Psalm 62 declares, “For God alone, my soul waits in silence…”

I remember quite a number of years ago, my wife Robbie took a class at Memorial Presbyterian Church on Christian mediation. It was taught by our friend Marc Craddock. 

After a really basic introduction, Marc asked them to sit in silence for five minutes. You might think, five minutes, no big deal. But Robbie said she felt like she was coming out of her skin! It was really hard. And then she thought to herself: This is a problem. If I can’t sit in silence for even five minutes, something is wrong.

That started her on a path…Silence is now a regular part of her morning routine.

I guess I began my own journey with silence about the same time as Robbie. She kind of dragged me into this mediation thing. Actually, it has been a great thing for me. About a year and a half ago, I wanted to extend and deepen this practice. I decided to undertake a three-day silent retreat at a Trappist monetary up in South Carolina. Going from 20-30 minutes each morning to three full days was not easy! In fact, at the end of the first day, I thought to myself, “I’m going home! I can’t do this!”

But, I’m so glad I stayed. That extended period of silence worked on something deep within me. I felt God’s Spirit stirring in my life. It helped me put together all the pieces of the last few months at the end of my sabbatical. I came out of the time truly feeling as though my soul was restored.

I wonder how our lives would look if we were able to reduce just a little of the noise and chatter around us. If we were able to carve out even a little time each day to sit silently in God’s presence…? What if, for thirty minutes each day, we were to turn off the ringers, the notifications, the TV, the iPad, and listen for that still small voice?

I don’t know how this might look for you. But I do know, if you can find it, it is a gift.

Let us pray: Holy God, as we embrace a moment of stillness even now, we ask for Your presence to envelop us. In the relative quiet, speak to our hearts… Strengthen us. Renew us. Fill us with your peace. Amen.

Today’s message was written by my friend Rev. Roger Kunkel, founder of Dial Hope.

Years ago, on one of the Monday night football telecasts, the sportscasters were discussing the great running backs of professional football history. When they came to the late Walter Payton of the Chicago Bears, they pointed out that he was the all-time leading ground gainer in the National Football League. Then Frank Gifford said, “What a runner! Do you realize that all together, Walter Payton gained more than nine miles rushing in his career? Just imagine that, more than nine miles!” To which to other sportscaster, Dan Dierdorff responded, “And to think that every 4.6 yards of the way, someone was knocking him down!” 

Well, it happens not just in football. It’s true also in life. We do get knocked down a lot. The truth is that every now and then life will break our hearts! And the question is, how do we respond to that? How do we handle the defeats, the problems, the knock-downs, the pain, and endangering ourselves too much? We should follow the model of these men, who carried their friend to the feet of Jesus without accepting any alternatives. 

God can do amazing things. We know this, and we trust in it. And until there is no hope left, we should continue to commend those whom we love into God’s care. We should continue to await a miracle. God loves you, and God loves those whom you love. 

Prayer: Holy God, today I pray for my friends. I am worried about them, and I ask that you be with them. I ask that you bring healing to the damaging situation in their lives. I pray for you to help them, and I ask that you help me to stay with them, and care for them. I pray in Jesus’ name. Amen.

Sometime back in a Daily Walk devotional, there was an interesting list within a message titled, “How to be Miserable.” Sounds like good reading doesn’t it? Here’s part of the list: 

“Think about yourself. Talk about yourself. Use “I” as often as possible. Expect to be appreciated. Be suspicious. Be jealous and envious. Be sensitive to slights. Never forgive a criticism. Trust nobody but yourself. Insist on consideration and respect. Never forget a service you have rendered. Do as little as possible for others.”

In his letter to the Philippians, the Apostle Paul seems to give us the opposite advice. How to be joyful. In fact, this has to be one of his most joy-filled letters – in spite of the fact that he is writing from jail!

In chapter 2, Paul writes, “…make my joy complete… Do nothing from selfish ambition or conceit, but in humility regard others as better than yourselves. Look not to your own interests but to the interest of others.”

Something happens when we get outside ourselves when we move beyond our own issues and concerns, and reach out to help others. And as we shift our energy and thoughts away from ourselves, we gain a larger perspective, and we make room for deeper joy and fulfillment.

Let us pray: God of Hope, some of us today are hurting very deeply. Some of us can’t even begin to imagine moving beyond the pain of the moment to have enough energy to take on other people’s problems. We ask you to meet each of us even now at the point of our deepest need. Surround us with your healing grace. And, even as we are being healed, use us as instruments of your healing and peace for others, fulfilled in your service. For we pray in the name of the One who came that we might have abundant life. Amen. 

Sometime back, a friend was telling me about the summer after his father’s retirement party. His dad had held a prominent position with a big corporation, and that first summer he just went into this deep depression. My friend said it was like his dad woke up one morning and he realized he was no longer Chief Financial Officer – he was just another retiree at his country club. His identity was completely tied up in his work, and when it was time to retire, what was left? 

Sometimes we cling to a certain identity. And that identity may come from our job; or perhaps our political leanings, or perhaps our ability to make money, or even perhaps our identity as parents.

Over the years, I’ve known people who have given everything they are, everything they have into raising their children. And that’s not necessarily a bad thing. But for some people, it’s like that’s the only thing they lived for making sure the children could have what they couldn’t have – or being what they couldn’t be. If the children don’t live up to it – or when they move away – they are left empty. 

Imagine two different families, same town, same day. In one house, when the last child leaves, the husband says, “Honey, lock the doors! We’re going to celebrate!” But in another house, across town, on that same day, when the last child leaves, there is silence, emptiness – because husband and wife haven’t really talked in years. The children have been the only connection they’ve shared, and there’s no other foundation. 

What happens to the person whose identity and meaning are wrapped up in their career when they are downsized or face retirement? What happens to the person whose self-worth is tied up in their physical appearance as they grow older? Or, to the person whose hope for the future is that retirement account when the stock market falls or the medical bills begin to eat up the savings?

Yesterday, we read a passage of scripture in which the Apostle Paul reminds us that these things are fleeting… We don’t know how long they are with us.

It’s not that these things are necessarily bad in and of themselves. In fact, some of them make life rich. It’s just that Paul desperately wants the Corinthians (and us) to place our ultimate hope in something much more solid – something much bigger. And that is in Christ.

A couple of weeks ago, I was at a Wednesday evening dinner, and a friend of our church said to me, “Joe, the main thing is to keep the main thing, the main thing.” 

So true. 

What is the main thing, for you?

Let us pray: We remember that Jesus said that he came that we might have life – and have it in abundance… Help us to keep you at the heart and center of our lives, O God, that abundant life would be ours; through Jesus Christ. Amen. 

In his first letter to the Corinthians, chapter 7, the Apostle Paul writes, “Brothers and sisters, the appointed time has grown short…For the present form of this world is passing away.” (See 1 Corinthians 7:29-31) 

This letter is rich. In this same letter, we have that great passage that is often read at weddings: Love is patient, love is kind… We have the passage about the church being like a body with all the different parts functioning together. We read about spiritual gifts, and there is a beautiful treatise on the hope of the resurrection. The letter is a treasure trove of insight into the human condition and the way in which God in Christ seeks to come into our lives. 

In the background of all of this, there was a deep-seated belief that drove everything else. Paul believed, and these early Christians believed, that Christ would return at any moment; and that God’s kingdom would come in its fullest sense within their lifetimes. This expectation lent a sense of urgency to their lives and ministries.

It is interesting how even today, I’ll often hear people say: I think the end times are near. Look at all the craziness happening in the world… All these signs point to Jesus’ coming back any minute. But people have been saying that since Paul’s day. And truly, we don’t know when…

What we do know is that Paul still hit on a profound truth: We don’t know how long we have. Whether Jesus comes back today, tomorrow, in 500 or even 5000 years, it is an inescapable fact of life that we don’t have forever; that all that is, is temporal, fleeting.

The writer Brian Koppelman makes the point that: “If you look at the great expanse of time, we’re not even a dot… And if you walk through life with the knowledge that one day, everything we love will be here no more, for me, it makes me love harder… more fiercely. It makes me want to be more expansive, more giving, and more connected. It makes me aware of how fortunate I am to be present in this moment…” 

May you and I be the kind of people who go through this life aware of how precarious and precious it all is. May we live with a deep sense of gratitude for the time we have been given, and the time we have left. And, may our relationships, our decisions, and our faith be ever shaped by that insight.

Let us pray: We are grateful, O God, for the gift of this life, and for the promise that in life and in death, we belong to you. In the time we have been given, help us to love more fiercely, to give more generously, to open our hearts more widely, and to build bridges; in Jesus’ name. Amen.