Friends, it has been heartbreaking to hear the stories and see the images of our brothers and sisters in Christ in Haiti who experienced/ are experiencing the devastating affects of the earthquakes.
Kevin Wright, a fellow Duke Div Alumni, was in Haiti when the earthquakes occured, but has since made it home safely:
http://www.wcnc.com/video/featured-videos/Charlotte-minister-stuck-in-Haiti-during-earthquake-81572787.html
We lost some very faithful Christians who were there trying to offer help:
http://new.gbgm-umc.org/umcor/newsroom/releases/archives2010/unitedmethodistreliefexecutivedies/
Sam Wells wrote a prayer for Haiti:
A Prayer for Haiti - By Dean Sam Wells
Composed by Rev. Sam Wells, Dean of Duke Chapel
A Prayer for Haiti
God of the living and the dead, we wail in grief at the pain and loss and horror and distress of our brothers and sisters in Haiti.
We do not understand your ways – that those who already suffer the most, now suffer so much more.
Lead us to repentance, that we who have sinned so much are punished so little, and they who already struggle have now impossible burdens to bear.
Where people are still breathing under collapsed buildings, give them air and hope and courageous searchers.
Where children are injured or orphaned, find them trusted friends and generous caregivers.
Where despair is infectious and disease or looting spreads, bring patience and forbearance and healing and strength to conquer temptation.
And when others look with compassion from afar, release resources, empower expertise, shape political will,
and bring deliverance for your people in their distress.
Through him who was crushed and bruised for us, in the comfort of your Holy Spirit. Amen.
And so we mourn. We lift our voices in the wailing and screaming of those lost, but we lift our voices in prayer still clinging to the hope that Christ offers us. We do not/cannot understand God but we can cry out to God together and show one another Christian love.
Psalm 22: 1-5
My God, my God, why have you forsaken me? Why are you so far from helping me, from the words of my groaning? O my God, I cry by day, but you do not answer; and by night, but find no rest.
Yet you are holy, enthroned on the praises of Israel. In you our ancestors trusted; they trusted, and you delivered them. To you they cried, and were saved; in you they trusted and were not put to shame.
...Even in the midst of tragedy we put our trust in God because no matter what happens in life God is always our creator, redeemer, and sustainer.
How can we help?
So many ways!!!
Pray for the people of Haiti!
At Warwick Memorial UMC: Write a check and designate your contribution for "Haiti Relief" through a
special offering
Make a health kit: http://new.gbgm-umc.org/umcor/getconnected/supplies/health-kit/
Sign petition to help stop Haiti's debt: http://www.one.org/us/actnow/drophaitiandebt/
Love and peace to you all,
Rev. J
Thursday, January 21, 2010
Monday, January 11, 2010
Do you wear a mask?
This past Sunday I preached on the Baptism of Jesus Christ (Luke 3:15-17, 21-22). In Jesus' baptism the people were finally able to see that Jesus was indeed the Son of God. Although they may have had doubts before, they saw a dove descend upon Jesus and may have heard God's voice claiming Jesus as his beloved Son.
So this phenomenon got me thinking about what kind of illustration I could use to bring it home and I decided upon a mask. One of my best friends, Megan, pointed me to this powerful poem:
Please Hear What I'm Not Saying
Don't be fooled by me.
Don't be fooled by the face I wear
For I wear a mask, a thousand masks,
Masks that I'm afraid to take off
And none of them is me.
Pretending is an art that's second nature with me,
but don't be fooled,
for God's sake don't be fooled.
I give you the impression that I'm secure,
that all is sunny and unruffled with me,
within as well as without,
that confidence is my name and coolness my game,
that the water's calm and I'm in command
and that I need no one,
but don't believe me.
My surface may be smooth but
my surface is my mask,
ever-varying and ever-concealing.
Beneath lies no complacence.
Beneath lies confusion, and fear, and aloneness.
But I hide this. I don't want anybody to know it.
I panic at the thought of my weakness exposed.
That's why I frantically create a mask to hide behind,
a nonchalant sophisticated facade,
to help me pretend,
to shield me from the glance that knows.
But such a glance is precisely my salvation,
my only hope, and I know it.
That is, if it is followed by acceptance,
If it is followed by love.
It's the only thing that can liberate me from myself
from my own self-built prison walls
from the barriers that I so painstakingly erect.
It's the only thing that will assure me
of what I can't assure myself,
that I'm really worth something.
But I don't tell you this. I don't dare to. I'm afraid to.
I'm afraid you'll think less of me,
that you'll laugh, and your laugh would kill me.
I'm afraid that deep-down I'm nothing
and that you will see this and reject me.
So I play my game, my desperate, pretending game
With a façade of assurance without
And a trembling child within.
So begins the glittering but empty parade of Masks,
And my life becomes a front.
I tell you everything that's really nothing,
and nothing of what's everything,
of what's crying within me.
So when I'm going through my routine
do not be fooled by what I'm saying.
Please listen carefully and try to hear what I'm not saying,
what I'd like to be able to say,
what for survival I need to say,
but what I can't say.
I don't like hiding.
I don't like playing superficial phony games.
I want to stop playing them.
I want to be genuine and spontaneous and me
but you've got to help me.
You've got to hold out your hand
even when that's the last thing I seem to want.
Only you can wipe away from my eyes
the blank stare of the breathing dead.
Only you can call me into aliveness.
Each time you're kind, and gentle, and encouraging,
each time you try to understand because you really care,
my heart begins to grow wings --
very small wings,
but wings!
With your power to touch me into feeling
you can breathe life into me.
I want you to know that.
I want you to know how important you are to me,
how you can be a creator--an honest-to-God creator --
of the person that is me
if you choose to.
You alone can break down the wall behind which I tremble,
you alone can remove my mask,
you alone can release me from the shadow-world of panic,
from my lonely prison,
if you choose to.
Please choose to.
Do not pass me by.
It will not be easy for you.
A long conviction of worthlessness builds strong walls.
The nearer you approach me
the blinder I may strike back.
It's irrational, but despite what the books may say about man
often I am irrational.
I fight against the very thing I cry out for.
But I am told that love is stronger than strong walls
and in this lies my hope.
Please try to beat down those walls
with firm hands but with gentle hands
for a child is very sensitive.
Who am I, you may wonder?
I am someone you know very well.
For I am every man you meet
and I am every woman you meet.
By Charles C. Finn
This poem summarizes the life of every person. We all want to be known and we all want to be loved. But we don't let people get to know us. We hide our true selves from the world and lie awake late at night wondering why no one tries to break through our hardened walls.
We all wear masks. We are so afraid of letting people in because we don't want to be hurt. We think if people really knew who we were then they would not love us.
Jesus did not wear a mask. He was human and divine and he was not afraid to be both these things in many situations. Jesus didn't care what other people would think. So he hung out with prostitutes, and tax collectors, and Gentiles. He got dirty and cried in public and made time for people that no one wanted to hang out with.
Jesus makes it possible for us to take off our masks and experience God's love through faith and the power of the Holy Spirit. When Jesus was baptized we recognized His true identity, and so when we are baptized we place our identity in Jesus Christ and the things above. Not on the things of this world.
We must not only take off our masks before God, but before other people. We must learn to confess our sins to our trusted brothers and sisters in Christ. A funny thing happens when we tell other people we are not perfect...they begin to tell us that they are not either and then together we figure out how to do life together in mutual respect and Christian accountability. Amazing things happen when you really ask someone how they are...they might actually tell you.
My hope for my church is that we can all take off our masks from time to time, accept the love of God and others, and let God and one another in.
Rev. J
So this phenomenon got me thinking about what kind of illustration I could use to bring it home and I decided upon a mask. One of my best friends, Megan, pointed me to this powerful poem:
Please Hear What I'm Not Saying
Don't be fooled by me.
Don't be fooled by the face I wear
For I wear a mask, a thousand masks,
Masks that I'm afraid to take off
And none of them is me.
Pretending is an art that's second nature with me,
but don't be fooled,
for God's sake don't be fooled.
I give you the impression that I'm secure,
that all is sunny and unruffled with me,
within as well as without,
that confidence is my name and coolness my game,
that the water's calm and I'm in command
and that I need no one,
but don't believe me.
My surface may be smooth but
my surface is my mask,
ever-varying and ever-concealing.
Beneath lies no complacence.
Beneath lies confusion, and fear, and aloneness.
But I hide this. I don't want anybody to know it.
I panic at the thought of my weakness exposed.
That's why I frantically create a mask to hide behind,
a nonchalant sophisticated facade,
to help me pretend,
to shield me from the glance that knows.
But such a glance is precisely my salvation,
my only hope, and I know it.
That is, if it is followed by acceptance,
If it is followed by love.
It's the only thing that can liberate me from myself
from my own self-built prison walls
from the barriers that I so painstakingly erect.
It's the only thing that will assure me
of what I can't assure myself,
that I'm really worth something.
But I don't tell you this. I don't dare to. I'm afraid to.
I'm afraid you'll think less of me,
that you'll laugh, and your laugh would kill me.
I'm afraid that deep-down I'm nothing
and that you will see this and reject me.
So I play my game, my desperate, pretending game
With a façade of assurance without
And a trembling child within.
So begins the glittering but empty parade of Masks,
And my life becomes a front.
I tell you everything that's really nothing,
and nothing of what's everything,
of what's crying within me.
So when I'm going through my routine
do not be fooled by what I'm saying.
Please listen carefully and try to hear what I'm not saying,
what I'd like to be able to say,
what for survival I need to say,
but what I can't say.
I don't like hiding.
I don't like playing superficial phony games.
I want to stop playing them.
I want to be genuine and spontaneous and me
but you've got to help me.
You've got to hold out your hand
even when that's the last thing I seem to want.
Only you can wipe away from my eyes
the blank stare of the breathing dead.
Only you can call me into aliveness.
Each time you're kind, and gentle, and encouraging,
each time you try to understand because you really care,
my heart begins to grow wings --
very small wings,
but wings!
With your power to touch me into feeling
you can breathe life into me.
I want you to know that.
I want you to know how important you are to me,
how you can be a creator--an honest-to-God creator --
of the person that is me
if you choose to.
You alone can break down the wall behind which I tremble,
you alone can remove my mask,
you alone can release me from the shadow-world of panic,
from my lonely prison,
if you choose to.
Please choose to.
Do not pass me by.
It will not be easy for you.
A long conviction of worthlessness builds strong walls.
The nearer you approach me
the blinder I may strike back.
It's irrational, but despite what the books may say about man
often I am irrational.
I fight against the very thing I cry out for.
But I am told that love is stronger than strong walls
and in this lies my hope.
Please try to beat down those walls
with firm hands but with gentle hands
for a child is very sensitive.
Who am I, you may wonder?
I am someone you know very well.
For I am every man you meet
and I am every woman you meet.
By Charles C. Finn
This poem summarizes the life of every person. We all want to be known and we all want to be loved. But we don't let people get to know us. We hide our true selves from the world and lie awake late at night wondering why no one tries to break through our hardened walls.
We all wear masks. We are so afraid of letting people in because we don't want to be hurt. We think if people really knew who we were then they would not love us.
Jesus did not wear a mask. He was human and divine and he was not afraid to be both these things in many situations. Jesus didn't care what other people would think. So he hung out with prostitutes, and tax collectors, and Gentiles. He got dirty and cried in public and made time for people that no one wanted to hang out with.
Jesus makes it possible for us to take off our masks and experience God's love through faith and the power of the Holy Spirit. When Jesus was baptized we recognized His true identity, and so when we are baptized we place our identity in Jesus Christ and the things above. Not on the things of this world.
We must not only take off our masks before God, but before other people. We must learn to confess our sins to our trusted brothers and sisters in Christ. A funny thing happens when we tell other people we are not perfect...they begin to tell us that they are not either and then together we figure out how to do life together in mutual respect and Christian accountability. Amazing things happen when you really ask someone how they are...they might actually tell you.
My hope for my church is that we can all take off our masks from time to time, accept the love of God and others, and let God and one another in.
Rev. J
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