Southwood Lutheran Church

Reflections on a Sunday Sermon

Use it On Monday, by Michelle DeRusha

Michelle writes a daily blog about finding faith in the everyday at Graceful. On Monday's she reflects on Sunday's sermon in a weekly post entitled "Use it on Monday." She's nice enough to let us re-post it on Southwood's blog. You can read it here each week and then click over to Michelle's blog for more of her writing.

Two Words

I really wanted to go with Deidra and Jennifer to hear Ann Voskamp speak at the Women of Faith conference in Des Moines this past weekend. Really, really.

But I didn’t go. I didn't go because the Holy Spirit told me to stay home. {although for a few days I pretended not to hear}

You see, Brad ran in the Lincoln Mud Run 5K on Saturday morning – a race he’d diligently trained for over the past few months. {and yeah, it’s as gross and grueling as it sounds: slogging through knee-deep mud, scaling walls and squirming beneath obstacles on your belly}. And even though he told me, “Go, go! Really, go to Women of Faith, you don’t need to stay just for the race,” and I knew he meant it, I felt something else in my gut. I felt the Holy Spirit telling me to stay in Lincoln. To go to the race and support my husband.

Fast forward to Sunday morning, when I read this from Psalm 134:

“Come, bless God, all you servants of God!” (Psalm 134:1, Msg)

In fact, I read it twice to make sure I had read it right. Isn’t God the one who does the blessing, I wondered? Isn’t he the one who bestows all good things, and isn’t it our job to praise him and thank him? So what’s this about us blessing him? What kind of blessing can we flawed and insignificant beings offer the all-powerful, all-knowing, all-creating God? These were my questions as I sat in the pew and listened to yesterday’s reading. And truthfully, I didn’t get much of an answer from the pulpit. Or so I initially thought. The problem wasn’t with the sermon, per se. It was simply the fact that I couldn’t understand or hear the minister well. Pastor Mmanga, who is visiting from our sister church in Uswaa, Tanzania, has a beautiful, melodious voice and a thick accent – and as Brad will attest, I do not do well with accents. That, combined with the fact that my left ear is almost entirely blocked from an infection, had me leaning forward in my seat, squinting (because that helps with hearing, right?) and straining to hear the sermon.

When Pastor Mmanga returned to his seat, I realized I’d gotten just two words from his sermon:

Obey. And trust.

But those two words were more than enough. Those two words made all the difference in my understanding of how we flawed and insignificant beings can, in fact, bless God himself. Those two words got me thinking about that crazy Mud Run race again, and the fact that when the Holy Spirit told me to stay home, I actually listened.

You see, when Brad crossed the finish line filthy and soaked, Rowan and I cheering under our umbrellas as the rain came pouring down, I couldn’t have been prouder of him or happier that I’d stayed in Lincoln to watch the race instead of going to Women of Faith (a race in which he finished first place in his age division and in 14th place overall out of more than 700 runners!). And when I heard those two words in Pastor Mmanga’s sermon I knew why:

When we bless God through our obedience and trust, God blesses us, sometimes in the most unexpected ways.

“Come, bless God, all you servants of God! You priests of God, posted to the nightwatch in God’s shrine. Lift your praising hands to the Holy Place, and bless God. In turn, may God of Zion bless you – God who made heaven and earth!” (Psalm 134)

Have you ever imagined that you, yes you, can bless God?!

You can read more of Michelle's writing on her blog Graceful.

 

Live Christ

I have been crucified with Christ and I no longer live, but Christ lives in me. The life I live in the body, I live by faith in the Son of God, who loved me and gave himself for me. (Galatians 2:20 NIV)

At the beginning of June, I attended the Nebraska Synod Assembly. The guest performer for the assembly was Celia Whitler, a singer/songwriter from Tennessee. She travels around the United States performing for many Christian events especially youth gatherings. One of the songs that she taught us at the assembly is called “Live Christ.” It is a simple song with beautiful lyrics. She said she was inspired to write the song by the life of a young girl from Virginia who was killed a week before she was to attend a youth gathering in which Celia was to perform. After the tragedy, testimonies about the life of faith that Nerissa (“Ner”) Hackman had lived flowed in . . .

According to someone who attended her memorial service, “Nerissa’s church had just finished 40 Days of Purpose and Ner provided leadership through several videotaped skits that were playing on a monitor. The skits were hilarious, and she was upbeat and funny. There was also a slide show and scrapbooks of her life. They opened the microphone during the service. Teenager after teenager went forward and talked about Ner—the friend, the encourager, the comforter, the clown, the light in a dark place. No fewer than five girls called Ner their best friend. Many said she was the first person to reach out to them when they came to that school.”¹

Celia says that she was “blown away” by these testimonies. She learned that Nerissa was “born in Germany, she was the younger sister to two brothers. She was a best friend to all, and her faith was her rock.”1 Celia said that “closing the retreat that Sunday morning (at the youth gathering) I knew I had to talk about Ner and our challenge to be inspired by her story. She lived what Jesus taught. She didn’t have to preach it. People followed her example. . . I was captured by Ner’s beauty, not only her outward appearance but also the inner beauty of her faith. Ner knew her purpose—to share Christ—and it continues even after her death.”¹

Hear Celia sing this song on her website: http://www.celiamusic.net/livechrist/

1. Whitler, Celia. On the Way to Somewhere. (Abingdon Press: Nashville, TN, 2006). Pp. 79-80

Reflections on a Sunday Sermon

Use it On Monday, by Michelle DeRusha

Michelle writes a daily blog about finding faith in the everyday at Graceful. On Monday's she reflects on Sunday's sermon in a weekly post entitled "Use it on Monday." She's nice enough to let us re-post it on Southwood's blog. You can read it here each week and then click over to Michelle's blog for more of her writing.

Why Can't We Just Get Along?

How wonderful, how beautiful, when brothers and sisters get along. (Psalm 133:1, Msg.)

It sounds lovely, doesn’t it? It sounds easy and simple and true.

Yet the reality is, so often we don’t get along. We nitpick about differences in doctrine. We point fingers at others’ flaws. We decide who’s a sinner and who isn’t. We vow to boycott chicken sandwiches or to not boycott chicken sandwiches, and we judge those who don’t do the same.

Really? Is this really what God wants from us? To separate ourselves from “others?” To hang with the “in” crowd and avoid everyone else? To notice the sliver in another’s eye and ignore the log in our own? To bicker and gripe and tear down instead of build up?

Yesterday, right in the middle of Pastor Sara’s sermon on Psalm 133, I heard a commotion toward the back of the church, and when I turned to look over my shoulder I glimpsed an elderly man being carried down the aisle and out into the lobby. Two men gripped the man’s arms and two men carried his legs, as the man’s wife (I presume) hurried behind. A few minutes later I heard a siren just outside the sanctuary windows.

I don’t know for sure what happened to the man. All I know is that when he showed signs of distress during worship, four men, undoubtedly strangers, jumped to his aid and literally carried him to safety.

And that, I thought, as I sat in the pew, is the perfect metaphor for Psalm 133.

That is exactly what God expects from each one of us – and not just with our fellow church members and our own friends and family, but with every one of our brothers and sisters in our neighborhood, in our nation and in our world. He expects that we will stand in the gap, come to one another’s aid, lift up and encourage, support and pray for.

In short, God expects that we will carry others when they are unable to carry themselves.

As I write this blog post, my prayer journal is open next to me on the bed, and I read the verses I jotted last week as I studied 1 Thessalonians. Next to the verses I’d scrawled: lessons for living --

Live in a way that pleases God. (4:1)

Encourage each other and build each other up. (5:11)

Live peacefully with each other. (5:13)

Take tender care of the weak. (5:14)

Be patient with everyone. (5:14)

Always try to do good to each other and to all people. (5:15)

These are the basic human principles Jesus cared about and it’s what God wants us to care about, too. And while this list from 1 Thessalonians is more specific, isn’t this the essence of Psalm 133? Isn’t this what God has in mind when he praises us for living harmoniously with our brothers and sisters? Aren’t these the instructions for how to get along?

Harmony, God tells us, is a precious as oil and as refreshing as dew. And it’s no coincidence that there, right in the midst of harmony, God pronounces his blessing:

How wonderful and pleasant it is when brothers live together in harmony! For harmony is as precious as the anointing oil that was poured over Aaron's head, that ran down his beard and onto the border of his robe. Harmony is as refreshing as the dew from Mount Hermon that falls on the mountains of Zion. And there the Lord has pronounced his blessing, even life everlasting. (Psalm 133, NLT)

You can read more of Michelle's writing on her blog Graceful.

 

Give Thanks

He gives strength to the weary and increases the power of the weak. (Isaiah 40:29 NIV)

This Sunday we sing the worship song “Give Thanks” during communion. It is especially appropriate to “Give Thanks” as we celebrate the meal together that Christ blessed and whose gift of love we remember. Notice also the lyric that says “let the weak say ‘I am strong’”—it reminds me of a line from the childhood song “Jesus Loves Me” . . . “they are weak but he is strong . . .”

“Human-made religions center on what people can do for their god. But Christianity centers on what God has done for us. He gives us His Son, as a continual source of comfort and freedom, even when we have nothing to offer in return. To receive Him, we only need to let go of trying to save ourselves and rely on Him alone to save us.

This requires admitting our weaknesses and allowing God to use them to show Himself strong. That’s humbling! And oh how we fight it. We want to be loved for being so good, not for being so needy. Yet God knows this is exactly what we are. Instead of being put off by our inabilities, He encourages us to come to Him. He knows that only people who have come to the end of themselves rely on Him. God has a limitless supply of hope and strength for people who recognize their need. No matter now ‘poor’ we may feel, we are the richest people in the world, all because of what the Lord has done for us. For this we give thanks.”¹

1. Carsten, Debbie. Open the Eyes of My Heart: Daily Devotions. (Brentwood, TN: Integrity Publishers, 2002.) Pg. 181.

Reflections on a Sunday Sermon

Use it On Monday, by Michelle DeRusha

Michelle writes a daily blog about finding faith in the everyday at Graceful. On Monday's she reflects on Sunday's sermon in a weekly post entitled "Use it on Monday." She's nice enough to let us re-post it on Southwood's blog. You can read it here each week and then click over to Michelle's blog for more of her writing.

Obedience is a Gift

Last February, knowing it would probably be the last time he would see his dad, Brad asked me to go with him on his final visit to the hospice in Minnesota. The trip was only possible because my mom had flown in from Massachusetts to help with the kids. The plan was that Brad and I would travel to Minneapolis on Saturday and be back in Nebraska again before school on Monday morning.

I wrestled with whether to go or not. I knew what the right decision was. I knew what I should do, what I needed to do. I felt the answer as clear as any I’d ever felt in my heart. 

But I didn’t go.

I stayed home with my mom and the kids while Brad traveled to Minnesota alone. It was the last time he saw his dad. Jon died four days later.

I told my mom, Brad, my friends and anyone who would listen that I didn’t go to Minnesota because of the boys. They were acting out more than usual, I explained. They were clearly anxious and grieving their grandfather’s terminal illness and impending death. I needed to stay home with them, I reasoned. Two grieving, unruly boys were too much for my mom to handle alone.

This was all true. The boys were suffering; their behavior was more volatile than usual. But that wasn’t the real reason I didn’t go to Minnesota.

I didn’t go because I was afraid.

Afraid to face death, again, just 15 months after losing Brad’s mom. Afraid to face my father-in-law, with his ravaged, emaciated body. Afraid to say goodbye, to say thank you. Afraid to witness my husband’s raw grief. Afraid I wouldn’t know how to comfort him.

I didn’t go with my husband to Minnesota to be with him when he said goodbye to his father because I was afraid. I didn’t get to tell Jon how much I loved him in person because I was afraid. 

And that is, hands-down, my biggest regret thus far in life.

When Pastor Michael preached on the theme of obedience yesterday after we read Psalm 132, this story, a story ofdisobedience, is the one that sprang almost instantly to my mind.

You see, I knew without any doubt what the Holy Spirit was prompting me to do that weekend. I felt the answer in my heart. I knew it in my innermost depths. And yet I disobeyed because I felt the calling was too hard, too ugly., too terrifying. I was weak. I faltered in my faith. I doubted that God would see me through. 

“Obedience is a gift, a gift of faith,” said Pastor Michael during yesterday’s sermon.

Back in February I let fear instead of faith prevail. Instead of trusting God, I fled. Instead of obeying the Holy Spirit and surrendering to the will of God, I relied only on myself. I thought I would have to face fear and death alone. I forgot God was with me. I turned away from the gift when it was offered to me. 

In the end, my disobedience was a grave disappointment. I know that Jon didn’t hold my decision against me, nor does Brad. But I still struggle to let it go. Now that time has passed I’m able to see more clearly how God would have held me by the hand, in spite of my fear and hesitation. In spite of my weakness. 

God would have led me through that terribly difficult visit. If only I’d had the faith to obey.

"When you are disobedient, you are trying to keep some part of your life under your own control. Somewhere in your heart you are refusing to listen to his call." —Dietrich Bonhoeffer

What about you? Have you ever learned a hard lesson about obedience and faith?

You can read more of Michelle's writing on her blog Graceful.

 

I Surrender All

“Whoever does not take up the cross and follow me is not worthy of me. Those who find their life will lose it, and those who lose their life for my sake will find it.” (Matthew 10:38-39 NRSV)

“I Surrender All” was written by Judson Wheeler Van De Venter, an artist and musician from Michigan. After he felt God leading him to switch his career to evangelism, he fell to his knees and prayed: “Lord, if you want me to give my full time to Thy work, I’ll do it, I surrender all to Thee.”¹ He would later write this hymn in remembrance of that experience. What does it mean to “surrender all”? Are you willing to “surrender all?"

“Surrender is an odd word. In common usage, there is no sense of the word that has positive connotations. We surrender our legal rights in contractual disputes. We surrender ourselves to loss and grief. And although surrendering ourselves to our enemies in war may in fact save lives—even our own—deep down we know that what we have surrendered is our dignity, our pride. To surrender is to diminish ourselves; to become less than what we were.

Yet for Christians, it is in the essence of this word that we find redemption and renewal. It should tell us something about the God we serve that even language itself becomes redeemed through the cross of Christ. To the believer, words like ‘less,’ ‘weak,’ die,’ and ‘surrender’—words that normally denote failure—convey instead the very life of God. But if language itself undergoes conversion, it is only because there is real, ontological change that occurs when God acts.”²

1. Morgan, Robert. Then Sings My Soul. (Nashville, TN: Thomas Nelson, 2003) pg. 239.
2. Schulz-Widmar, Russell, editor. Praises Abound. (New York: Church Publishing, 2012) pp. 45-46.

Thy Word

Your word is a lamp to my feet and a light for my path. (Psalm 119:105 NIV)

“Thy Word” is a very popular song written by Amy Grant and Michael W. Smith many years ago now. It is based directly this verse from Psalm 119. It is one of those songs that many of our youth know and so listen for those young voices singing this song in worship. It is good that they have learned this psalm verse by singing this song and I hope that is also helps them to know that they can trust God to give them Light for the journey.

"'Thy word is a lamp.’ God’s word helps me find my way in the dark and not get lost. Sometimes we want to know what God has in store next week, next month, next year, for the rest of my life. Why doesn’t God reveal the whole blueprint right now? But how far can you see with just a lamp? In Bible times, to get around you had to carry fire, a torch, a lantern, or you’d fall on the rocks or traipse off into a hole. And with a Bronze Age lantern—not one of those brilliant outdoor beacons campers use nowadays—how far ahead could you see? Not far. But far enough. You see well enough to take the next step, and the next step. The end of the road is all darkness. But it will be lit when you get near enough. . .

Where will God lead you and me? We do not know yet. Faith is risky: we leave the cocoon of our preplanned, carefully managed lives and go—where? We do not know yet. Wherever God leads, that is where we will go. But we know whom we are following, and we want to be near him, and that is enough, for he is the fullness of life; he is the way, the truth, and the life.”¹

1. Howell, James C. 40 Treasured Bible Verses: A Devotional. (Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox Press, 2011) pg. 97.

Amen, We Praise Your Name

This Sunday in worship we will sing a song the kids learned at Vacation Bible School this year, “Amen Siakudumisa.” The VBS mission project this year was to create prayer postcards for children in Tanzania. Singing a song from Africa helped kids continue that connection to a new culture in an exciting way! The kids learned the song both in Xhosa and in English. Today we’ll ask the congregation to begin learning this song in English! The Xhosa text “Amen Siakudumisa” means “Amen praise the name of the Lord.”

We know this composition by Stephen Cuthbert Molefe (1917-1987) through the work of David Dargie (b. 1937), one of South Africa’s most influential ethnomusicologists. A Roman Catholic priest for many years, Fr. Dargie observed that many priests resorted to using European or North American melodies they knew and ignored the rich heritage of South African music, especially the music of the Xhosa and Zulu peoples. For example, the venerable Latin chant “Tantum Ergo Sacramentum” (a communion hymn attributed to St. Thomas Aquinas), was sung in one parish to “My Darling Clementine”!

For Fr. Dargie, a white South African of Scots-Irish lineage, part of the liberation of black South Africans from the political oppression of apartheid was to encourage them to sing their Christian faith with their own music rather than in the musical idioms of their colonial oppressors. In the decades immediately following the reforms of the Second Vatican Council (1962-65), Fr. Dargie was among many who encouraged Africans to find their own voice in congregational singing. He sponsored workshops throughout southern Africa with indigenous musicians, giving them specific texts from the Mass and asking them to compose music to fit the melodic contour and rhythmic structure of the words. Since most African languages are tonal, a melodic shape emerges directly from speaking the text.

Stephen Molefe was among the first South African musicians that Fr. Dargie worked with in these workshops. Molefe was born of Sotho descent in the Transkei area of the Eastern Cape Province, South Africa. A choirmaster at the Catholic Church, he was not only a skilled musician but also fluent in a variety of South African languages including Sotho, Xhosa, Zulu, Tswana, Afrikaans and English. Fr. Dargie met Molefe in 1977 at a composition workshop and transcribed a number of his works into staff notation. They include a wide variety of musical styles, “Amen Siakudumisa” being among the simplest. Designed to be sung as the “Amen” at the conclusion of the Great Thanksgiving (the Eucharist liturgy), it was an instant hit, with the whole parish singing it at Holy Week services. “Amen, Siakudumisa” is included very often in Western hymnal collections alongside famous South African freedom songs like “Siyahamba (We are Marching in the Light of God).” In 1978, Molefe was attacked, robbed and struck with a brick to the head. He started to go blind after that, and was unable to work again. Molefe died in 1987.¹

1. Hawn, C. Michael. “HISTORY OF HYMNS: Hymn expresses rhythm, harmony of African legacy.” The United Methodist Reporter website: http://www.umportal.org/article.asp?id=2583 Site visited June 26, 2012.

Oh, Sing to the Lord

Come and see what God has done: he is awesome in his deeds among mortals. He turned the sea into dry land; they passed through the river on foot. (Psalm 66:5-6 NRSV)

“O Sing to the Lord” is a hymn that celebrates the wondrous acts of God and “calls forth exuberant praise from God’s people.”¹ The melody is infectious and joyful, but it also suggests a longing for God’s justice and shalom to be completed. It is a song of Brazilian origin, which was made available by Gerhard Cartford. Cartford was born in Madagascar, educated in the United States, and is an “influential Lutheran church musician, writer, and professor of music and liturgics (Texas Lutheran College and Luther-Northwestern Seminary, St. Paul, Minnesota). He also was a Fulbright scholar studying folk music and hymnody and lived for many years in South America.”¹

“In November 1982 Gerhard Cartford and his wife went to a meeting of Brazilian Lutheran pastors in Itupuranga, Santa Catarina, in southern Brazil. The new hymnal Hinos do Povo de Deus (1981) they were using contained this hymn, and they sang it. Cartford says that ‘the song was well known in Brazil and sung frequently. I was strongly attracted to it, so when we got back to Buenos Aires, Argentina, where we were living then, I translated it from Portuguese to Spanish, and we began to sing it in Argentine Lutheran churches. Later, I translated it also to English and introduced it in the U.S. when we were home on furlough.’”²

1. Sing! A New Creation, Leader’s Edition. (Faith Alive Christian Resource: Grand Rapids, MI, 2002) Hymn No. 224
2. Westermeyer, Paul. Hymnal Companion: Evangelical Lutheran Worship. (Minneapolis, MN: Augsburg Fortress, 2010.) pg. 698.

Reflections on a Sunday Sermon

Use it On Monday, by Michelle DeRusha

Michelle writes a daily blog about finding faith in the everyday at Graceful. On Monday's she reflects on Sunday's sermon in a weekly post entitled "Use it on Monday." She's nice enough to let us re-post it on Southwood's blog. You can read it here each week and then click over to Michelle's blog for more of her writing.

In Awe of God's Yes

I’ve never been a go-with-the-flow, contented, optimistic person. For as long as I can remember, I’ve been a bit disgruntled, prone to negativity and discontent, restless and anxious.

Back in the 18th century I probably would have been diagnosed with melancholia – a little too much black bile.

In the 19th century it would have been the vapors, or perhaps hysteria. I might have been prescribed the rest cure (bring it on, I say).

In the 21st century, of course, my malady is defined as depression and anxiety. I take medication for this. I have every day for the last six years – except for the two weeks a couple of years ago when I quit cold turkey and went all sorts of crazy. We won’t be trying that again.

My point is, I’ve struggled with being happy for pretty much my entire life. I’m not naturally happy. I’m not naturally content. I worry a lot. I’ve bitten my fingernails since the third grade; I suffered from an ulcer when I was in high school. I get tension headaches and eye twitching and irritable bowel and TMJ (shall I go on?) – all products of anxiety.

But (if you're still reading) it’s not all bad news.

I’ve realized recently that what’s impacted my ongoing pursuit of joy and contentment the most in recent years (in addition to the anti-depressant, of course) is the daily practice of thanksgiving.

The truth is – and this is going to sound really basic and more than a little obvious – a person can’t be ungrateful and thankful at the same time. It’s simply not possible to hold both a disgruntled, ungrateful thought in your mind simultaneously with a thankful thought. And so, as it goes, the more thankful I am, the more frequently I consciously offer gratitude and thanksgiving to God, the less inclined I am to be negative.

The act of being thankful has simply created less time, less opportunity, less room for negativity. Gratefulness has crowded out, overpowered, ingratitude.

I know I make gratitude sound scientific and pragmatic, but for me, it is a pragmatic process, because pragmatic works for me. I need an intentional practice, a formula, so to speak, because I am stubborn, and because my brain has been accustomed to working one way – on negative, anxious auto-pilot – for decades. The practice of daily – hourly, minute-by-minute – thanksgiving has retrained my brain.

The intentional practice of giving thanks has broken the cycle of discontent.

I had a revelation during yesterday’s reading of Psalm 128 in church:

"All you who fear God, how blessed you are! How happily you walk on his smooth straight road! You worked hard and deserve all you’ve got coming. Enjoy the blessing! Revel in the goodness! …Stand in awe of God’s Yes. Oh, how he blesses the one who fears God. Enjoy the good life in Jerusalem every day of your life.” (1-2, 4-5, The Message).

In the past, if I'd heard those words, I would have assumed they were meant for someone else. “Yada, yada, yada, whatever,” I would have thought. “Those blessings, that joy, it’s not for me. I’m just not made that way.”

You know what? Yesterday when I listened to the words from Psalm 128 I thought, “Yes.” Yes! Yes! Yes! I am blessed. I walk happily. I revel in this goodness.

And why? Why? Because I am thankful. It really is that simple. I give thanks, again and again and again, for God’s Yes. He rains these yeses on me, day in and day out, in every aspect of my life. And I say yes in return.

I stand in awe of God’s Yes.

Has the practice of thanksgiving changed your life or outlook in any way?

You can read more of Michelle's writing on her blog Graceful.