Forget your Fears...You Matter!

Forget your fears, look to God, and BE RADIANT!

Mark 10:46-52

They came to Jericho. As he and his disciples and a large crowd were leaving Jericho, Bartimaeus son of Timaeus, a blind beggar, was sitting by the roadside. When he heard that it was Jesus of Nazareth, he began to shout out and say, "Jesus, Son of David, have mercy on me!" Many sternly ordered him to be quiet, but he cried out even more loudly, "Son of David, have mercy on me!" Jesus stood still and said, "Call him here." And they called the blind man, saying to him, "Take heart; get up, he is calling you." So throwing off his cloak, he sprang up and came to Jesus. Then Jesus said to him, "What do you want me to do for you?" The blind man said to him, "My teacher, let me see again." Jesus said to him, "Go; your faith has made you well." Immediately he regained his sight and followed him on the way.

We don't know much of Bartimaeus' life story, a man we find sitting on the side of the road. We’re told he’s blind, something we often think of as a disability. But what others see as a shortcoming becomes his motivation to cry out for Jesus. He pushes his fears aside, paying no mind to the voices that try to silence him. Instead, he cries all the more loudly, “Son of David, have mercy on me!” because he believes in Jesus' powerful hand.

This is a man who is no stranger to suffering, and even though people tell him otherwise, he knows his voice will matter to Jesus. He's right. The courage it takes to fight the fears of being insignificant pays off, and Bartimaeus becomes radiant with healing light.

An interesting thing happened this week, as I read the lectionary texts together. It seemed to be possible, that Psalm 34, even though it was written centuries before Bartimaeus was born, might be expressing the very emotions Bartimaeus experienced on that day of healing. Listen in:

Psalm 34:1-8

I will bless God at all times; God's praise shall continually be in my mouth. My soul makes its boast in God; let the humble hear and be glad. O magnify God with me, and let us exalt God's name together. I sought God, and God answered me, and delivered me from all my fears. Look to God, and be radiant; so your faces shall never be ashamed. This poor soul cried, and was heard by God, and was saved from every trouble. The angel of God encamps around those who fear God; God's angel delivers them. O taste and see that God is good; happy are those who take refuge in God.

As a minister, accompanying people on roads of grief, uncertainty, frustration, and many types of suffering sometimes gets to me. And the words of praise spoken in this Psalm seem to ring hollow at first, as if they're not taking the pain of the world seriously enough. And my own prayers, alongside those I care for who are hurting, often feel like not enough.

And then I remember that the people who wrote the Psalms also knew pain. Deep pain. In fact, it could be their quest for meaning in the midst of sorrow brought them to write these very words: I will bless God at all times.  This Psalm, ancient as it is, continues to inspire our worship as people who follow Bartimaeus' God, our God. The God we believe in and bless, even in our suffering.

“Look to him and be radiant! O taste and see that the Lord is good.”  King David is likely the author of these words, written during one of the most challenging periods of his reign. "O magnify God with me, and let us exalt God's name together!" David, like Bartimaeus, forgets his fears, looks to God, and radiates the kind of faith that changes the world.

What's keeping us from proclaiming God’s goodness in our lives? Are we afraid to say the wrong thing? Do we wonder if it'll make any difference? Are we wondering what others might think? Are we afraid that celebrating the good in our lives might offend those who are worse off? Do we worry that no matter what we say, it will never be enough?

Bartimaeus' story would never have made our scriptures had he simply waved at Jesus as he passed by. David's psalms would never have been published had he stayed a shepherd boy. Both of them conquered their fears in faith that what they had to offer the world mattered. And we would never have received their testimonies of God's goodness had they lived within the confines of their personal fears.

So I wonder today- what stories of God's goodness are hiding behind our fears?

I write poetry, and I don't often share it with others (really only if my mom asks me to). The truth is, I often fear it's not good enough. That its meaning will crumble the moment I speak it aloud. I fear the responses I receive, or the lack of any at all. And still, God places these words in my heart. I wondered this week if maybe I need to forget my fears, look to God, and let the warmth of God's love radiant through my words. So here it goes, I'll share something I wrote this week inspired by the trees and river of God's creation.

You Matter

Billions of fluttering leaves,

Each making more beautiful

The spectacle

of the trees.

When one falls into water,

I imagine its smile,

as it bobs to the rhythm

of its space.

One leaf among billions,

celebrating life given

in mercy and grace.

And if Creator Love

Can give meaning to

one golden leaf,

Ponder how much more 

you are worth

...and ever will be.

When you wonder if you

matter, if you question

your way,

look to the trees.

watch them sway.

And like the shimmering leaf 

who smiles as she falls,

Never let fear stand in

your way.

Simply radiate the joy

of God's day.

 

What story of God's goodness is waiting for your fear to fall away? "O taste and see that God is good; happy are those who take refuge in God."

never been luckier

I suppose lucky isn't the word everyone uses to describe having another hunk of skin taken off her body- but today I feel really lucky.

I feel fortunate because after my melanoma scare from 1.5 years ago, I've had access to medical professionals who keep careful track of my health, even mapping my moles to make certain any changes are caught. Preventative medicine takes such a load of mental stress off my mind, I can nearly describe the excision process as a sense of relief.

I feel particularly lucky to have access to good medical care for two reasons:

1. I know geographical proximity to appropriate and adequate health care is a privilege in this country. Not everyone has access to a dermatologist in rural areas. In fact, had this been only 2 years ago, I would find myself driving 3+ hrs for each dermatologist visit (and I have plenty). I am so privileged to have a wonderful dermatologist right here in Pierre, SD, thanks to Avera and my dermatologist's commitment to living here.

2. I know a good health insurance policy to cover the majority of costs for frequent visits and procedures is also a privilege in this country. I wish it weren't. I wish people with less privilege wouldn't die of melanoma cancer b/c they can't afford care. I hope and pray for a drastically different system one day, even as I happen to be privileged with an excellent health care plan through the United Church of Christ. I couldn't be more grateful for it.

So as I live into the brief pain and frustration of yet another excision- I won't take the privilege of it all for granted. Life is fragile, and feeling well-cared for in the midst of it all is something I desire to offer others as much as I receive myself. That’s what draws me to community centered in Christ’s compassionate ways. And it's what reminds me to value my family more than ever before.

Oh, and if you see me in the next few weeks, please don’t be offended when I don’t hug you. 😉 I promise I will when this heals.

Reflections on "here and now"...a gift of Sabbath

I've been preaching on the concept of Sabbath these past few weeks, and a personal revelation I've had out of all this is how difficult I find living "the now."

I'm really good at living "the tomorrow." Anticipating what's next, preparing for another Sunday or liturgical season, brainstorming for the future of our church and our family. But today, on a day off without an agenda, I'm taking a moment to pause, reflect, and appreciate the first 6 months of our family's life in Pierre, SD. My "now" moment in time.

Because, quite frankly, it's been amazing!

We moved into a home that has been an extreme blessing in more ways than I can count. We're right next to a great elementary school, we have wonderful neighbors, we're close to everything, and it's a new build- so NO RENOVATIONS! :) I also recognize how extremely lucky we are to have this great space, and I find the ability to host others a true joy. Our home is always open and it feels more homey than ever with guests inside.

Our new church is a perfect size for our family. A burgeoning children's and youth ministry, seriously and happily dedicated volunteers, Spirit-filled worship, engaging and critical faith formation, and a place I sincerely enjoy showing up every morning, knowing each day will bring new gifts to my life.

AJ is now closer to the ranch, and although we continue to find challenges in balancing two full-time (and often odd-hour) jobs with the immense joy and occasional frustrations of raising two little wonders, we are so lucky to be in this stage of life. We are productive, energetic, bursting with ideas, and full of love for family and community. Of course, I need a good dose of reminding about this every now and then. I think that's why I appreciate the art of writing about life.

My "now" moment must surely include talk of those two little wonders. Briggs will be 4 years-old in a month (what?!?) and is really maturing in his ability to handle emotions and his aptitude for actually helping out around the house (he insists on taking out the trash, re-filling garbage liners, and yesterday- he ground coffee for us on his own!). His sheer curiosity about...well...everything keeps us on our toes and makes us smile more often than frown. :)

Blaire is 20 months-old, and she is officially holding her own with big brother. She has this one dimple on the right side that melts your heart when she giggles. She is communicating her needs and wishes quite clearly, although rarely with words. She likes to be physically active, always playing rough and tumble games. She even giggles when big brother playfully "prods her like a bull." Must be a rancher's kid, I guess. I certainly don't let Briggs prod me!

Speaking of the ranching life- Briggs often accompanies daddy on adventures like bull shows, cow sales, events at the ranch, etc. and LOVES it. He's always telling daddy how many cattle they should load up on their "really big trailer." Last bull show, however, Briggs informed daddy that he wasn't big enough to actually help load. He's not too small for that job, exactly, he says he's "too medium." :)

With a deep breath, I take in all this goodness of my life "here and now" and want it to settle my tendencies of thinking "future." Maybe if you share with me your stories of the "here and now" we can together rest from anxiety about our tomorrows. Sabbath gifts, meet us now.

Photo cred to my dear sister Leslie!