Recently, I attended a Bible study on the book of JOB. I had studied JOB before and always considered Job's friends to be failures as friends go. But during this study, I heard something different in the Scriptures. The first 7 days and 7 nights, the friends of Job tore their clothes, wept aloud, sprinkled dust on their heads, sat in silence on the ground with Job, no doubt rocking back and forth with Job in his tremendous grief. Yes, before they opened their mouths and began to say careless things, there were days when 'mourning with those who mourn' was the only right thing to do and they did it so very well. Let us do what is right first in light of the tragedies we have witnessed (the massacre in the Aurora, CO movie theatre). Let us first be willing to sit in silence with those who are grieving and to offer a gentle touch in their darkness. Perhaps intercessory prayers in our worship services would be a beginning and a way to allow us to do that. Spoken prayers and then periods of silence. There will come the time for other words and more vocal and active responses for change. Today, allow me to share a moment 8 years ago, in a theatre, that changed my life forever. It is for this reason that I recognize the power of sitting with someone in mourning.
Rejoice with those who rejoice; mourn with those who mourn. (Romans 12:15 NIV)
She and I were strangers. The only reason we sat next to each other was that our ticket stubs placed us together in the theatre that day. Before the play, we giggled and rejoiced over little things. We probably giggled just a little too much because I noticed that her mother glanced my way with a somewhat helpless look on her face as if to say, “Please don’t encourage her.” Then, with a simple question, the child’s rejoicing changed to a beautiful expression of mourning as best as this 6-year-old knew how to mourn. As the lights dimmed, a gentle touch was offered by a small hand. A gentle touch that will forever be felt.
There must be a name for moments such as these - holy moments when God whispers, “Listen and understand.” It was that day in the theatre when I was reminded that there aren’t always words needed for shared joy. Time spent listening, smiles offered, excitement and yes, even giggles shout, “I’m rejoicing with you” much more than words could ever express. There was a lot to be excited about that day. She was staying with her grandparents (who wouldn’t be excited about that?). I was beginning my vacation (yeah!). She looked at me and proudly proclaimed, “I’m a big sister! My baby brother is 2 months old.” As a big sister myself, I could share in her excitement. I pointed to my younger brother and said, “I’m a big sister, too. My baby brother is 45 years old!” (giggle-giggle). She asked, "Where is your Mommy.” I pointed to my mother and she pointed to hers. Her next question was inevitable and I answered before thinking through my words. “Where is your Daddy,” she asked. “My Daddy died 10 years ago,” I replied. Giggles stopped. Her response was simply, “Oh.” Why did I say that? Ten years ago might as well have been ten days ago in a 6-year-old’s mind. She sat quietly with her hands in her lap, looking at the stage. She climbed up on her knees to whisper in her mother’s ear and then sat down again. The music began. The house lights were turned down. It was then when I felt soft, gentle pats on my arm from this child who mourned for me in her own little way. She had wisdom and comfort in her mourning that often eludes adults. No words needed. Just to pat my arm for a while was enough - enough for us both.
God mingles holy rejoicing with our rejoicing and holy tears with our tears. It is a beautiful expression of agape’ love when we can do the same for others in such a pure and simple way. Giggles and gentle touches. God calls us to do both as we look into faces and hearts. Yes, God calls us to those moments of giggles and gentle touches. My little friend in the theatre knew that and because of her beautiful, sweet and simple expression of compassion, I now know this.
Saturday, July 21, 2012
Friday, June 29, 2012
"Floating ... and Crashing"
There was a stoplight,
a large intersection,
a square piece of cardboard,
an early morning breeze
and me.
The cardboard was lifted
from the ground by the breeze.
It began to dance lightly in the air,
floating up and dipping down.
It flipped end over end
and raced in front of me
as if it was a square tire.
Then the morning's breeze ceased
and the cardboard sadly floated
to the middle of the intersection.
It fell onto the hood of a moving car
and then onto the road.
I noticed words scribbled on it ...
"WILL WORK FOR FOOD."
Car after car sped over it,
leaving tire tracks on the words.
It was then when I wondered
about the person
who had written the words.
Who was this person?
Where was this person?
What changed this life
from one that once danced
joyfully and lightly on the
cool breezes of their days
to the life that found the need
to write such words
and hold this cardboard
along the roads of life?
Who was this person
who was much like
the cardboard
that he or she once held ...
floating one moment
in full view
and invisible the next?
The light turned green
and yet for a moment
I didn't move ...
I couldn't move
for I found myself praying.
(c) anna murdock
a large intersection,
a square piece of cardboard,
an early morning breeze
and me.
The cardboard was lifted
from the ground by the breeze.
It began to dance lightly in the air,
floating up and dipping down.
It flipped end over end
and raced in front of me
as if it was a square tire.
Then the morning's breeze ceased
and the cardboard sadly floated
to the middle of the intersection.
It fell onto the hood of a moving car
and then onto the road.
I noticed words scribbled on it ...
"WILL WORK FOR FOOD."
Car after car sped over it,
leaving tire tracks on the words.
It was then when I wondered
about the person
who had written the words.
Who was this person?
Where was this person?
What changed this life
from one that once danced
joyfully and lightly on the
cool breezes of their days
to the life that found the need
to write such words
and hold this cardboard
along the roads of life?
Who was this person
who was much like
the cardboard
that he or she once held ...
floating one moment
in full view
and invisible the next?
The light turned green
and yet for a moment
I didn't move ...
I couldn't move
for I found myself praying.
(c) anna murdock
Saturday, June 16, 2012
"The Kingdom of God is Like ..."
(Please read Mark 4:26-34)
The little boy
with a missing front tooth
and the blackest of black hair
(that was quite uncontrollable)
said to his mother,
“I need a few seeds
and some wet paper towels.”
The mother called
neighbor and relatives and friends
and found seeds.
They didn’t know what kind
and they hoped
that they weren’t too old
to sprout
(although they looked too old).
The little boy
wet the paper towels
and sandwiched
the tiny, begged-for seeds
between them …
and then he went to bed.
The next morning,
the little boy with ‘bed-head’
stumbled and yawned
his way to the seeds
that he so carefully
tucked into their own ‘bed’
of soggy paper towels
just before their bedtime
and his, the night before.
The child’s mother saw
his disappointment
and noticed the worry lines
on his brow.
In a soft voice, she said,
“You have done what you are to do.
That is enough, my beloved child.
The seed will sprout and grow.”
And so, he did
as the one who loved him most
had asked of him …
He would sleep and rise …
night and day.
He would wait
and trust
and hope
and allow
for a great mystery
that would sprout
from a child’s homework
and a little water.
“What is this all about?”
the little boy with unruly hair
and a missing-tooth-smile asked.
“It is such a mystery to me,
this little sprout,”
he exclaimed one morning.
As he looked for answers,
the beloved child heard words
from the one who loved him
more than life itself.
“The kingdom of God is like ….”
The little boy
with a missing front tooth
and the blackest of black hair
(that was quite uncontrollable)
said to his mother,
“I need a few seeds
and some wet paper towels.”
The mother called
neighbor and relatives and friends
and found seeds.
They didn’t know what kind
and they hoped
that they weren’t too old
to sprout
(although they looked too old).
The little boy
wet the paper towels
and sandwiched
the tiny, begged-for seeds
between them …
and then he went to bed.
The next morning,
the little boy with ‘bed-head’
stumbled and yawned
his way to the seeds
that he so carefully
tucked into their own ‘bed’
of soggy paper towels
just before their bedtime
and his, the night before.
The child’s mother saw
his disappointment
and noticed the worry lines
on his brow.
In a soft voice, she said,
“You have done what you are to do.
That is enough, my beloved child.
The seed will sprout and grow.”
And so, he did
as the one who loved him most
had asked of him …
He would sleep and rise …
night and day.
He would wait
and trust
and hope
and allow
for a great mystery
that would sprout
from a child’s homework
and a little water.
“What is this all about?”
the little boy with unruly hair
and a missing-tooth-smile asked.
“It is such a mystery to me,
this little sprout,”
he exclaimed one morning.
As he looked for answers,
the beloved child heard words
from the one who loved him
more than life itself.
“The kingdom of God is like ….”
Tuesday, May 1, 2012
"In Darkness and Silence"
I awoke very early this morning,
for no apparent reason.
Like a child, I slipped out of bed,
carrying my pillow
and dragging my blanket behind me
into the dark, dark living room.
I sat,
hugging my pillow,
my blanket covering me,
my toes cold.
In this darkness
where there was not one piece of light
and in the silence,
where strangely not one bird was singing.
I wondered if this is what it feels like
to be empty of all worship.
Darkness and silence.
A nothingness.
Ah, but what is that I hear?
Is it a bird’s song?
A single bird, gloriously singing?
And is that a small bit of light
piercing the darkness of predawn?
Now, oh my, the birds are singing
in full chorus!
Even in darkness and silence,
there is the promise of worship
waiting to sing …
waiting for us to see
in yet another day
that God has indeed come into our lives!
And it was night …
and it was morning ..
and it is good!
for no apparent reason.
Like a child, I slipped out of bed,
carrying my pillow
and dragging my blanket behind me
into the dark, dark living room.
I sat,
hugging my pillow,
my blanket covering me,
my toes cold.
In this darkness
where there was not one piece of light
and in the silence,
where strangely not one bird was singing.
I wondered if this is what it feels like
to be empty of all worship.
Darkness and silence.
A nothingness.
Ah, but what is that I hear?
Is it a bird’s song?
A single bird, gloriously singing?
And is that a small bit of light
piercing the darkness of predawn?
Now, oh my, the birds are singing
in full chorus!
Even in darkness and silence,
there is the promise of worship
waiting to sing …
waiting for us to see
in yet another day
that God has indeed come into our lives!
And it was night …
and it was morning ..
and it is good!
Friday, April 6, 2012
"Reminders on this Good Friday"
The weather is like it always is on Good Friday ... or so says my mother. "There will be moments in this day when the clouds roll in. There will be dreariness and rain." I have heard this since my early childhood years and have grown to look toward the skies on Good Friday. I think that I shall do this every Good Friday for as long as I live. Yes, it is cold and rainy and dreary this morning. I need to remind myself ... "It's Friday, but Sunday is coming. It's Friday, but Sunday is coming. It's Friday, but Sunday is coming." That is our faith, my friends ... "It's Friday, but Sunday is coming!"
May you not weep alone on this Good Friday. May God hold you steady at the foot of the cross.
Wednesday, April 4, 2012
Anything But Routine
Sunday, we left our palm branches
on the pews
and stopped shouting "Hosanna!".
Monday was just that ...
... a Monday with its same old routines.
Yesterday, people milled about
as if this week would prove
to be like last week.
No different.
But this week IS different ....
An upper room is being prepared.
A betrayal is in the final stages of planning.
Intimate prayers will soon be heard.
A command to 'remember' will be demonstrated.
Feet will be washed by the Servant.
Hands will be washed by one in power ...
washed to remove responsibility.
Disciples will fall asleep as Jesus prays.
Soon, there will be a kiss -
a kiss that will ultimately move us
to the foot of the cross
and finally to the victory
of an empty tomb.
This week is anything but routine.
O God, help us to walk together through this week as faithful, wide-awake disciples. Amen.
on the pews
and stopped shouting "Hosanna!".
Monday was just that ...
... a Monday with its same old routines.
Yesterday, people milled about
as if this week would prove
to be like last week.
No different.
But this week IS different ....
An upper room is being prepared.
A betrayal is in the final stages of planning.
Intimate prayers will soon be heard.
A command to 'remember' will be demonstrated.
Feet will be washed by the Servant.
Hands will be washed by one in power ...
washed to remove responsibility.
Disciples will fall asleep as Jesus prays.
Soon, there will be a kiss -
a kiss that will ultimately move us
to the foot of the cross
and finally to the victory
of an empty tomb.
This week is anything but routine.
O God, help us to walk together through this week as faithful, wide-awake disciples. Amen.
Monday, March 19, 2012
"A Nicodemus Moment"
(John 3:14-21)
She sat in a darkened sanctuary
expecting little
yet hoping for much.
She sat in a darkened sanctuary
alone …
and then Light walked in,
uninvited and unannounced,
whispering, “For God so loves you….”
Her heart beat faster
as she heard that
God had loved her in her ‘befores’ …
… before she asked for this Love,
… before she admitted to
needing this Love,
… before she sought to
understand such a Love,
… before she realized that she
wanted this Gift of Love.
She sat in a darkened sanctuary
expecting little
yet hoping for much.
She sat in a darkened sanctuary
alone …
and then Light walked in,
uninvited and unannounced,
whispering, “For God so loves you….”
Her heart beat faster
as she heard that
God had loved her in her ‘befores’ …
… before she asked for this Love,
… before she admitted to
needing this Love,
… before she sought to
understand such a Love,
… before she realized that she
wanted this Gift of Love.
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