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Sunday’s Sermon – We Are Witnesses – Acts 10:34-43, Luke 24:1-12 – Easter

April 21, 2019 Leave a Comment

“Do you solemnly swear or affirm that you will tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, so help you God?” This question, or one like it, marks the beginning of virtually every courtroom scene as a witness takes the stand. The answer implies a commitment to truth beyond just casual conversation. It is meant to spark the conscience, bringing an intentionality and gravity to the circumstances of the testimony. The stories shared by witnesses matter, and they are among the most powerful of all testimony, with each sharing their truth.

The story of Easter is one of witnesses. As Luke tells it, Mary Magdalene, Joanna, Mary the mother of James, and other women are amazed at the sight of the empty tomb and the news that Jesus is risen from the dead. It was unimaginable, and likely unbelievable to their eyes. As they try to wrap their heads around such a concept, they are helped by a jogged memory; Jesus had hinted at this before. They connect the dots, and the story, the whole story of Jesus of Nazareth, comes together. And together they bear witness to the most amazing revelation of all time.

But what happens when they share the news? The disciples brush it off. The word in the Greek is leros. It is translated by the NRSV as “idle tale,” with the dictionary offering “nonsense” or “empty talk” as additional options. The root is connected to our word for “delirious,” and Greek it is usually reserved to describe the ranting of a person suffering from delirium. This is not a word to be taken lightly. Karoline Lewis even suggests it may have been intended akin to how we would utter an expletive when someone tells us something that is so inconceivable that we’re sure that they are just making it up. It is a word used in the New Testament exactly one time – here in Luke 24. The eleven disciples, despite all that Jesus had said, and despite the compelling testimony from these women, did. not. believe. them.

Skepticism about such highly unlikely news as a man coming back from the dead is certainly a reasonable doubt. Eyewitness testimony is tricky. Studies show that it is heavily relied upon, but is highly unreliable[i]. It seems the more we learn about science and how the brain works, the less we can take into account how someone remembers any given event as factual truth. From the disciples to modern ears, our first response to news this radical also may be to write it off as nonsense. But, seeing as you’re here this morning, there must be something that draws you in a bit more. Maybe you too are poking your head into the empty tomb, you know, just in case there might be something to this report.

The power of the testimony of the women at the tomb was more than just an absence of a body. They were testifying to the fullness of the story of God’s incarnation and promise. They had remembered (verse 8) all that Jesus had taught them about who God was, is, and will be. Just as the tomb was broken open, so was the silence they had kept since standing at the foot of the cross. The story of a Savior could no longer be kept quiet. It had to be told, proclaimed, preached. This is the gospel. Good news that is worth repeating.

Our text from Acts is a continuation of their witness, with the author of the gospel of Luke describing how belief in Jesus Christ as Savior spread. Peter’s sermon, given here after his lifechanging, eye-opening dream and exchange with Cornelius, is his Easter testimony. In it, he recounts not just the empty tomb, but a complete and concise summary of Christ’s life and teachings. As Nancy Clare Pittman offers:

The boundless gift of the empty tomb cannot be separated from the words and actions of Jesus. Resurrection, after all, is not some buoyant ideal, unconnected to the real world. It is an invitation to live as Jesus lived, a doorway to a life in which meals are shared with enemies, healing is offered to the hopeless, prophetic challenges are issued to the powerful. Only now it is not Jesus who does these things – it is we ourselves who see at last the subversive power of the resurrection in order to live it now[ii].

The witnesses of Easter are not just recounting facts to us almost two thousand years later in these passages; they are inviting us to take our place in the story, in God’s story, so that perhaps we, too, might become witnesses to the resurrection. You may think about witnesses as just being in the courtroom but the truth is, we encounter testimony and witnesses almost every day. Have you ever looked up reviews for a product you are thinking about buying, or asked friends where the best place to go for brunch is? You are looking for witnesses. Have you shared a recipe, talked about a show you just discovered on Netflix, or passed along the name of a plumber or electrician? You have given testimony.

So, what would you say if asked about your faith, or what you believe about God or Jesus? Would you have a story spilling out of you like Mary Magdalene and Peter? Or, would you be more like a child who climbs in the car after school and answers the question “so, what did you learn/do at school today?” with a shrug and a “don’t know.” Articulating our own faith and experience of the risen Christ can feel overwhelming. And that’s normal. Amazement was the reaction of the women at the tomb at first, too. But the call of Easter is to move from our amazement into becoming witnesses. All of our “alleluias” should lead us into proclamation that Christ is indeed alive. The Resurrection isn’t just reporting on an event from the past; it’s a celebration of an active and present God in the world even today.

All around us are signs of resurrection and new life. The soggy ground has been nourished and softened, with fresh sprigs of green pushing through the soil. This week the world gasped and grieved at the sight of a fire in the cathedral in Notre Dame, France. As stories circulated about the immediate efforts to restore this iconic site, a movement began to raise awareness about some lesser-known houses of worship in Louisiana. About a month ago, fires consumed St. Mary Baptist Church, Greater Union Baptist Church, and Mount Pleasant Baptist Church within 10 days in St. Landry Parish, fires set in hatred by an arsonist to these African-American churches. As of last Sunday, a GoFundMe fundraiser had raised just below $50,000. After some politicians, activists, celebrities and journalists heard of the story in the wake of Notre Dame, the idea of helping out a bit closer to home caught on. By Wednesday morning, the total raised topped $1 million[iii].

A tragic story that could have been a blip on the radar, is now a story of hope as these communities rise up from the ashes. What made the difference? People willing to serve as witnesses and share the story.

Today, we gather to hear news once again of the empty tomb, and to remind ourselves of the greatness of this story. As those who have experienced the risen Christ, even here, even now, we too are witnesses to the transforming power of God. The question Easter asks of us is are we ready to take the stand and give testimony to that good news. May we find the words that speak truth to our experience of God in the world, and may our promise be sealed and affirmed in the words with which we greet each other this day. Christ is risen! Christ is risen indeed. Amen.

~Sermon by Rev. Elizabeth Lovell Milford, Heritage Presbyterian Church, April 21, 2019 (Easter Sunday)

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[i] For additional insights, see articles such as https://www.simplypsychology.org/eyewitness-testimony.html, https://theconversation.com/new-research-reveals-how-little-we-can-trust-eyewitnesses-67663, or https://www.scientificamerican.com/article/do-the-eyes-have-it/. Accessed 4/16/20.

[ii] Nancy Claire Pittman, “Homiletical Perspective: Luke 24:1-12,” Feasting on the Word: Year C, Volume 2, David L. Bartlett and Barbara Brown Taylor, editors (Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox Press, 2009).

[iii] https://www.washingtonpost.com/nation/2019/04/17/after-notre-dame-fire-gofundme-ensured-black-churches-burned-louisiana-got-million-too/?noredirect=on&utm_term=.929af710b4f3

Sunday’s Sermon – Grace, Gratitude, and Good Works – 1 Chronicles 17:16-27

June 24, 2018 Leave a Comment

How would you define “grace”? It’s a theological word we throw around often, particularly in our Reformed Presbyterian tradition. It’s used repeatedly in our scriptures. You hear it in both my opening words and closing benediction each week, in keeping with the traditional greetings and closings used by the Apostle Paul. Professor and theologian Rolf A. Jacobson offers this definition:

The free gift in which God gives everything—eternal life, forgiveness, purpose, meaning— to human beings, who respond by trying to earn it[i].

Grace is central to our understanding of salvation and who God is in relation to the world. It reminds us that we have a God who is merciful and slow to anger, who offers compassion and forgiveness instead of condemnation. Grace comes alongside love and is the means through which God accomplishes all things.

Throughout his letters to the early church Paul hones in on the importance of grace. Some of my favorite passages include those in Romans and the verses in Ephesians which we read a few moments ago. In Ephesians, Paul wishes to make it clear to the people that grace is a gift that brings us salvation. Our unity with God in Jesus Christ is not because of anything we have or have not done, our pedigree or geneology, or any particular turn of luck or accomplished skill. It is, as the reformers said, solo gratia, only grace that grants us this eternal status. Friends, this is good news. Because, as Paul also said in another letter, all of us have sinned and fall short of the grace of God. So, if you remember nothing else about grace, remember that it is a gift. It is not up to us to earn it; all we can do is respond to it.

These are the roots of the story John Newton, the author of the hymn Amazing Grace, who experienced grace in a dramatic way during a particularly stormy voyage in March of 1748. One night, a storm overtook the ship without any time to prepare, and Newton began to cry to the Lord. The next day, in great peril, he cried to the Lord. He later wrote, “That tenth of March is a day much remembered by me; and I have never suffered it to pass unnoticed since the year 1748 – the Lord came from on high and delivered me out of deep waters[ii].” Newton was the captain of a slave-trading ship, and for the next several years he continued, trying to justify his work by seeking to improve conditions as much as possible, even holding public worship services for his hardened crew of thirty each Sunday.

You may have noticed in the stories of hymn backgrounds this summer that many of the authors experienced some sort of conversions, or had nefarious pasts. In this way, they are in good company with many of our biblical heroes, whose stories often reveal less desirable aspects of their lives. I think these stories remind us of God’s incredible ability to do amazing things with even imperfect people. And perhaps, it’s these imperfect people, so aware of their shortcomings, who are able to be more fully aware of God’s grace and its role in their lives. One biblical example of this is King David, who moves in the biblical story from shepherd boy to king with a lot of questionable choices along the way. But rather than focus on this past history, 1 Chronicles tells the life of David through an encouraging lens, leaving out the stories of his personal sin and failure and life before he became king, and instead focusing on the accomplishments he left behind for future generations, including his central focus on worship.

First Chronicles was written for Israelites living centuries after David . . . to help them get in touch with what Israel had once been and could become again[iii].

In short, Chronicles was written to help orient God’s people to respond to God’s grace and mercy, using David’s awareness of it as inspiration. Our text from today comes following David’s interactions with the prophet Nathan, who has guided him in understanding what God would have him do next. David had offered to build a temple for God, but Nathan delivers the message that God has something else in mind. David responds with this earnest and heartfelt prayer that model him as a humble ruler even in his success. He accepts the news from Nathan with meekness and thanksgiving. Rather than boast in God’s grace, David chooses to be grateful.

For both King David and John Newton, responding to God’s grace is about gratitude. It is an awareness of all that God has done, is doing, and will do, and an earnest desire to set their own interests aside in following God. Both men offer powerful prayers of thanksgiving, and because of God’s grace are able to find a new way in which to live in gratitude. Grace prompts us to say “thanks” to God. Each week in worship we confess our sins, and are reminded of this grace, and we respond with a song of thanksgiving to God – giving to God all the glory of this moment.

Grace also prepares us for discipleship. As our text from Ephesians reminds us, we are what God has made us, and God indeed has made us for a purpose – for good works. When we are aware of God’s grace, and lead lives marked by gratitude, we naturally will extend that grace and love to others with our actions. This is the intersection of good works and grace. Good works are not the way to grace, but the natural response to lives aware of its presence.

For John Newton, it changed his entire life path. Despite his efforts to improve his slave-trading ships, after several years he felt convicted of the inhuman aspects of this work and left the seas for dry land. At age 39, he was ordained by the Anglican Church and began his first pastorate in the little village of Olney, near Cambridge, England. During this time, he grew tired of the same old rote hymns provided in the Psalter, and sought to write new hymns that provided straightforward messages about scripture in ways that people could connect to, and so he began to write his own. That’s right, John Newton was responsible for many newfangled hymns. He collaborated with his friend and neighbor, William Cowper, and together they published a collection of 349 hymns in the Olney Hymns hymnal in 1779, with 282 of them by Newton[iv].

Among those were six stanzas of a hymn titled “Faith’s Review and Expectation,” based on Newton’s study of 1 Chronicles 17. It is the hymn later set to an early American folk melody which we know by its opening stanza, Amazing Grace.

John Newton’s contribution to faith communities in Olney and these hymns are certainly an impressive example of the impact that a recognition of God’s grace can have on one man. But the more compelling part of the story for me is what happened next in Newton’s ministry. Because leading lives in response to God’s grace is about much more than becoming a minister and writing good hymns. In the case of John Newton, grace led him to take a stand for something far more important. It is captured on his tombstone, which he himself wrote:

“John Newton, clerk, once an infidel and Libertine, a servant of slavers in Africa, was, by the rich mercy of our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ, preserved, restored, pardoned, and appointed to preach the Faith he had long labored to destroy.”

After serving fifteen years in Olney, Newton became pastor of the influential St. Mary Woolnoth Church in London. During this period, he mentored several influential leaders and clergymen. Most notably, he established a strong relationship with William Wilberforce and other political leaders engaged in the crusade for the abolition of the slave trade. His experience as the captain of a slave-trading ship haunted him, but he also felt compelled by his experience of God’s grace to make changes for the good of the world. It is worth noting that the year of John Newton’s death, 1807, also marked the year the British Parliament finally abolished slavery through all its domain.

In 2006, the story of William Wilberforce’s crusade against the slave trade in the British Parliament was captured in a movie titled Amazing Grace. It is a compelling story about the struggles of leaders in the midst of tremendous changes, and it features several scenes in which Wilberforce engages with his mentor clergyman, John Newton. In one memorable scene, Newton notes the line from the hymn “was blind but now I see,” and notes the irony of how he, almost blind and late in life, had finally seen what was good and right all along, after years of being blind to the sins of which he was a part. Then Newton adds: “Although my memory’s fading, I remember two things very clearly. I’m a great sinner and Christ is a great Savior.” The driving force for him continued to be his faith and understanding of grace, and his willingness to do something with it.

The film also depicts William Wilberforce struggling with whether he should enter the ministry (like Newton) or go into politics. He makes a display in a card game after another player wagered a slave, returning to sing the first verse of Newton’s hymn. Later his friend, William Pitt urges him to make a decision, and asks him “do you intend to use your beautiful voice to praise the Lord – or to change the world?”

While I understand the set-up in the film, I don’t think such an answer is either/or. In fact, a life marked by grace demands that we do both – praise the Lord (show our gratitude) AND seek to change the world, joining in the work of God’s kingdom that we were created for through Jesus Christ. Grace can and should prompt us to good works, to actions that make a difference in the world – not for our own gain, but for God’s. In this way we become extensions of God’s gift of grace to others. This is the work of discipleship: becoming aware of God’s grace, giving thanks for it, and doing something because of it.

That is the work that our denomination’s General Assembly undertook this week, which you will hear about in more detail in just a few moments, and it is a challenge to all of us sitting here in the pews. Each week, we come together to celebrate God’s grace – through word, sacrament, prayers, and song. But it has to lead us somewhere, too. The book of James reminds us that “faith without works is dead.” The story of John Newton should, I think, inspire us to action. To root ourselves in an understanding of God’s love and mercy and reorient our lives in response. For him, that meant a total life shift and committing himself to a cause deeply grounded in a theology that we are all made equally in God’s image and should be treated in that way. This morning, I invite you to sing this hymn in praise to God, but also as a prayer asking for God’s guidance for the work that is yours to do, trusting that in word and song, the Holy Spirt can and will lead us into action. All because of a grace that is so amazing we cannot help but respond. Let us sing:

~Rev. Elizabeth Lovell Milford
June 24, 2018

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[i] Crazy Talk: A Not-So-Stuffy Dictionary of Theological Terms, Rolf A. Jacobson, editor, (p. 99). Fortress Press. Kindle Edition.
[ii] Robert J. Morgan, Then Sings My Soul: 150 of the World’s Greatest Hymn Stories, (Nashville, TN: W Publishing Group, 2011).
[iii] NRSV Student Bible
[iv] Kenneth W. Osbeck, 101 Hymn Stories: The Inspiring True Stories Behind 101 Favorite Hymns, (Grand Rapids, MI: Kregel Publications, 1982)

Sunday’s Sermon – Faith Like a Child – Matthew 19:13-14

June 17, 2018 Leave a Comment

Most of what I really need to know about how to live, and what to do, and how to be,
I learned in kindergarten.
I learned: share everything, play fair, don’t hit people, put things back where you found them, clean up your own mess, don’t take things that aren’t yours, say you’re sorry when you hurt somebody, wash your hands before you eat. Flush. Warm cookies and cold milk are good for you. Live a balanced life – learn some and think some and draw and paint and sing and dance and play and work every day some. Take a nap every afternoon. When you go into the world, watch out for traffic, hold hands, and stick together. Be aware of wonder[i] . . .

This was the first essay of a collection of 50 published by author and minister Robert Fulghum in the now classic book in 1988, which stayed on the New York Times bestseller lists for almost two years. Its premise was simple; to consider those first lessons taught to us at the beginning of our education and consider how the world might be improved if adults adhered to the same basic rules as children. Even thirty years later, its message holds. So many things in our lives and world are based on the most basic of lessons we learned, or should have learned as children, particularly in regards to how to get along with one another. Have you ever sat in a room of presumed adults in conflict, and imagined it to be much like toddlers in a sandbox fighting over toys and flinging sand through the air, just waiting for them to throw a tantrum or cry because sand was in their eyes? I often want to reply to people with learning songs from Daniel Tiger, not just because they’re what we use in our house, but because they are so spot on. Sometimes, the best way we can grow into the kind of mature beings I believe we generally hope to be, is to remind ourselves that it doesn’t always have to be so complicated and dramatic. Sometimes it’s just going back to the basics.

I think the same is true for our lives of faith, and this week in our series want to spend a little time thinking about those songs of faith that we might assume are reserved only for children. They are the ones you will hear echoing in the hallway of the education building each week at the beginning of the Sunday School hour from our Praise Kids. If you pay close attention, you’ll catch snippets of them as Denise plays when the children come and go from the steps in worship. They’re what gets stuck in your head after a week of church camp or VBS, and chances are, if someone starts to sing one you know, you’ll jump right in:

Halle-lu, halle-lu, halle-lu, halle-lu-jah! (Praise Ye the Lord!)

Deep and Wide, Deep and Wide, (there’s a fountain flowing deep and wide)

The B-I-B-L-E (yes that’s the book for me! I stand alone on the word of God, the B-I-B-L-E!)

He’s got the whole world (in his hands!)

Zacchaeus was a wee little man, (a wee little man was he!)

This little light of mine, (I’m gonna let it shine!)

We could go on, couldn’t we? There are a ton of these little songs. At first it seems like it would be easier to come up with some simple summary or phrase, but let me tell you, putting things into such a concrete, clear way that it can easily be understood by a child is a huge task. Anyone who has ever explained anything to a child has likely experienced the following: you give your best, most heartfelt, most accurate explanation of something, and just as you are thinking about your triumph, you get a skeptical face who either 1) dismantles your entire argument in one sentence, or 2) asks the start of a never-ending question: “why?” To answer things for children, you really have to be on your toes. The same is true for these songs. They offer so much more than just a fun little tune or rhyme to teach to kids. They pack a theological punch. The writer of 1 Timothy encourages the young leader to not be dissuaded by his youth, and today I encourage us to not just dismiss those Sunday School children’s songs, because they are meant for the younger set. They provide a distillation of our faith that takes us back to the foundations of our faith. And taking them to heart, no matter our age, reminds us that we are all still children of God.

Children have a lot to teach us about faith. They approach God with a sense of wonder that many of us have lost as we have gotten older (and perhaps wiser) and have encountered the complexities of life. But don’t mistake a child’s wonder with simplicity. Children don’t have any less of the number of theological questions (Where is God? How big is God?) – they are just more comfortable living in the mystery of them. And they aren’t afraid to ask if they don’t know. In this way, they are profound theological thinkers, absorbing the facts and reasonable components of faith as presented, and also gazing into the distance of all the possibilities and ambiguities, and they hold those not in tension, but in harmony with each other. I wonder if this is the truest reflection of what it means to have faith.

Perhaps that’s why Jesus took time to welcome children – because they “get it” in ways that many of us adults just can’t. That picture of Jesus’ welcome appears in all 3 of the Synoptic Gospels (Matthew, Mark, and Luke), each with its own unique characteristics. In Matthew’s version, it is a gentler than the conflict found in other accounts; simple, but weighty[ii]. The theological meat of the story comes with the profound and counter-cultural claim that children are to be welcomed. At the top of the list of reasons for why is the simple fact that Jesus himself said it and modeled it. He saw them, quieted his cranky disciples, and welcomed them into his presence. He laid hands on them, a sign of approval, of blessing, and of commissioning. Children belong, and perhaps the marker of how the world, the church, receives them, is an indicator of how well or not we are exhibiting the kingdom of God here and now. Biblical scholar Judith Gundry-Volf affirms that:

the Gospels teach more than how to make an adult world kinder and juster for children.[They] teach the reign of God as a children’s world, where children are the measure, where the small are great and the great must become small[iii].

To the most vulnerable and weak, Jesus offers welcome. He exhibits signs of blessing and protection. As Olive Elaine Hinnant summarizes this moment:
He will keep little ones safe. They have a place to belong if the world does not seem to care[iv].
Sound familiar? She connects this story to the words of perhaps the most well-known children’s song of all: Jesus Loves Me.

These words were written first in 1860 by Anna Bartlett Warner, who collaborated regularly with her sister Susan to publish 18 of their combined 106 literary works. They were highly educated and deeply devoted Christian young women who lived along the Hudson River, and for many years taught Sunday School classes for the young cadets attending West Point. In fact, they are the only two civilians who are buried in the military cemetery there and were laid to rest with full military honors. Their writing careers came by necessity after their father died, and this particular song comes in a heartbreaking novel titled Say and Seal, a best-seller second only to Uncle Tom’s Cabin at the time, where the character Mr. Linden comforts a dying child, Johnny Fax, with the reminder that he is loved by Jesus, who watches over him. It is a poignant moment in the text that solidifies a foundation in faith that carries us not just through childhood singing but into the final moments of our lives as well. The poem inspired Dr. William B. Bradbury to compose music for it and add the chorus, which he presented in 1862 in his hymnal publication The Golden Shower. You may know some other hymns by Bradbury: “He Leadeth Me,” “Just as I am,” and “Sweet Hour of Prayer” are among those significant contributions he made to the development of early gospel hymnody in our country[v].

This hymn stands the test of time, and is loved by not just children in age, but by all children of God. It quickly gained universal appeal and is one of the most commonly taught first hymns by missionaries because of the central claim it makes to faith. It’s words bring us comfort about whose we are, those who have been claimed and loved by our Lord and Savior, who welcomes us in our most vulnerable state, and promises that even to us, the kingdom of God belongs. When we lay hold to this claim for ourselves, we find ourselves in the embrace of Jesus, who welcomes us as children, however we come, and who promises blessing and a place for us. Everything we need to know about our faith rests on this central claim in our lives, that Christ has claimed us as his own forever. To sing “Jesus Loves Me” is more than just repeating a childhood song – it is stating the core of our faith that enables us to love and serve Christ and each other. Our ability to do that, I think, lies in our willingness to have faith like a child and find our place in the kingdom of God. So may we sing this song of faith together, in humility and meekness of the one in whose presence we come, and in celebration and joy for the welcome we will find there:

~Rev. Elizabeth Lovell Milford
June 17, 2018

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[i] Robert Fulghum, All I Really Need to Know I Learned in Kindergarten, (1988).
[ii] Gary Neal Hansen, “Theological Perspective: Matthew 19:13-15,” Feasting on the Gospels: Matthew, Volume 2, Cynthia A. Jarvis and E. Elizabeth Johnson, Editors, (Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox Press, 2013).
[iii] Judith Gundry-Volf, “Jesus and the Children: “To Such as These Belongs the Reign of God,”” Theology Today 56, no.4 (January 2000): 480, as quoted in Joseph R. Jeter, “Homiletical Perspective: Matthew 19:13-15,” Feasting on the Gospels: Matthew, Volume 2, Cynthia A. Jarvis and E. Elizabeth Johnson, Editors, (Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox Press, 2013).
[iv] Olive Elaine Hinnant, “Pastoral Perspective: Matthew 19:13-15,” Feasting on the Gospels: Matthew, Volume 2, Cynthia A. Jarvis and E. Elizabeth Johnson, Editors, (Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox Press, 2013).
[v] The background for this hymn comes from Kenneth W. Osbeck, 101 Hymn Stories: The Inspiring True Stories Behind 101 Favorite Hymns, (Grand Rapids, MI: Kregel Publications, 1982) and Robert J. Morgan, Then Sings My Soul: 150 of the World’s Greatest Hymn Stories, (Nashville, TN: W Publishing Group, 2011).

Sunday’s Sermon – Signs of Faithfulness

June 10, 2018 Leave a Comment

This is Our Story, This is Our Song is the theme for our June/July sermon series.
Each week, we will explore some of the great hymns of our faith and reflect on their stories and the stories of scripture that they proclaim.

“Here I raise my Ebenezer” has got to be one of the most amusing or strange lines of all of the hymns in our hymnal. In the midst of a beautiful and stirring hymn, it sticks out like a sore thumb, unless we happen to know the Scripture reference from 1 Samuel 7, as Samuel marks a victory over the Philistines with a stone as a monument of sorts to God, recognizing God’s role and giving God credit for their triumphant outcome. The word in Hebrew literally means “stone of help,” and is meant to be a symbol of God’s faithfulness. In some hymnals you’ll find this verse re-translated to “here I raise to thee an altar,” to help better convey the meaning. For my tastes, though, I like keeping Ebenezer, for the richness of the word’s etymology and the opportunity it gives us to remind us that great hymns, like Come, Thou Fount of Every Blessing, are rooted deeply in our understanding of God’s words in the Bible.

The hymn was written by Robert Robinson. His story begins with heartbreak; his father died when he was eight and at age fourteen his mother sent him to England to apprentice as a barber. Instead, though, he got caught up with a rougher gang-like crowd that led him down a path of drinking and general mischief. At age 17, he and his friends decided to attend a meeting where the prominent evangelical theologian, George Whitefield, was preaching. Their purpose, of course, was to heckle, and “scoff at the poor deluded Methodists[i],” but what happened was quite the opposite. Robinson became convicted by the preaching on Matthew 3, with that sermon becoming a turning point in his life, leading to his enrollment in seminary 3 years later. By the time he was 23, he was serving at Calvinist Methodist Chapel in Norfolk, England and in 1758 he wrote a hymn for his sermon on Pentecost Sunday that was a prayer for the Holy Spirit to flood into our hearts with streams of mercy, enabling us to sing God’s praises and remain faithful[ii].

This hymn and it corresponding verse from 1 Samuel prompts us to consider the things in our lives that serve as reminders or witnesses to God’s help and faithfulness for us. For some, it is a place, like the stone gate that leads into Montreat, North Carolina, or stones that line the pathway of a labyrinth or walking trail; the rumble of the ocean waves or lapping of water against a boat. It might even be a literal church. These physical locations have a way of connecting us to the root of our faith. When all else seems lost or difficult, we can come back to these locations for a re-set. They are where we feel closest to God and can remind ourselves of God’s care for us and be at peace. For others, they might be symbols or tangible things we carry with us to remind us of our faith, such as a cross carried in our pocket or hanging around our neck. They could even be a literal stone – have you seen the ones that have a word inscribed on them? You can carry them with you as a reminder of that word of focus and reassurance. Early in my ministry, I received one as a gift from my spiritual director, during a tough time of transition when I wasn’t sure what the future would hold as my time with my first congregation came to an end. The word etched into the stone was “TRUST” and while it seemed ridiculous at first, I found that carrying it with me, in my pocket was calming. Whenever I felt unsure or unstable, I could reach into my pocket and find the rock, which would prompt me to pray and remember to trust God in the midst of my anxiety. It was not a panacea that made the difficulty of that time go away, but it was a way to remind myself that I was not in it alone. “Here I raise my Ebenezer, hither by thy help I come.”

In our lives of faith, it is helpful to have such signs and reminders of God’s presence along the way. When things are difficult, they are critical claims of faith that we cling to in order to have hope even in the midst of despair. That is the setting for the book of Lamentations, written around the end of the 6^th century BCE as a poetic response to a national tragedy following Babylonian military assaults. Our passage this morning from chapter 3 is set within the third of five poems of the book, which cry out to God in the midst of intense pain, both for individuals and the community. These verses provide a brief point of hope, a break of light in the midst of darkness, which present a quiet and persistent confidence in God’s mercy even in the midst of bitter agony. As Beth Laneel Tanner notes:

the hope in God and God’s faithfulness is anchored in the expression of loss and personal reflection on sin.

God is not just faithful; God is faithful in the toughest of times[iii].

Even if all seems lost, God is present and faithful. Lamentations bears witness to hope among the ruins of Jerusalem and our lives without sugar-coating or ignoring the real pain that exists. Like the poet, the weight of the world swirls around us as well. This week brought news of two celebrities who completed suicide, a sobering reminder of the deep pain some live with daily, even when everything on the outside might appear to be going well. Wildfires are raging in Colorado. Children have been separated from parents or lost in systems and people are being detained in tall kennel-like cages on cement floors with only lightweight space blankets for comfort. School children in a Massachusetts kindergarten classroom are learning a rhyme to the tune of “Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star” about how to keep safe if they need to go into Lockdown mode because someone, likely an active shooter, has entered the building. Last Sunday, the Fuego Volcano in Guatemala suddenly erupted, sending pyroclastic flows – fast-moving, searingly hot clouds of volcanic ash and gases, down the mountainside at speeds faster than a jet plane. Entire communities were covered in moments. The death count is currently over 100 and will continue to climb as responders search through the disaster and as the volcano continues to be active. In the midst of these harsh realities, and those difficulties in our own lives, we might be tempted to ask “is God really faithful?”

My favorite Presbyterian Pastor, Fred Rogers, repeatedly said for us to look for the helpers when bad things happened. Put theologically, I think he was calling us to look for those who had raised Ebenezers, signs of faithfulness that God is at work. It is when we notice the first responders – firefighters and officers – who reach out in compassion and love, even saving lives. It is when we see educators teaching in love and calming fears. It is when we see disaster workers around tables making plans not just for tangible relief of clean water and clothing, but also providing trauma counseling for those who have lost it all. It is when we hear about the suicide prevention line where people can call anytime to talk – just dial 1-800-273-TALK (8255). Or, if you are struggling and can’t talk but can text, the Crisis Text Line is available 24/7 by texting 741-741 to receive help. These are signs of God’s faithfulness and help, and they come in the everyday responses of people who care. They are the streams of mercy, shining through like rays of sunlight on the horizon. And they remind us we are not alone.

These signs are what captured the poet in Lamentations 3, who in the midst of despair, looked up, and noted in verse 23 that this love and mercy from God “never comes to an end; they are new every morning.” This verse resonated with another poet, Thomas Obediah Chisholm, who authored more than 1200 poems in the early 20^th century. His life was a roller coaster of ups and downs, including bouts of serious illnesses and inconsistent employment that often left him struggling. He was a man of faith, who identified that throughout his life he had not had a large climactic moment, but instead took note of God’s presence in his life, little by little, morning by morning as he discovered new blessings from God. He sent some of his poems to his friend and musician William Runyan in 1923, who was inspired to put it to music, and the classic beloved hymn “Great is Thy Faithfulness” was born. It wasn’t an immediate hit, but was a favorite of Dr. Will Houghton of the Moody Bible Institute of Chicago, who adopted it as its unofficial theme song, and it became wildly popular worldwide in the 1950s when it was introduced by George Beverly Shea and the choirs at the Billy Graham Crusades.

Like the Ebenezer raised by Samuel, this hymn calls us to place our faith and hope in God, no matter what. It is not a naive belief that God will simply sweep in and fix it all, but a statement about who God is in relation to the world. As Martha Moore-Keish reminds us, it is a:

lively eschatological hope [that] is not escape from the troubles of this world, but stubborn insistence that God’s mercy will have the last word – and life lived defiantly in light of that hope[iv].

To sing, “Great is Thy Faithfulness,” is a refusal to accept the world as it is, but to instead place a sign of faithfulness at the feet of the one through whom all mercies come. It is a song desperately needed for those who had been through tough times, whether it was the Philistines or the Babylonians, or our own modern-day struggles, to remind ourselves where to place our hope. May we join together in singing it, allowing its light to break into our lives, and serve as a beacon of hope for us, resonating deep within our souls. . . .

~Rev. Elizabeth Lovell Milford
June 10, 2018

—————————————————————————————–
[i]       Kenneth W. Osbeck, 101 Hymn Stories: The Inspiring True Stories Behind 101 Favorite Hymns, (Grand Rapids, MI: Kregel Publications, 1982).
[ii]     Robert J. Morgan, Then Sings My Soul: 150 of the World’s Greatest Hymn Stories, (Nashville, TN: W Publishing Group, 2011).
[iii]    Beth Laneel Tanner, “Lamentations 3:19-26, Exegetical Perspective,” Feasting on the Word: Year C, Volume 4, David L. Bartlett and Barbara Brown Taylor, Editors, (Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox Press, 2010).
[iv]    Martha L. Moore-Keish, “Lamentations 3:19-26, Theological Perspective,” Feasting on the Word: Year C, Volume 4, David L. Bartlett and Barbara Brown Taylor, Editors, (Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox Press, 2010).

Sunday’s Sermon – We Are Witnesses – Acts 10:34-43, Luke 24:1-12 – Easter

Sunday’s Sermon – Grace, Gratitude, and Good Works – 1 Chronicles 17:16-27

Sunday’s Sermon – Faith Like a Child – Matthew 19:13-14

Sunday’s Sermon – Signs of Faithfulness

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