God With Us, In The Pit
Children's sermon
Illustration
Preaching
Sermon
Worship
The problem of human pain and how to alleviate it has been a great challenge throughout the ages, one that has led to major advances in medical science from anesthetics to various forms of painkilling drugs. With a rapidly aging baby boomer generation plus an increasing number of wounded veterans returning from Iraq -- many with devastating injuries that would likely have been fatal in previous conflicts -- it seems that more people than ever before are suffering from chronic pain, both physical and psychic. A recent Newsweek cover story details some of the research that is opening new avenues for the medical treatment of pain -- and in this installment of The Immediate Word, team member Carlos Wilton reminds us that while these treatments may have varying degrees of effectiveness, one antidote we can rely on is the knowledge that God is with us and shares our experience. Indeed, the good news is that God is unmistakably present in the midst of our pain. This week's lectionary psalm (Psalm 30) also provides a powerful metaphor for pain in its references to the Pit of Sheol, and team member Scott Suskovic reflects on how our eternal Father's love provides us with a way out when we find ourselves in a deep, painful pit. As usual, this installment also includes related illustrations, worship resources, and a children's sermon.
God With Us, In the Pit
by Carlos Wilton
Luke 7:11-17
THE WORLD
C.S. Lewis once wrote: "God whispers to us in our pleasure, speaks to us in our conscience, but shouts to us in our pain; it is his megaphone to rouse a deaf world." There's something about the experience of pain that turns our thoughts Godward -- or, to look at it another way, perhaps it is in our pain that God most clearly comes to us, shouting to us in order that we may not mistake how very much we are loved.
After Jesus raises the son of the widow of Nain in Luke 7:11-17, the people exclaim, "God has looked favorably on his people!" Older translations -- actually, more literal -- say, "God has visited his people." It is in times of pain that many of us report the experience of being visited by God, in the sense that we are acutely aware of God's presence.
The June 4, 2007 Newsweek cover story is "The Changing Science of Pain". Wounded soldiers returning from Iraq, some of them with "phantom pain" from amputated limbs, are testing medical science's understanding of pain and its origins. One in five Americans suffers from "chronic pain" -- a mysterious malady that defies both explanation and treatment. The experience of such patients has led doctors to a paradigm-busting change in the way they view pain: not as a symptom of something else, but as a disease in its own right. Pain Management is fast becoming a leading medical specialty.
Those who have had to live with pain in the long term may choose to describe it in biblical terms: as "the Pit" (in the language of one of today's psalms, Psalm 30). The good news of the gospel is that God visits us -- even in the Pit.
THE WORD
There is no synoptic parallel to this miracle-story. It closely follows 1 Kings 17:17-24 (Elijah's raising of the son of the widow of Zarephath) -- which, as is no accident, is the First Lesson appointed for this Sunday. In telling a story that so closely parallels this notable miracle performed by one of Israel's greatest prophets, Luke is establishing Jesus as belonging to the same illustrious company. Hence, the reaction of the people in verse 16: "A great prophet has arisen among us!" The onlookers are astute enough to make the same connection.
Commenting on Luke 7:11-17 in their Social-Science Commentary on the Synoptic Gospels (Fortress Press, 2003, p. 253), Bruce J. Malina and Richard L. Rohrbaugh describe the dire circumstances of the widow of Nain: "This is a woman in trouble. Since no family connection remained, such a woman's life expectancy was extremely short. In antiquity, the closest emotional bond was normally between mother and son, not husband and wife; a son was a mother's lifelong protector and her ultimate social security.... Note especially that the "healing" in this story is focused not so much on the raising of the dead son, which in a way is incidental to the narrative, but on restoration of the mother, whose place in the community is reborn when the son rises."
In our culture, we tend to focus on the woman's personal grief at losing a son. Such pain is certainly real: yet, as Malina and Rohrbaugh remind us, there is so much more going on here, from a sociological perspective. In raising the boy, Jesus raises the mother as well.
He does this at some risk to himself -- or at least to his budding reputation as a holy man. Malina and Rohrbaugh remind us that "[t]ouching the bier of a dead person as Jesus does here was considered defiling." There is no need for Jesus to reach out and touch this stretcher-like carrier on which the son's body lies in repose, but he does anyway. His action is reminiscent of a mourner at a graveside service who reaches out and touches the casket-lid, in a way richly symbolic of the desire to maintain contact with the deceased. Such gestures are very sad and poignant, of course. Even those who make them know, on an intellectual level, that they are not actually touching their loved one. Yet the desire for touch, for human contact with the loved one remains. When Jesus -- heedless of the ritual uncleanliness he will bring down upon himself -- touches the boy's bier, he is taking his place amongst those who are deeply saddened and touched by his passing. It is an action of true compassion.
The word "compassion" (splagchnizoimai), which Luke uses in verse 13, is a rich source for word-studies. It's related to the word for bowels or intestines -- Jesus literally feels the pain of the widow's grief in his gut. The proper course, for a distinguished rabbi such as he, would be to maintain a studied aloofness -- but the Savior of the world will have none of that.
The theme of God's visitation (episkeptomai) to the people (v. 16) also occurs in Luke 1:68 and 19:44, and Acts 15:14. Sometimes it's translated "looked favorably on" rather than "visited," but that's because the Greek word contains within it the assumption that the reason one person visits another is because of a favorable inclination. In a world in which travel was difficult and even dangerous, one does not just casually drop in on someone, as we may do from time to time. To visit another is to demonstrate one's regard for the other.
CRAFTING THE SERMON
A sermon on this passage could begin with a reflection on pain, and the role it plays in our lives. Most people facing surgery or other medical treatment -- from the child afraid of a shot, to the hospice patient asking for morphine -- are eager to avoid pain. From the earliest human history, anesthetic substances were greatly valued: from the Andean shaman distributing coca leaves, to the Chinese, who discovered the soporific effects of opium, to the naval surgeon giving a prospective amputee a swig of rum. It was not until the advent of ether and chloroform in the mid-19th century, however, that we began to believe that we could be the masters of pain -- that pain could be controlled, not merely endured.
Today, as the Newsweek article referenced above reminds us, medical experts are beginning to look on pain as a medical disorder in itself, one that can be directly treated (as opposed to a symptom of something else). We are among the first generations in human history to believe it's actually possible to live a life that's more or less pain-free. There are some, in fact, who think that the greater emphasis on corporal punishment of children in earlier generations was partly in order to give them experience in stoically bearing pain. An occasional beating was thought to be intrinsically character-building. (Thankfully, those days are behind us!)
So where is God when pain does come to us? Where was God for the widow of Nain, who had to endure the pain not only of her son's death, but also of the utter destruction of her economic and social position in society?
The answer is, God was with her -- in the person of Jesus Christ, who did not just stonily gaze in the direction of her son's body, but rather reached out and touched the bier on which he lay... then went on to raise him to renewed life.
Certain experiences in life, as the author of Psalm 30 reminds us, are reminiscent of "the Pit" (v. 3). One of the best modern literary expressions of the horrors of the Pit is this passage from Wendell Berry:
Imagine a hunter, somebody from a city some distance away, who has a job he doesn't like, and who has come alone out into the country to hunt on a Saturday. It is a beautiful, perfect fall day, and the Man feels free. He has left all his constraints and worries and fears behind. Nobody knows where he is. Anybody who wanted to complain or accuse or collect a debt could not find him. The morning that started frosty has grown warm. The sky seems to give its luster to everything in the world. The Man feels strong and fine. His gun lies ready in the crook of his arm, though he really doesn't care whether he finds game or not. He has a sandwich and a candy bar in his coat pocket. And then, not looking where he is going, which is easy enough on such a day, he steps onto the rotten boards that cover one of those old wells, and down he goes.
He disappears suddenly out of the lighted world. He falls so quickly that he doesn't have time even to ask what is happening. He hits water, goes under, comes up, swims, or clings to the wall, inserting his fingers between the rocks. And now, I think, you cannot help imagining the way it would be with him. He looks up and sees how far down he has come. The sky that was so large and reassuring only seconds ago is now just a small blue picture of itself, far away. His first thought is that he is alone, that nobody knows where he is; these two great pleasures that were his freedom have now become his prison, perhaps his tomb. He calls out (for might not somebody chance to be nearby, just as he chanced to fall into the well?) and he hears himself enclosed within the sound of his own calling voice.
How does this story end? Does he save himself? Is he athletic enough, maybe, to get his boots off and climb out, clawing with fingers and toes into the grudging holds between the rocks of the wall? Does he climb up and fall back? Does somebody, in fact, for a wonder, chance to pass nearby and hear him? Does he despair, give up, and drown? Does he, despairing, pray finally the first true prayer of his life?
Listen. There is a light that includes our darkness, a day that shines down even on the clouds. A man of faith believes that the Man in the Well is not lost. He does not believe this easily or without pain, but he believes it. His belief is a kind of knowledge beyond any way of knowing. He believes that the child in the womb is not lost, nor is the man whose work has come to nothing, nor is the old woman forsaken in a nursing home in California. He believes that those who make their bed in Hell are not lost, or those who dwell in the uttermost parts of the sea, or the lame man at Bethesda Pool, or Lazarus in the grave, or those who pray, "Eli, Eli, lama sabachthani."
Have mercy.
-- Wendell Berry, Jayber Crow (Counterpoint, 2000), pp. 356-357
One of our deepest convictions, as people of faith, is that we are not alone, as the traumas of life overtake us. The Lord has visited us, as Jesus visited Nain of old -- and he continues to visit us. In the famous words of J.B. Phillips -- often quoted at Christmastime, in sermons on the Incarnation -- ours is a "visited planet."
Let us strive to live as though that's really true.
ANOTHER VIEW
The Pit
by Scott Suskovic
Psalm 30
To you, O Lord, I cried, and to the Lord I made supplication: "What profit is there in my death, if I go down to the Pit? Will the dust praise you? Will it tell of your faithfulness? Hear, O Lord, and be gracious to me! O Lord, be my helper!" (Psalm 30:8-10)
When is the last time you were in the pit? Not just a little bump in the road or a really bad day, but a in a deep, dark pit? Could be an extended unemployment. Could be a disease, death, depression, family problems. There are many different kinds of pits. When is the last time you were in a pit and said: "I cry before you, I plead with you, O Lord. If only you would hear me." Remember?
Now, do you remember what questions you were asking or how you felt? Did you think as you sat there in the darkness: "Have I sinned so deeply, have I erred so greatly that there is no coming back home? Has God turned his back on me forever?"
The Psalmist writes of the reality of the pit. But see with what permission the author writes. Our faith is not one that sugarcoats the pit. Our faith is not one that merely whistles in the dark. Our faith is not one that simply puts on a happy face. The Psalmist reminds us that God is big enough to handle our finger-pointing, our fist-pounding, and our tear-stained cheeks. You have permission from God's Word to get angry, to cry, and to feel bad. After all, you're in the pit.
When you are in the pit, what do you need? When I was in high school my dad fell from a ladder and onto the concrete. The x-ray of his heel looked like a china plate dropped on tile. He was in two casts for months, and was out of a job for a long time. One well-meaning person from church told my mom that her cousin did the same thing. She told my mom, "He never walked again." Folks, when you are speaking to someone in the pit, don't try to make yours deeper and darker to make them feel better. That doesn't work. They need to know that someone has been there before and has lived to tell about it.
When you are in the pit, what don't you need? You don't need cute little pat answers about how it's going to be just fine. In fact, those simple answers do more harm than good. What else don't you need? You don't need advice. You don't need a coach. You don't need a cheerleader.
But what do you need? What do you need when you are asking tough questions about real suffering? What do you need when you feel abandoned by your friends and full of guilt or shame? What do you need when you feel that you are so deep in a pit that you can't even see the light of the coming day? What do you need when you have to remind yourself to take that next breath?
I remember asking that question to a Bible study once, and one woman immediately said, "Nothing. You need to feel a hug. You need God with skin on him." She put it well. You need to know that you are not alone. You need someone to get in the pit, make that phone call, invite you out to lunch, and remind you that you are not alone. People in the pit are not looking for good advice. They don't expect clever answers. They don't want a perky cheerleader. They need to know that they are not alone. They need God with skin. They need to know that they are not alone.
Amnesty International tells the story of one American man in an overseas prison, held without bond, without reason, without cause. One day the guard begrudgingly tossed him a scrap of paper. The prisoner read the short note. All it said was: "We know you are here. We will never forget. -- Amnesty International" That short note to remind him that he was not forgotten or alone got him through his awful ordeal.
Scripture provides us with an even better assurance. From the Bible, we can say several things about the pit. First, God is the God of the Pit. He has come not to throw down a flashlight and a ladder. It's much too dark and steep for that. He has come not to yell down instructions. It's too overwhelming for that. He came not to be your cheerleader. It's too exhausting for a pep talk. He has come to do what he asks us to do for others -- get in the pit, wrap his arms around you, make his presence known. He has come not to show you the way out but to be the way out of the pit.
Our Savior knows something about the pit. He knows the darkness. He knows the solitude when, nailed to a cross and left to die, he cried out from his own pit, "My God, my God, why have your forsaken me?" You see, the questions are the same whether you are unemployed or sick, grieving or in pain, in exile or on a cross. The questions, the feelings, the suffering are the same: "My God, my God why have you forsaken me?" Jesus is the savior of the pit who understands because he has been there... and is there next to you in the pit to see you through the darkness and into the light of a new day.
In one particular Indian tribe, the rite of passage for a young boy to enter adulthood was to spend the night alone lost in the forest. The older men would escort the young lad deep into the woods on a moonless night until he was totally disoriented. And then they would abandon him. Imagine that, a little boy, 10-12 years old, spending the night alone in the woods with his back against a big oak tree, knees tucked under his chin and eyes that never blink. Life is scary in the pit.
As the night finally passes, and the first hint of dawn emerges, the boy can make out a figure a couple of yards away from him. At first he doesn't move. He doesn't know what it is. But then as the light slowly emerges he realizes it's his dad who has spent the whole night next to him with spear in hand to make sure that nothing... nothing was going to hurt his boy that night. Not on his watch.
I know that when you are in the pit, it's hard to feel that presence. The questions cast doubt, the feelings create fear, the need goes by unmet. But the promise is still there. I am with you... always. And neither life nor death nor angels nor things present nor things to come will be able to separate you from the love of God in Christ Jesus. Not on his watch. Not on his eternal watch.
ILLUSTRATIONS
As followers of our Lord Jesus Christ, we are sometimes -- or even often -- called to bear sorrow and pain. Dietrich Bonhoeffer, the German pastor who was martyred by the Nazis during World War II, wrote:
"The disciple community does not shake off sorrow as though it were no concern of its own, but willingly bears it. And in this way they show how close are the bonds which bind them to the rest of humanity. But at the same time they do not go out of their way to look for sorrow and suffering, or try to contract out of it by adopting an attitude of contempt or disdain. They simply bear the suffering which comes their way as they try to follow Jesus Christ, and bear it for his sake."
-- Dietrich Bonhoeffer, The Cost of Discipleship (Macmillan, 1969), p. 122
***
"Put your hand in the hand of the man who stilled the waters, put your hand in the hand of the man who calmed the sea" the song says, and many people have found this the way to get themselves through a difficult and painful time.
When pain strikes -- whether it be physical, mental, emotional, or of whatever kind -- when pain strikes, we can reach out and know that our Lord is holding onto our hand and will never let us go. He promises us, "I will never leave you nor forsake you."
The next time pain strikes, put your hand in the hand of the man who stilled the waters.
***
Remember the TV commercial where someone says that they don't have time for the pain, so they take the analgesic manufactured by the sponsor of the program and in moments they're feeling fine again? Unfortunately you and I can't always get rid of our pain that easily.
Sometimes we don't have time for the pain that comes roaring at us either, but it attacks us anyway. Pain can be one of the hardest experiences that we'll ever have to go through.
Our Lord understands pain. From the time he was arrested in the Garden of Gethsemane until he breathed his last and committed his spirit to his Father, Jesus was subjected to more and more pain, pain beyond our imagining.
Where did he find the strength to bear up under all this pain? Even though he cried out, "My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?" he knew that his loving Father had been with him all his life, and that in a little while the pain would be over and he would be in his Father's caring presence again.
We can know the same thing. Weeping may last for the night, the Psalm tells us, but joy comes in the morning. Our loving God will not fail us.
***
In our age, as in any other, the healing ministry of Christ's body, the church, has to engage with and grapple with the problem of suffering and pain, which is the experience of so many people in the world. We cannot trivialize it by saying, "Never mind, your pain will make you a better person," or bypass it by saying, "You may not understand, but in God's greater plan your suffering is acceptable." Nor can we zap it with magic. The church is not into mumbo-jumbo. We have to take it seriously, and it is only when we take the mystery of suffering seriously that we begin to see the face of Christ in it all. Healing is not about curing -- it is about wholeness. Health is not about perfection but about reconciliation.
-- Kate McIlhagga, from Praying for the Dawn (Wild Goose Publications, 2000)
***
We are never left abandoned when we are in the Pit/Sheol. In the TV drama The West Wing, one of the characters, Josh Bartlett, is going through a time when he feels he has to face a crisis all on his own. Another character, his mentor and boss Leo McGarry, stops him one day and, to make Josh understand he is not on this journey alone, tells him the following story:
A fellow is walking home one night and slips and falls into a deep hole. He tries his best, but he cannot get out.
Just then, a lawyer walks by. "Hey buddy," calls the man down in the pit, "can you help me out?" The lawyer just drops his business card down to the man and keeps going down the street.
A little later, a priest comes by. "Father," yells the man, "I'm down here. Can you give me a hand?" The priest writes a prayer on a piece of paper and throws it down to the man.
Sometime later, a friend comes by. He sees his friend down at the bottom of the hole and immediately jumps in. "What did you do that for?" cries the first man. "Now we're both down here."
"Yeah," says his friend. "But I've been here before, and I know the way out."
***
Mrs. Allerby down the street
sits on her front porch
in lemonade shade
watching the children
play in the summer breezes
as they did together
before John went away.
Sometimes on a Sunday evening,
as she sits in her rocker
knitting (or reading special words),
Mrs. Allerby hears the footsteps of young
couples walking home from the church,
not stopping in: as they did
before John went away.
Mrs. Allerby's cat, a white
Angora understandably called "Midnight"
curls up next to her at night
on the feather quilt,
watching until the sun
streaks the velvet
carpet of night:
as John did
before he died.
***
Elijah, like Jesus in another encounter with a woman, asks for a cup of water. Water is essential to health. We are advised to drink plenty of it to maintain ourselves in our well-being. It is said that our bodies are composed of anywhere from 55-60% water. An old Arab saying answers the question of God's race by saying that the color of God is the color of water!
We are created in the image of God. Perhaps the three states of water teach us something about God and ourselves. Water is fluid, like God. It is all in all, it is the Alpha and the Omega of life itself. God is the Creator of life, its Author. Water can be solid, like ice. God can be flesh and blood as God becomes in the person of Jesus. God can touch us, heal us, and teach us. God can be our Redeemer even as God suffers, dies, and rises again on the Cross for my sins. Water can be a gas like steam. In the way that steam can play with wisps of vapors over the slightest currents of the air, so too the Spirit can come from seemingly nowhere and continue on in amazing and unpredictable ways. Thus God becomes our Sanctifier, giving us gifts for ministry to make the ordinary holy. If that is the case, then indeed, give me a cup of water too, if you please!
***
The healing touch is a sensitive but essential component part of Christian healing. In our church we practice the laying on of hands and anointing with oil of unction to intercede for healing on behalf of the faithful. The Gospels refer to touching at least 30 times. That physical touch between Jesus and the people is a vehicle that often becomes the occasion for healing. Be careful how you touch someone! Healing is one thing... abuse is something so utterly different.
How often does a child of God need something as simple and as innocent as a hug, the wiping away of a tear, or a kindly pat on the shoulder to give reassurance in time of need. Remember that reclaiming our place as "a safe church" will not come easily anymore. We must earn the trust of our people... but it is worth doing so, because at the center of that trust is the power of Christ to heal.
***
When we honestly ask ourselves which person in our lives means the most to us, we often find that it is those who, instead of giving much advice, solutions, or cures, have chosen rather to share our pain and touch our wounds with a gentle and tender hand.
-- Henri Nouwen
WORSHIP RESOURCES
by Thom M. Shuman
Call to Worship
Leader: You we praise, O God! You we praise!
People: We will sing our songs of joy this day and in all days to come!
Leader: School is out, many of us are planning vacations,
life changes from day to day.
People: Yet, you keep your promises every day;
you hold your faithfulness in your heart.
Leader: You shower us with your hope;
you offer us help in every moment.
People: You we praise, O God! You we praise!
Prayer of the Day (and Our Lord's Prayer)
You we praise, Fountain of Hope:
you turn our hearts toward the outsiders in our midst,
so we can see you in them;
you take off the sunglasses of sin we have worn for too long,
so we may see your kingdom of peace and joy.
You we praise, Friend of the poor:
when we trip over our foolish feet
in our headstrong rush to catch the world's whims,
you pick us up, bandage our scraped knees,
and put us back on the path to faithfulness.
You we praise, Spirit of blessing:
you hold the hands of the widows and orphans
as they wander the busy streets of greed and consumption,
leading them to your compassion and grace.
You we praise, God in Community, Holy in One,
as we lift our prayer as Jesus has taught us,
Our Father . . .
Call to Reconciliation
In our pride, we think life is all about us --
our desires, our needs, our achievements.
And so, in our pride,
we ignore the gospel proclaimed to us by God's love and hope for us.
Let us confess our faulty lives, as we open ourselves to God's healing grace.
(Unison) Prayer of Confession
We do not want you to know how our lives do not proclaim your good news,
God of all hearts.
But you have heard the words we have spoken which injure those we love.
You see how insistent we can be in clinging to the ways we have always lived,
rather than walking your new paths.
We have trouble believing that when our souls are empty
and our hearts have only a small portion of love,
you can do miracles in and through us.
So, what we need to know is that you do indeed forgive us and still love us
God of comfort.
Let your grace shower us and end the drought of fear and doubt in our lives,
So we can believe the good news which comes to us
through Jesus Christ, our Lord and Savior.
(silent prayers may be offered)
Assurance of Pardon
Leader: Do not be sad.
God feeds us with grace and hope,
God watches over us, and raises us to new life.
People: You we praise, Holy God,
for this good news of joy and peace for our lives. Amen.
CHILDREN'S SERMON
Compassion
Luke 7:11-17
Object: a nurse's ID badge (borrowed from a nurse)
Good morning, boys and girls. How many of you have ever been hurt so badly that you had to go to the hospital to be cared for by the doctors and nurses? (let them answer) Some of you have been there. Do you remember how afraid you were? (let them answer) First of all, you hurt pretty badly, and second, you were not sure what was going to happen to you. That would make anyone afraid. Do you remember how nice the nurses were to you that day and every day that you were in the hospital? (let them answer) They were really something special and they made a lot of the worry and fear go right out of you.
I brought along a nurse's ID badge with me this morning so that you could think about nurses when I tell you a big word. The word is "compassion," and that is what the nurses feel for you when you come into the hospital. They have compassion for you. That is another word, only a nice powerful word, for caring. They not only feel strongly for you, but they also take care of what is hurting you. And the nurses will be there to keep taking care of you until you are well enough to go home.
Jesus was a person who was filled with compassion. He had compassion for all who needed him, and that includes everyone. I remember the story in the Bible about a woman who was walking to the cemetery to bury her son. She had already buried her husband after he died, and now she was all alone. The people who walked with her were carrying the body of her son, and they were all very sad. Jesus watched the people coming toward him, and the Bible said that he had compassion for her. That means that he not only felt sorry for her hurt, but that he was going to do something about it.
First, he told her not to cry any more, which is another way of telling her that she would soon have nothing to be sad about. Then he went over to the place where the body was being carried and told the son to wake up, to come back to life. And I am sure that you know what happened. The man who was dead was brought back to life.
That was just one sign of Jesus' compassion. Jesus has compassion on lots of people. He cares about us, and he does something about it. Nurses have compassion, and, when you see a badge like this, you can remember that the nurses, like many other people, learn their compassion from God.
We should all have compassion, which means that when we see someone who needs us, we should care and do what we can to help them.
(From The Giant Book of Children's Sermons, by Wesley T. Runk, CSS Publishing Co., 2003)
* * * * * * * * * * * * *
The Immediate Word, June 10, 2007, issue.
Copyright 2007 by CSS Publishing Company, Inc., Lima, Ohio.
All rights reserved. Subscribers to The Immediate Word service may print and use this material as it was intended in sermons and in worship and classroom settings only. No additional permission is required from the publisher for such use by subscribers only. Inquiries should be addressed to permissions@csspub.com or to Permissions, CSS Publishing Company, Inc., 517 South Main Street, Lima, Ohio 45804.
God With Us, In the Pit
by Carlos Wilton
Luke 7:11-17
THE WORLD
C.S. Lewis once wrote: "God whispers to us in our pleasure, speaks to us in our conscience, but shouts to us in our pain; it is his megaphone to rouse a deaf world." There's something about the experience of pain that turns our thoughts Godward -- or, to look at it another way, perhaps it is in our pain that God most clearly comes to us, shouting to us in order that we may not mistake how very much we are loved.
After Jesus raises the son of the widow of Nain in Luke 7:11-17, the people exclaim, "God has looked favorably on his people!" Older translations -- actually, more literal -- say, "God has visited his people." It is in times of pain that many of us report the experience of being visited by God, in the sense that we are acutely aware of God's presence.
The June 4, 2007 Newsweek cover story is "The Changing Science of Pain". Wounded soldiers returning from Iraq, some of them with "phantom pain" from amputated limbs, are testing medical science's understanding of pain and its origins. One in five Americans suffers from "chronic pain" -- a mysterious malady that defies both explanation and treatment. The experience of such patients has led doctors to a paradigm-busting change in the way they view pain: not as a symptom of something else, but as a disease in its own right. Pain Management is fast becoming a leading medical specialty.
Those who have had to live with pain in the long term may choose to describe it in biblical terms: as "the Pit" (in the language of one of today's psalms, Psalm 30). The good news of the gospel is that God visits us -- even in the Pit.
THE WORD
There is no synoptic parallel to this miracle-story. It closely follows 1 Kings 17:17-24 (Elijah's raising of the son of the widow of Zarephath) -- which, as is no accident, is the First Lesson appointed for this Sunday. In telling a story that so closely parallels this notable miracle performed by one of Israel's greatest prophets, Luke is establishing Jesus as belonging to the same illustrious company. Hence, the reaction of the people in verse 16: "A great prophet has arisen among us!" The onlookers are astute enough to make the same connection.
Commenting on Luke 7:11-17 in their Social-Science Commentary on the Synoptic Gospels (Fortress Press, 2003, p. 253), Bruce J. Malina and Richard L. Rohrbaugh describe the dire circumstances of the widow of Nain: "This is a woman in trouble. Since no family connection remained, such a woman's life expectancy was extremely short. In antiquity, the closest emotional bond was normally between mother and son, not husband and wife; a son was a mother's lifelong protector and her ultimate social security.... Note especially that the "healing" in this story is focused not so much on the raising of the dead son, which in a way is incidental to the narrative, but on restoration of the mother, whose place in the community is reborn when the son rises."
In our culture, we tend to focus on the woman's personal grief at losing a son. Such pain is certainly real: yet, as Malina and Rohrbaugh remind us, there is so much more going on here, from a sociological perspective. In raising the boy, Jesus raises the mother as well.
He does this at some risk to himself -- or at least to his budding reputation as a holy man. Malina and Rohrbaugh remind us that "[t]ouching the bier of a dead person as Jesus does here was considered defiling." There is no need for Jesus to reach out and touch this stretcher-like carrier on which the son's body lies in repose, but he does anyway. His action is reminiscent of a mourner at a graveside service who reaches out and touches the casket-lid, in a way richly symbolic of the desire to maintain contact with the deceased. Such gestures are very sad and poignant, of course. Even those who make them know, on an intellectual level, that they are not actually touching their loved one. Yet the desire for touch, for human contact with the loved one remains. When Jesus -- heedless of the ritual uncleanliness he will bring down upon himself -- touches the boy's bier, he is taking his place amongst those who are deeply saddened and touched by his passing. It is an action of true compassion.
The word "compassion" (splagchnizoimai), which Luke uses in verse 13, is a rich source for word-studies. It's related to the word for bowels or intestines -- Jesus literally feels the pain of the widow's grief in his gut. The proper course, for a distinguished rabbi such as he, would be to maintain a studied aloofness -- but the Savior of the world will have none of that.
The theme of God's visitation (episkeptomai) to the people (v. 16) also occurs in Luke 1:68 and 19:44, and Acts 15:14. Sometimes it's translated "looked favorably on" rather than "visited," but that's because the Greek word contains within it the assumption that the reason one person visits another is because of a favorable inclination. In a world in which travel was difficult and even dangerous, one does not just casually drop in on someone, as we may do from time to time. To visit another is to demonstrate one's regard for the other.
CRAFTING THE SERMON
A sermon on this passage could begin with a reflection on pain, and the role it plays in our lives. Most people facing surgery or other medical treatment -- from the child afraid of a shot, to the hospice patient asking for morphine -- are eager to avoid pain. From the earliest human history, anesthetic substances were greatly valued: from the Andean shaman distributing coca leaves, to the Chinese, who discovered the soporific effects of opium, to the naval surgeon giving a prospective amputee a swig of rum. It was not until the advent of ether and chloroform in the mid-19th century, however, that we began to believe that we could be the masters of pain -- that pain could be controlled, not merely endured.
Today, as the Newsweek article referenced above reminds us, medical experts are beginning to look on pain as a medical disorder in itself, one that can be directly treated (as opposed to a symptom of something else). We are among the first generations in human history to believe it's actually possible to live a life that's more or less pain-free. There are some, in fact, who think that the greater emphasis on corporal punishment of children in earlier generations was partly in order to give them experience in stoically bearing pain. An occasional beating was thought to be intrinsically character-building. (Thankfully, those days are behind us!)
So where is God when pain does come to us? Where was God for the widow of Nain, who had to endure the pain not only of her son's death, but also of the utter destruction of her economic and social position in society?
The answer is, God was with her -- in the person of Jesus Christ, who did not just stonily gaze in the direction of her son's body, but rather reached out and touched the bier on which he lay... then went on to raise him to renewed life.
Certain experiences in life, as the author of Psalm 30 reminds us, are reminiscent of "the Pit" (v. 3). One of the best modern literary expressions of the horrors of the Pit is this passage from Wendell Berry:
Imagine a hunter, somebody from a city some distance away, who has a job he doesn't like, and who has come alone out into the country to hunt on a Saturday. It is a beautiful, perfect fall day, and the Man feels free. He has left all his constraints and worries and fears behind. Nobody knows where he is. Anybody who wanted to complain or accuse or collect a debt could not find him. The morning that started frosty has grown warm. The sky seems to give its luster to everything in the world. The Man feels strong and fine. His gun lies ready in the crook of his arm, though he really doesn't care whether he finds game or not. He has a sandwich and a candy bar in his coat pocket. And then, not looking where he is going, which is easy enough on such a day, he steps onto the rotten boards that cover one of those old wells, and down he goes.
He disappears suddenly out of the lighted world. He falls so quickly that he doesn't have time even to ask what is happening. He hits water, goes under, comes up, swims, or clings to the wall, inserting his fingers between the rocks. And now, I think, you cannot help imagining the way it would be with him. He looks up and sees how far down he has come. The sky that was so large and reassuring only seconds ago is now just a small blue picture of itself, far away. His first thought is that he is alone, that nobody knows where he is; these two great pleasures that were his freedom have now become his prison, perhaps his tomb. He calls out (for might not somebody chance to be nearby, just as he chanced to fall into the well?) and he hears himself enclosed within the sound of his own calling voice.
How does this story end? Does he save himself? Is he athletic enough, maybe, to get his boots off and climb out, clawing with fingers and toes into the grudging holds between the rocks of the wall? Does he climb up and fall back? Does somebody, in fact, for a wonder, chance to pass nearby and hear him? Does he despair, give up, and drown? Does he, despairing, pray finally the first true prayer of his life?
Listen. There is a light that includes our darkness, a day that shines down even on the clouds. A man of faith believes that the Man in the Well is not lost. He does not believe this easily or without pain, but he believes it. His belief is a kind of knowledge beyond any way of knowing. He believes that the child in the womb is not lost, nor is the man whose work has come to nothing, nor is the old woman forsaken in a nursing home in California. He believes that those who make their bed in Hell are not lost, or those who dwell in the uttermost parts of the sea, or the lame man at Bethesda Pool, or Lazarus in the grave, or those who pray, "Eli, Eli, lama sabachthani."
Have mercy.
-- Wendell Berry, Jayber Crow (Counterpoint, 2000), pp. 356-357
One of our deepest convictions, as people of faith, is that we are not alone, as the traumas of life overtake us. The Lord has visited us, as Jesus visited Nain of old -- and he continues to visit us. In the famous words of J.B. Phillips -- often quoted at Christmastime, in sermons on the Incarnation -- ours is a "visited planet."
Let us strive to live as though that's really true.
ANOTHER VIEW
The Pit
by Scott Suskovic
Psalm 30
To you, O Lord, I cried, and to the Lord I made supplication: "What profit is there in my death, if I go down to the Pit? Will the dust praise you? Will it tell of your faithfulness? Hear, O Lord, and be gracious to me! O Lord, be my helper!" (Psalm 30:8-10)
When is the last time you were in the pit? Not just a little bump in the road or a really bad day, but a in a deep, dark pit? Could be an extended unemployment. Could be a disease, death, depression, family problems. There are many different kinds of pits. When is the last time you were in a pit and said: "I cry before you, I plead with you, O Lord. If only you would hear me." Remember?
Now, do you remember what questions you were asking or how you felt? Did you think as you sat there in the darkness: "Have I sinned so deeply, have I erred so greatly that there is no coming back home? Has God turned his back on me forever?"
The Psalmist writes of the reality of the pit. But see with what permission the author writes. Our faith is not one that sugarcoats the pit. Our faith is not one that merely whistles in the dark. Our faith is not one that simply puts on a happy face. The Psalmist reminds us that God is big enough to handle our finger-pointing, our fist-pounding, and our tear-stained cheeks. You have permission from God's Word to get angry, to cry, and to feel bad. After all, you're in the pit.
When you are in the pit, what do you need? When I was in high school my dad fell from a ladder and onto the concrete. The x-ray of his heel looked like a china plate dropped on tile. He was in two casts for months, and was out of a job for a long time. One well-meaning person from church told my mom that her cousin did the same thing. She told my mom, "He never walked again." Folks, when you are speaking to someone in the pit, don't try to make yours deeper and darker to make them feel better. That doesn't work. They need to know that someone has been there before and has lived to tell about it.
When you are in the pit, what don't you need? You don't need cute little pat answers about how it's going to be just fine. In fact, those simple answers do more harm than good. What else don't you need? You don't need advice. You don't need a coach. You don't need a cheerleader.
But what do you need? What do you need when you are asking tough questions about real suffering? What do you need when you feel abandoned by your friends and full of guilt or shame? What do you need when you feel that you are so deep in a pit that you can't even see the light of the coming day? What do you need when you have to remind yourself to take that next breath?
I remember asking that question to a Bible study once, and one woman immediately said, "Nothing. You need to feel a hug. You need God with skin on him." She put it well. You need to know that you are not alone. You need someone to get in the pit, make that phone call, invite you out to lunch, and remind you that you are not alone. People in the pit are not looking for good advice. They don't expect clever answers. They don't want a perky cheerleader. They need to know that they are not alone. They need God with skin. They need to know that they are not alone.
Amnesty International tells the story of one American man in an overseas prison, held without bond, without reason, without cause. One day the guard begrudgingly tossed him a scrap of paper. The prisoner read the short note. All it said was: "We know you are here. We will never forget. -- Amnesty International" That short note to remind him that he was not forgotten or alone got him through his awful ordeal.
Scripture provides us with an even better assurance. From the Bible, we can say several things about the pit. First, God is the God of the Pit. He has come not to throw down a flashlight and a ladder. It's much too dark and steep for that. He has come not to yell down instructions. It's too overwhelming for that. He came not to be your cheerleader. It's too exhausting for a pep talk. He has come to do what he asks us to do for others -- get in the pit, wrap his arms around you, make his presence known. He has come not to show you the way out but to be the way out of the pit.
Our Savior knows something about the pit. He knows the darkness. He knows the solitude when, nailed to a cross and left to die, he cried out from his own pit, "My God, my God, why have your forsaken me?" You see, the questions are the same whether you are unemployed or sick, grieving or in pain, in exile or on a cross. The questions, the feelings, the suffering are the same: "My God, my God why have you forsaken me?" Jesus is the savior of the pit who understands because he has been there... and is there next to you in the pit to see you through the darkness and into the light of a new day.
In one particular Indian tribe, the rite of passage for a young boy to enter adulthood was to spend the night alone lost in the forest. The older men would escort the young lad deep into the woods on a moonless night until he was totally disoriented. And then they would abandon him. Imagine that, a little boy, 10-12 years old, spending the night alone in the woods with his back against a big oak tree, knees tucked under his chin and eyes that never blink. Life is scary in the pit.
As the night finally passes, and the first hint of dawn emerges, the boy can make out a figure a couple of yards away from him. At first he doesn't move. He doesn't know what it is. But then as the light slowly emerges he realizes it's his dad who has spent the whole night next to him with spear in hand to make sure that nothing... nothing was going to hurt his boy that night. Not on his watch.
I know that when you are in the pit, it's hard to feel that presence. The questions cast doubt, the feelings create fear, the need goes by unmet. But the promise is still there. I am with you... always. And neither life nor death nor angels nor things present nor things to come will be able to separate you from the love of God in Christ Jesus. Not on his watch. Not on his eternal watch.
ILLUSTRATIONS
As followers of our Lord Jesus Christ, we are sometimes -- or even often -- called to bear sorrow and pain. Dietrich Bonhoeffer, the German pastor who was martyred by the Nazis during World War II, wrote:
"The disciple community does not shake off sorrow as though it were no concern of its own, but willingly bears it. And in this way they show how close are the bonds which bind them to the rest of humanity. But at the same time they do not go out of their way to look for sorrow and suffering, or try to contract out of it by adopting an attitude of contempt or disdain. They simply bear the suffering which comes their way as they try to follow Jesus Christ, and bear it for his sake."
-- Dietrich Bonhoeffer, The Cost of Discipleship (Macmillan, 1969), p. 122
***
"Put your hand in the hand of the man who stilled the waters, put your hand in the hand of the man who calmed the sea" the song says, and many people have found this the way to get themselves through a difficult and painful time.
When pain strikes -- whether it be physical, mental, emotional, or of whatever kind -- when pain strikes, we can reach out and know that our Lord is holding onto our hand and will never let us go. He promises us, "I will never leave you nor forsake you."
The next time pain strikes, put your hand in the hand of the man who stilled the waters.
***
Remember the TV commercial where someone says that they don't have time for the pain, so they take the analgesic manufactured by the sponsor of the program and in moments they're feeling fine again? Unfortunately you and I can't always get rid of our pain that easily.
Sometimes we don't have time for the pain that comes roaring at us either, but it attacks us anyway. Pain can be one of the hardest experiences that we'll ever have to go through.
Our Lord understands pain. From the time he was arrested in the Garden of Gethsemane until he breathed his last and committed his spirit to his Father, Jesus was subjected to more and more pain, pain beyond our imagining.
Where did he find the strength to bear up under all this pain? Even though he cried out, "My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?" he knew that his loving Father had been with him all his life, and that in a little while the pain would be over and he would be in his Father's caring presence again.
We can know the same thing. Weeping may last for the night, the Psalm tells us, but joy comes in the morning. Our loving God will not fail us.
***
In our age, as in any other, the healing ministry of Christ's body, the church, has to engage with and grapple with the problem of suffering and pain, which is the experience of so many people in the world. We cannot trivialize it by saying, "Never mind, your pain will make you a better person," or bypass it by saying, "You may not understand, but in God's greater plan your suffering is acceptable." Nor can we zap it with magic. The church is not into mumbo-jumbo. We have to take it seriously, and it is only when we take the mystery of suffering seriously that we begin to see the face of Christ in it all. Healing is not about curing -- it is about wholeness. Health is not about perfection but about reconciliation.
-- Kate McIlhagga, from Praying for the Dawn (Wild Goose Publications, 2000)
***
We are never left abandoned when we are in the Pit/Sheol. In the TV drama The West Wing, one of the characters, Josh Bartlett, is going through a time when he feels he has to face a crisis all on his own. Another character, his mentor and boss Leo McGarry, stops him one day and, to make Josh understand he is not on this journey alone, tells him the following story:
A fellow is walking home one night and slips and falls into a deep hole. He tries his best, but he cannot get out.
Just then, a lawyer walks by. "Hey buddy," calls the man down in the pit, "can you help me out?" The lawyer just drops his business card down to the man and keeps going down the street.
A little later, a priest comes by. "Father," yells the man, "I'm down here. Can you give me a hand?" The priest writes a prayer on a piece of paper and throws it down to the man.
Sometime later, a friend comes by. He sees his friend down at the bottom of the hole and immediately jumps in. "What did you do that for?" cries the first man. "Now we're both down here."
"Yeah," says his friend. "But I've been here before, and I know the way out."
***
Mrs. Allerby down the street
sits on her front porch
in lemonade shade
watching the children
play in the summer breezes
as they did together
before John went away.
Sometimes on a Sunday evening,
as she sits in her rocker
knitting (or reading special words),
Mrs. Allerby hears the footsteps of young
couples walking home from the church,
not stopping in: as they did
before John went away.
Mrs. Allerby's cat, a white
Angora understandably called "Midnight"
curls up next to her at night
on the feather quilt,
watching until the sun
streaks the velvet
carpet of night:
as John did
before he died.
***
Elijah, like Jesus in another encounter with a woman, asks for a cup of water. Water is essential to health. We are advised to drink plenty of it to maintain ourselves in our well-being. It is said that our bodies are composed of anywhere from 55-60% water. An old Arab saying answers the question of God's race by saying that the color of God is the color of water!
We are created in the image of God. Perhaps the three states of water teach us something about God and ourselves. Water is fluid, like God. It is all in all, it is the Alpha and the Omega of life itself. God is the Creator of life, its Author. Water can be solid, like ice. God can be flesh and blood as God becomes in the person of Jesus. God can touch us, heal us, and teach us. God can be our Redeemer even as God suffers, dies, and rises again on the Cross for my sins. Water can be a gas like steam. In the way that steam can play with wisps of vapors over the slightest currents of the air, so too the Spirit can come from seemingly nowhere and continue on in amazing and unpredictable ways. Thus God becomes our Sanctifier, giving us gifts for ministry to make the ordinary holy. If that is the case, then indeed, give me a cup of water too, if you please!
***
The healing touch is a sensitive but essential component part of Christian healing. In our church we practice the laying on of hands and anointing with oil of unction to intercede for healing on behalf of the faithful. The Gospels refer to touching at least 30 times. That physical touch between Jesus and the people is a vehicle that often becomes the occasion for healing. Be careful how you touch someone! Healing is one thing... abuse is something so utterly different.
How often does a child of God need something as simple and as innocent as a hug, the wiping away of a tear, or a kindly pat on the shoulder to give reassurance in time of need. Remember that reclaiming our place as "a safe church" will not come easily anymore. We must earn the trust of our people... but it is worth doing so, because at the center of that trust is the power of Christ to heal.
***
When we honestly ask ourselves which person in our lives means the most to us, we often find that it is those who, instead of giving much advice, solutions, or cures, have chosen rather to share our pain and touch our wounds with a gentle and tender hand.
-- Henri Nouwen
WORSHIP RESOURCES
by Thom M. Shuman
Call to Worship
Leader: You we praise, O God! You we praise!
People: We will sing our songs of joy this day and in all days to come!
Leader: School is out, many of us are planning vacations,
life changes from day to day.
People: Yet, you keep your promises every day;
you hold your faithfulness in your heart.
Leader: You shower us with your hope;
you offer us help in every moment.
People: You we praise, O God! You we praise!
Prayer of the Day (and Our Lord's Prayer)
You we praise, Fountain of Hope:
you turn our hearts toward the outsiders in our midst,
so we can see you in them;
you take off the sunglasses of sin we have worn for too long,
so we may see your kingdom of peace and joy.
You we praise, Friend of the poor:
when we trip over our foolish feet
in our headstrong rush to catch the world's whims,
you pick us up, bandage our scraped knees,
and put us back on the path to faithfulness.
You we praise, Spirit of blessing:
you hold the hands of the widows and orphans
as they wander the busy streets of greed and consumption,
leading them to your compassion and grace.
You we praise, God in Community, Holy in One,
as we lift our prayer as Jesus has taught us,
Our Father . . .
Call to Reconciliation
In our pride, we think life is all about us --
our desires, our needs, our achievements.
And so, in our pride,
we ignore the gospel proclaimed to us by God's love and hope for us.
Let us confess our faulty lives, as we open ourselves to God's healing grace.
(Unison) Prayer of Confession
We do not want you to know how our lives do not proclaim your good news,
God of all hearts.
But you have heard the words we have spoken which injure those we love.
You see how insistent we can be in clinging to the ways we have always lived,
rather than walking your new paths.
We have trouble believing that when our souls are empty
and our hearts have only a small portion of love,
you can do miracles in and through us.
So, what we need to know is that you do indeed forgive us and still love us
God of comfort.
Let your grace shower us and end the drought of fear and doubt in our lives,
So we can believe the good news which comes to us
through Jesus Christ, our Lord and Savior.
(silent prayers may be offered)
Assurance of Pardon
Leader: Do not be sad.
God feeds us with grace and hope,
God watches over us, and raises us to new life.
People: You we praise, Holy God,
for this good news of joy and peace for our lives. Amen.
CHILDREN'S SERMON
Compassion
Luke 7:11-17
Object: a nurse's ID badge (borrowed from a nurse)
Good morning, boys and girls. How many of you have ever been hurt so badly that you had to go to the hospital to be cared for by the doctors and nurses? (let them answer) Some of you have been there. Do you remember how afraid you were? (let them answer) First of all, you hurt pretty badly, and second, you were not sure what was going to happen to you. That would make anyone afraid. Do you remember how nice the nurses were to you that day and every day that you were in the hospital? (let them answer) They were really something special and they made a lot of the worry and fear go right out of you.
I brought along a nurse's ID badge with me this morning so that you could think about nurses when I tell you a big word. The word is "compassion," and that is what the nurses feel for you when you come into the hospital. They have compassion for you. That is another word, only a nice powerful word, for caring. They not only feel strongly for you, but they also take care of what is hurting you. And the nurses will be there to keep taking care of you until you are well enough to go home.
Jesus was a person who was filled with compassion. He had compassion for all who needed him, and that includes everyone. I remember the story in the Bible about a woman who was walking to the cemetery to bury her son. She had already buried her husband after he died, and now she was all alone. The people who walked with her were carrying the body of her son, and they were all very sad. Jesus watched the people coming toward him, and the Bible said that he had compassion for her. That means that he not only felt sorry for her hurt, but that he was going to do something about it.
First, he told her not to cry any more, which is another way of telling her that she would soon have nothing to be sad about. Then he went over to the place where the body was being carried and told the son to wake up, to come back to life. And I am sure that you know what happened. The man who was dead was brought back to life.
That was just one sign of Jesus' compassion. Jesus has compassion on lots of people. He cares about us, and he does something about it. Nurses have compassion, and, when you see a badge like this, you can remember that the nurses, like many other people, learn their compassion from God.
We should all have compassion, which means that when we see someone who needs us, we should care and do what we can to help them.
(From The Giant Book of Children's Sermons, by Wesley T. Runk, CSS Publishing Co., 2003)
* * * * * * * * * * * * *
The Immediate Word, June 10, 2007, issue.
Copyright 2007 by CSS Publishing Company, Inc., Lima, Ohio.
All rights reserved. Subscribers to The Immediate Word service may print and use this material as it was intended in sermons and in worship and classroom settings only. No additional permission is required from the publisher for such use by subscribers only. Inquiries should be addressed to permissions@csspub.com or to Permissions, CSS Publishing Company, Inc., 517 South Main Street, Lima, Ohio 45804.
