Psalm 30
Some of us know deeply what it’s like
to cry to God for help.
And so we prayed the only prayer we could manage—HELP!
“You know, I hated you in Inside Out.”
Now, I did a double-take inside because my first thoughts were… What? I haven’t been in a musical (this is my first since college days), how could you have hated me in a past performance?… and then I realized she was referring to the character “JOY” in the Pixar animated film Inside Out. In this movie, JOY is portrayed as a character that will not allow any sadness, even when sadness is an appropriate response… JOY keeps pushing sadness out and boxing her in.
So, a second later, I recovered enough from my surprise and defensive reaction to say, “Yes, she was a difficult character, but she learned…”
Not daunted, the woman pressed on in my face, “I had a real problem with her. Sadness is really important.”
Trying to remove myself from being this woman’s target, I said, “Yes… it is. Really, in real life, I’m more like sadness…even though my name is Joy.” And really, the truth of that movie is that the whole swirl of emotions have a needed and necessary role, and that maybe the most valuable memories we carry are those that are a mixture of sadness and joy. We are capable of that complexity.
When we first became parents, our neighbor and then our congregation in Chicago taught us about “love in a dish.” Our neighbor filled our freezer with food while we were in Ethiopia. Good thing, too… because otherwise we would have starved that first week. Each night, I almost cried with fatigue, jet-lag, and gratitude as we ate the food she had there waiting for us. Our congregation signed up and brought us meals periodically for about a month… and then, that happened again here when our baby was born. People came up to our door, dropped off their beautiful gifts, and we knew we were not alone.
We’ve experienced moments in life
where now that we look back, it appears that everything was good, but then it
wasn’t. We took it for granted, and then it was gone.
Psalm 30 says that the Lord meets us
in our suffering -- in the pit. And God does not leave us there, but moves us
from mourning (grief) to morning ("joy comes in the morning").[1]
The person who sings out this psalm
has been delivered from a crisis and invites others to join him or her in
praise. Why? Because when you praise God in response to
what God has done for me, it is a way of restoring me to the
community. When a person goes through a crisis -- an illness, the loss of a
job, the death of a child, a divorce -- it is easy for a person to become
isolated from the community.[2] But when we recognize that
someone is in a new place, it means that they are no longer defined by the ways
they needed help but defined by how they have something to offer (their story).
The Psalmist prays about God’s anger
and favor. God’s anger lasts a moment, God’s favor lasts forever.
It’s not that God is never angry…
there are certain behaviors that rightly cause anger. But, God’s deep, ongoing
love is far more powerful. Sometimes, we
translate the words—“God’s favor is for a lifetime”—another possibility is “in
God’s favor is life,” and really there’s no need to choose between the two possible interpretations, both
are equally possible and the poet likely intended a double meaning[3]...
This summer, at the prompting of
Naomi (our music director, who many of you know is active in the performing
arts world), Abenet and I tried out for the musical Brigadoon with the Rosetown Playhouse. We had our first weekend of
shows this Thursday to Saturday and more are coming next weekend… it’s been a
lot of fun, but when you walk into a room & then spend 12 hours a week with
a group of strangers, you have some interesting encounters…
One day, early in rehearsals, when we
were introducing ourselves to one another… one of the women in the cast said to
me viciously…
Actually, I’ve always understood joy
like that—and I guess with being given that name, I’ve had to wrestle with it (Am
I supposed to always be happy?)—but
as I’ve wrestled with it, I’ve understood joy not as the pursuit of happiness
(and that’s the way I’d say that Pixar presents JOY at first)… but as the deep
gladness that appears as a gift.
Some of you may have seen another
film—Collateral Beauty (it had rotten
reviews, maybe because right now as a culture, we don’t like to cry or expose
any weakness or need any help)—but that story continues to stick with me. A
6-year-old child is dying, and a stranger says to her mother, “Don’t forget to
watch for the collateral beauty.” It took a year for this grieving mother to
even begin to imagine what that might mean, but as the story unfolds, she
explains that she’s experienced it, “Beauty is there in this profound
connection to everything…”
When we need help, it is easy to feel
alone… but we are not alone.
This doesn’t always happen. So many
of us feel isolated in our times of great transitions, whether joy or sorrow,
and it is hard to admit—I need help!—but opening ourselves up to receive is
exactly what Jesus taught disciples to do.
Jesus sent people out into their
daily lives to look for, notice, and receive other people’s hospitality. Even
when they wanted to be the givers, the healers, the ones doing the
transforming, they found themselves coming up short, but then Jesus said things
like this…
You only have five loaves of bread
and two fish? Well, you’re right, that’s completely insignificant in the face
of a crowd of thousands… but what you are not accounting for is God’s
extravagant generosity and God’s ability to work through God’s body—and that’s
all of you.
Each of you—whether you feel powerful
today or depleted, whether you mostly think of yourself as a helper or someone
who needs help, whether you are bowed down by grief or joyfully celebrating the
coming of the morning, even if you feel very alone—you have something to offer.
God meets us in our suffering. And God does not leave us there forever. God brings
beauty, brings joy, brings new life.
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