jesus is whispering, "Woe..."

We must realize that those we see as the least of these, matter.

What violence and hate we perpetuate will dwell on our streets and in our homes. I am reminded of a man who prayed. I am challenged by a disciple who was inspired to write. I am moved by a God who is saying, "Woe unto each of us who saw and did nothing...."

Stay in God's grip!

​G. Todd Williams (c) 2019

I remember years ago while in college taking a class that was designed to prepare students for initial interviews for perspective employment following graduation.  Of course, one of the questions they prepared us to answer was, "Where do you see yourself in five years?"

I think that seemed to be the essential question because for the next decade, any time that I was in an interview, and then as a person who did interviews, this question came up quite frequently.

Now that I look back to that time of my life, I realize that neither then, or present day, would I ever think that I would end up where I am now!  At this point in my life, and with the people I encounter each day in my role as a hospice chaplain, there seems to be this illusion that somehow we are all in control of our lives.

I think most of us would like to think that we can decide what we need most in our life, what our next plan will involve, what goals we hope to accomplish, and what others might think of us with the choices we make.  

I realize that while I am busy trying to run my own life, I seem to miss God gently moving in my life, often directing me in a different way than my own.

One of the things that I have discovered is the need for solitude, and sometimes the deliberate searching for that gentle presence.  God is always present, however, God doesn't use the same means that we do to get one another's attention.  God is not pushing or shouting at us.  I have to remember that God's voice is small, and soft.  It is gentle and easy.  It is simply a loving presence.

Stay in God's grip!

G. Todd Williams (c) 2019

This past Sunday I shared in my sermon that as the 72 people chosen by Jesus were being sent out to share the good news of Jesus, he asked that when people were turned away, they would simply let those in the home know that the, "Kingdom of God had drawn near."

For each one of these encounters, it was a moment that was offering change.  With so many encounters that we have in the world today with all kinds of situations, I am reminded that in every moment we are being given the opportunity for the kingdom of God to be drawn in.

All the events of our lives are like seeds that carry within the possibility of becoming a moment of change.  No matter how sad or joyous the occasion, each come with an invitation.  We no longer need to run from present time in search of the place where we think life is really happening.

I have often wondered what the profound meaning of life might look like if we begin to glimpse something of eternity in the present.  When this happens, all the moments of our lives takes on new meaning.

The kingdom of God drawing near does more than allow for a few good moments between the many bad ones.  It is the invitation to transform all our time, and allows our eyes to see what is invisible, and makes it visible for the world to see.

Stay in God's grip!

G. Todd Williams (c) 2019