Goin' Down to Mama's

Sunday Morning Serenity

There’s so much noise in the world. And there almost always has been. Jerusalem was a noisy place during that Passover week long ago, as crowds of people came into the city to celebrate the feast. It was a noisy place as Jesus made His triumphal entry into the city, throngs of followers shouting “Hosanna!” And it was a noisy place when He was taken away from those who loved Him and cast into an angry mob shouting “Crucify him!”

But when it was all over, when Jesus was laid in a tomb and His family and followers went home to grieve . . . quiet. I like to wake up in the wee hours on Easter Sunday and imagine that silent pause—that still moment between the maelstrom of events leading up to Christ’s death and His miraculous appearance, first to Mary Magdalene and then the disciples, to help them grasp the incomprehensible truth that He had risen. I like to imagine what it must have been like for Jesus’ most devoted followers to have their deepest sorrow transformed into their greatest joy—and to know that, centuries later, we can still find hope and joy in God’s gift of grace, forgiveness, and eternal union with Him.

“Father, I desire that they also whom You gave Me
may be with Me where I am, that they may behold
My glory which You have given Me;
for You loved Me before the foundation of the world.
O righteous Father! The world has not known You,
but I have known You; and these have known
that You sent Me. And I have declared to them
Your name, and will declare it, that the love
with which You loved Me may be in them, and I in them.”
John 17: 24-26

[Image by freerangestock.com]

 

Sunday Morning Serenity

There hasn't been much time for piano practicing lately, but I didn't want to "wing it" on Palm Sunday, so while Dave was still asleep, I got up early this morning and plugged the headphones into my keyboard. I gravitated to a collection of beautiful funeral music that my friend Jane gave me. That might sound like an odd choice at first, but then again, not really. Jesus was preparing his disciples for His earthly death—and preparing Himself to endure it—during their last trip to Jerusalem together. 

Some of my closest friends have had to plan funerals lately—memorial services for parents they loved dearly. As a volunteer church musician, I've been called on many times over the years to help friends and family plan those services—which are very difficult, given that they require so many decisions from grieving people who are in no shape to make them. Oftentimes, they're too overwhelmed by loss to even think of a favorite hymn or Scripture passage. 

Christ understood that loss, which is so painful because it's all about separation. Suddenly, there is a seemingly uncrossable chasm between us and somebody we love and need. But because of Palm Sunday and the events that followed, that chasm IS crossable:

 I tell you the truth,
you will weep and mourn while the world rejoices.
You will grieve, but your grief will turn to joy.
A woman giving birth to a child
has pain because her time has come;
but when her baby is born,
she forgets the anguish because of her joy
that a child is born into the world.
So with you: Now is your time of grief,
but I will see you again, and you will rejoice,
and no one will take away your joy.
(John 16: 20-22)

[Image by Chance Agrella @freerangestock.com]

Sunday Morning Serenity

I came home late yesterday afternoon with a warning for Dave: "Prepare yourself. It's going to be BAD." I was talking about next month's American Express bill. Somewhere between going on and off Weight Watchers (translation: dodging that three-way mirror at the mall) and freelancing for clients who rarely required face-to-face meetings, I all but stopped shopping for clothes, and my wardrobe deteriorated. I had gym clothes, Saturday jeans (the ones that haven't been in style for years but are way too comfortable to get rid of), and a few skirts, blouses, and sweaters that have constituted by church clothes and meeting outfits for . . . years.

Last fall I started an interim job and got through the winter by rotating sweaters and a few mail-ordered silk turtlenecks with "dressy jeans" and church skirts. But then interim turned into full-time. And once the weather warmed up, my turtleneck plan fell apart. Getting ready for work every morning suddenly became an ordeal: Did I wear this outfit yesterday? Does this look frumpy? Is there anything in this closet that wasn't purchased during the Bush Administration? Is there anything in this closet that doesn't need ironing? Where's the Febreeze?

I had to face it: A trip to the mall was inevitable. So I shopped. And shopped. And shopped some more. It took all day, but at least now I have a reasonable number of options that might not make me hip and happenin' but will at least make me feel a little put together.

It's an entirely superficial thing, but clothes can affect how we feel about ourselves—and telegraph messages to other people. Since I had "raiment" on the brain this morning, I did a search on BibleGatway.com and found over 200 verses in the Bible that mention clothes. People tear their clothes to show distress, sadness, and regret; the prodigal son comes home, and his father clothes him in a fine robe; a woman who has been sick for many years touches the hem of Jesus' garment because she believes she will be healed with just that little contact, and she is, because of her faith; the disciples lay their clothes on the young colt before setting Jesus on it as He makes His triumphal entry into Jerusalem; some of that crowd spread palms in the road, while others lay down their clothes as a show of respect and honor; the Roman soldiers at the crucifixion divide Jesus' clothes into four shares.  

It's such a human thing to need and/or want what we consider the proper clothes. Maybe that's why the Bible uses our outer trappings as a metaphor for spiritual preparation—we are to clothe ourselves in humility and righteousness—wrap God's word around us like clothes. Unlike what I spent way too much money on at the mall, spiritual clothing doesn't just affect how we feel about ourselves—it changes who we really are—inside, where it counts.

Rather, clothe yourselves with the Lord Jesus Christ,
and do not think about how to gratify the desires of the flesh.
Romans 13:14

For the perishable must clothe itself with the imperishable,
and the mortal with immortality.
When the perishable has been clothed
with the imperishable,
and the mortal with immortality,
then the saying that is written will come true:
"Death has been swallowed up in victory."
1 Corinthians 15:53-54 

. . . for all of you who were baptized into Christ
have clothed yourselves with Christ.
Galatians 3:27

Therefore, as God's chosen people,
holy and dearly loved,
clothe yourselves with compassion, kindness,
humility, gentleness and patience.
Colossians 3:1

[Image by Deepu Das at Freerangestock.com]

Sunday Morning Serenity

I had two things on my mind this morning: (1) the mean-spirited shenanigans of the current political race, which would be comical if it weren't so sad; and (2) the pain of sickness and loss that some of my dearest friends are going through right now, which makes issue #1 seem all the more unfortunate. There are such big challenges to be wrestled with, not just in "The World" but in every individual life. Facing them requires strength and courage and faith and resilience and love and compassion and forgiveness. I'm blessed to have a circle of friends who have all those qualities in abundance. Thinking of them today reminded me of words from the first congregational hymn I ever played in church, along with a passage of Scripture that has become one of my favorites:

I am resolved no longer to linger,
Charmed by the world's delight.
Things that are higher, things that are nobler,
These have allured my sight.
[from "I Am Resolved," text by Palmer Hartsough]

 

Finally, brethren, whatever things are true, 
whatever things are noble, 
whatever things are just, 
whatever things are pure, 
whatever things are lovely, 
whatever things are of good report,
if there is any virtue and if there is 
anything praiseworthy—meditate on these things.
Philippians 4:8