Lay Down Your Life: Vespers Homily #2

The last homily I gave came rather easily to me. I found a connection in the scriptures with my passion for gardening, so it kind of wrote itself. This week, however, I’ve poured over the scriptures trying to find something that spoke to me. I mean, I could easily write about the 23rd Psalm, but couldn’t we all? Do you really want to hear yet another lesson on one of the most popular texts in the bible? So, I kept reading and rereading the scriptures for this week until I found a passage to focus on. I wanted to explore 1 John 3:16-18. It says:

  16 This is how we know what love is: Jesus Christ laid down his life for us. And we ought to lay down our lives for our brothers and sisters. 17 If anyone has material possessions and sees a brother or sister in need but has no pity on them, how can the love of God be in that person? 18 Dear children, let us not love with words or speech but with actions and in truth. 

What exactly does it mean to lay down your life for a brother or sister? Growing up, I thought this passage was quite literal, (which is what happens when we take scripture out of context, BTW); that we should be willing to die for another person, just the way Christ did for all of us. But how many opportunities are us civilians going to have to throw ourselves on a grenade in order to save someone’s life? If we keep reading, we see John’s meaning. We are to lay down our resources for brothers or sisters in need. We are to be the hands and feet of Jesus  and show how much we love rather than simply saying “Jesus loves you!”. And just who are our brothers and sisters? Are they the people within the walls of this church building? Only those “worthy” of Christian love and help?

Reading this passage made me think of 1 Corinthians 13:1- “If I speak in the tongues of men or of angels, but do not have love, I am only a resounding gong or a clanging cymbal." Did you know that Christians have a bad reputation as being some of the worst tippers in restaurants? Servers dread the Sunday lunch crowd because, not only are we horribly demanding customers, we refuse to tip well, or even worse, “tip” with church tracts or notes about not giving their server a bigger percentage than we give God every week. The media portrays us as bigots because of those Christians that refuse service to a group of people that they have judged sinful.  These are embarrassing times to be a Christian. Our actions are speaking louder than our words, and people are not fooled. Actions like the ones I just mentioned are devoid of the love of God. It’s become so cliche, the saying “What Would Jesus Do?” But what WOULD He do in those situations? I read an article about the religious freedom debate that I loved. The author said that, based on the passage in Matthew 5, not only would Jesus bake a wedding cake for a gay person, He’d bake them two. I mean, this is a man who ate with prostitutes! Hung out with lepers! No one was too low or unworthy of Jesus' compassion. When He fed the 5000, He didn't ask them why they hadn't thought to come prepared so that their children wouldn't go hungry. He saw a need and he responded with compassion. And while he did say, "Go and sin no more", He didn't make accepting Him as their savior a condition of His healing.

So when I think about how someone has “laid down their life” for me, I have a really hard time coming up with an example. But when I look at verse 18 and think about when people have loved me with actions and in truth, it’s a little easier. 

The most recent story I can think of happened last summer. I was in South Carolina helping my parents clean out my sister’s apartment in the days immediately after she passed away. We needed some groceries for dinner, so we went to Trader Joe's. I decided to pick up a few bottles of cheap wine, since I never get the opportunity at the Trader Joe’s in TN. If you’ve ever shopped there, you know the cashiers are quite friendly, so as they usually do, the cashier was chatting me up. She checked my license and saw I was from TN. She asked what I was in town for, probably expecting something like a wedding or some fun family affair, and I told her that my sister had passed away the previous weekend. After I checked out, she asked me to wait a minute. She ran over to the floral department and picked out a bouquet. She said, “You’re probably overwhelmed with flowers, but you can never have too many.” I was so touched and nearly speechless that I could only say "Thank you".

My favorite examples of love through action involve my son, Pierce. He’s gotten some stares and very uncompassionate remarks because of his autism, but the kindness of strangers gives me hope for the future. Once when Pierce was 4 or 5 years old, we were in Family Christian Bookstore. He latched on to a VeggieTales book, a big one, I think it was an encyclopedia of some sort. When I told him it was time to leave and I tried to get him to put the book back, he had a Defcon 4 meltdown, right in the middle of the store. As hard as it is to reason with a normal 4-5-year-old, it’s darn near impossible to reason with an autistic child. I tried to be the good mom and resist the urge to cave to his tantruming. Customers were beginning to stare, but a store employee walked over and asked if there was anything he could do to help. I explained the situation, and he told me to take the book up to the counter. He wanted to give it to Pierce. My pride wouldn’t let him, though, and I ultimately ended up buying the book myself.

Another great example involving Pierce took place about 5 years ago. One day, the kids and I decided to take in "Horton Hears A Who", the movie for that week of the free summer movie series at Opry Mills. We got there early so that we could get seats. As usual, when something is free, the participants are plenty. They had not opened the doors to the theater yet, so there was a line along the wall. We ended up right in front of the entrance/exit to the mall. A day care group was a few feet ahead of us. One of the kids began to wail. If you've spent any time around Pierce, you know that the sound of a crying child really distresses him. Pierce began to cry and threw himself to the ground. I wrestled him back up (which was not an easy task as he was 12 and eye-to-eye with me) and I offered him his earplugs. This worked for a few seconds, but the child continued to wail. When Pierce is in a stressful situation and is faced with the option of "fight or flight" he will ALWAYS choose "flight". He realized, at about the same time I did, that we were right at the automatic doors. He decided to make a run for the parking lot. I grabbed the back of his shirt in an attempt to stop him, and this threw him off-balance. He crashed into a mom behind me who was holding her small child. I was mortified! I apologized and braced myself for the condemning glare and stinging criticism that I knew was coming. Instead, she asked, with genuine concern, "Is he okay?". I explained that Pierce is autistic and the noise was beginning to upset him. This mom says to me, "If you need to take him outside for a few minutes, I wouldn't mind holding your place in line." I graciously accepted her help. We stepped outside and began debating whether to stay or go. Pierce kept chanting "go home", but when I asked if he wanted to see the movie, he said "yes". Reagan clearly wanted to stay for the movie, but she understood how upset Pierce was. I offered to rent the movie if we had to leave, and she thought that was a great idea. I saw through the doors that the line was moving. Pierce was willing to try again, so we ran back inside. I looked for the mom holding our place in line, and saw about 4 people waving frantically to us. Two people in front of her, and one behind her were all looking for us and waving! This mom had told everyone around her what was going on, and that they should be looking out for us. They were nearly at the entrance to the theater. One mom said as we ran up, "We were afraid you wouldn't make it back in time!" We got to see the movie, and Pierce held up pretty well.

I didn’t know any of the people in the stories I just told you. Maybe they’re Christians, maybe not. But those actions spoke to me far more loudly than any sermon, blog post, book, or conversation about “Love thy neighbor”. And it’s made me realize that I’m not doing enough to show God’s love. To lay down my life for my fellow man, whether he is a Christian or an atheist. It’s not my place to judge who is worthy of my compassion. Not one of the people in those situations felt the need to ask me if I’d found Jesus before, during, or after they carried out their random acts of kindness towards me. I love the lyrics of the Brandon Heath song, Give Me Your Eyes. I’ll conclude with the chorus of that song as my prayer tonight:

Give me Your eyes for just one second

Give me Your eyes so I can see

Everything that I keep missing

Give me Your love for humanity

Give me Your arms for the broken-hearted

The ones that are far beyond my reach

Give me Your heart for the ones forgotten

Give me Your eyes so I can see

Knock On Wood

My husband and I were chatting in the kitchen Monday morning. Being self-employed, he's home for a while most mornings, and on my days off, I'm around for a couple hours before I run off to work out and get my errands accomplished. This is when we remind each other what's on the agenda for the day, and on Mondays, the weekly outlook. I decided to reveal something that I'd noticed lately: I've barely taken my daily doses of Prozac over the last few weeks. It wasn't a conscious decision to stop taking it. I quite honestly had forgotten it every day. There have been many days in the past that I've forgotten a day, 2-3 at the most, but I always notice that I'm feeling really tired and then realize that I've skipped a few doses when I sit and think about it. My doctor and I had decided nearly 12 years ago that I'd likely be on Prozac for life, given my personal history (it was my 3rd diagnosed depression at the time) and my family history of depression and suicide. 

Tim scooted his chair away from the kitchen table and turned to face me. He told me that he'd been reluctant to say anything for fear of jinxing things, but that life seemed to be so great right now. Our kids are well-adjusted and happy, his business was going well, our marriage is strong. I've been working out (and enjoying it!), and I have a job that I love. He said, "You just seem so happy." I took a deep breath, and said, "I AM happy!" Just saying the words out loud moved me to tears. But I couldn't help myself; I leaned over and knocked on our butcher block island in the kitchen.

Just like Tim, I've had a fear of giving voice to my happiness. We've all seen the thriller movies, where you're close to the end and the heroes are saying, "Whew! The worst is over; nothing can stop us now!", only to have one final conflict, the biggest they've faced throughout the movie. And we in the audience are saying, "Idiots! You're jinxing yourself!!" It seems that if I say out loud that I'm happy, Satan will bust up in here and say, "Haha!! That's what YOU think!", then all Hell will break loose. Maybe I have a hard time admitting life is wonderful because I don't want to sound cocky or overconfident, or worse, appear to have it all together. Our life here is FAR from perfect. As we were having this conversation, Tim and I were in front of the picture window in our kitchen that gives us a clear view of our very nasty pool that is in serious disrepair. And, because our mower is once again on the fritz, we have the longest grass in our neighborhood right now. Another thing that keeps me silent is knowing that so many people I love are not happy and are struggling just to keep their heads above water. Telling everyone how happy I am would be like flaunting my good fortune. I'm afraid I'd sound selfish and foolish. 

No matter how happy I am, I don't know if I'll ever shake the feeling that the bottom could fall out at any minute. Perhaps it's from the years of having so much illness in my family. I never know when a phone call or text will come in alerting me of the latest health crisis. I've been trained to never get too comfortable with stability. So, I'm taking a big risk here and telling you all that yes, I am very happy right now. Almost deliriously so. I'm working out regularly, because I found a class that is FUN. I haven't lost much weight yet, but my body shape is changing, I'm stronger, and I have more energy. Most important of all, I feel better about myself. My job at Bates Nursery is tougher this spring than it was last fall, but I'm still loving it there, even when I come home and collapse on the couch and tell the family they're on their own for dinner because I'm too exhausted to think, much less move anymore that day. I especially love when I get to help customers put together plant combinations for their pots or landscape. I'm learning so much more than I have from the gardening books I've read over the years. Tim has been and continues to be my rock and the best possible partner for me. I'm still totally in love with him. My kids are AWESOME. I know all parents think that of their kids, but mine really are. Reagan told me the other day of a friend who is always fighting with her parents and how it concerned her. I had to tell her what an abnormal teenager she is that she DOESN'T fight with us. Praise God she's just like her dad, the peacemaker, and not like I was at her age. Pierce continues to do amazingly well in the life skills program at Brentwood High. He inspires us all and is loved by so many. No matter the challenges, he still makes us laugh constantly. He really is a joyful guy. Am I completely done with Prozac? I very seriously doubt it. Even on drugs, winters are always terrible for me. But if I can make it through 3/4 of the year drug-free, I consider that a HUGE breakthrough. I've never been into the "name it and claim it" spiritual practice, but today, I'm laying claim to my joy, my contentment, my peace. And I'm not going to fear what Satan might do to me by saying all this out in the open. 

POSTSCRIPT: On Facebook last week, I tossed around the idea of starting a series on gardening, using knowledge I already possess and the wealth of information I'm gathering at my job. Several of you were in favor of this idea (bless your hearts), so I'm gonna do it. In fact, I think I may just start a separate blog for this purpose and keep this one for my musings on other aspects of my life. Stay tuned! Now to come up with a catchy name...