An Easter Sunrise Sermon 2018
A Sermon for Easter Sunrise
April 1, 2018
Pleasant Hill Presbyterian Church
Fruitland, MO
6:30 am
Reading from John 20:1-10
Every year, as the date on our calendar for Easter shifts within a window of time from March 20th to April 20th, I worriedly consult an almanac to see when the sun is set to rise on that respective date. Personally, I want to insure the time of our worship service is scheduled so we arrive prior to sunrise. At the same time, I wish to be culturally sensitive as I am also cognizant that most people today do not wish our services to begin too early.
This year, I am pleased. The sun is scheduled to come over the horizon at 6:47 am and we are planning to begin our services at 6:30 am. I love it when things work out. We drove out here in the dark. As our worship service commences, the eastern skies have already begun to lighten with the expectant brightening of celebration of the Resurrection.
And the words from John’s Gospel tune my heart in preparation, “While it was still dark…”
If there were three things I’d wish for you to take away from this particular worship service, it would be these three things:
It’s still dark, somewhere, for someone.
God is at work, even in the darkness. In fact, God does his best work in the dark.
God’s light is always greater than our darkness.
The events that bring us to this early morning worship service began in darkness. As Jesus gasped his last breath while still on the cross, darkness covered the whole land. The three gospels of Matthew, Mark and Luke all note, that between the hours of noon and three in the afternoon, on that day we now call Good Friday, darkness enveloped the region. The literal darkness, as well as its symbolic presence, cannot be overlooked.
We don’t hear much about Saturday, the Jewish Sabbath, but we can extrapolate a metaphorical darkness, the gloom of an emotional darkness, perhaps even a spiritual darkness diminishing any scant remembrance of hope amongst those who followed Jesus.
It is interesting to note how the Gospel of John begins his account of the resurrection making sure we understand the presence of this darkness that still lingers as the first day of the week begins. As the women prepare to make their journey to the tomb to take care of unfinished business of preparing the body of Jesus for burial, John reminds us they started this journey while it was still dark.
It was still dark.
If we read any of the other three gospel accounts, they all begin with the dawn, the beginning of the light. (Compare Matthew 28, Mark 16, and Luke 24.) But not so in John’s account of how this Easter morning began.
We can’t help but to discern more insight to John’s perspective. For John, the contrast of light and darkness is paramount, a prism through which the story of Jesus and his relationship to the world is presented. After all, Jesus is the light that shines in the uncomprehending darkness. “The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it.” (John 1:5)
Jesus tells us he is the light of the world. In John 12:46, he says, “I have come into the world as a light, so that no one who believes in me should stay in darkness.”
But here we are, on the first day of the week, beginning our service on perhaps the most important day of our faith tradition, paradoxically not in light, but darkness that first confronts us in Easter.
But just a paradoxically, it is precisely in her moment of greatest grief that Mary encounters the brightest, most illuminating light (verses 11 to 16). This is the message of hope that shines through the haunting story of Mary Magdalene. And it has its start in the dark emptiness of a tomb, but initially, she does not understand the events that have taken place. Her heart is still buried in the darkness of grief and hopelessness.
She leaves to tell the disciples. Peter and John find their way to the tomb, but they do not necessarily seemed phased by this notion of darkness. Whatever tentative conclusions these two drew at the moment, they are reported in verse 10 as if they simply shrug and decide to go back home. Not one single emotion is described. We're not told they were happy or sad, confused or elated, curious or oddly unmoved. Nothing. They just went home. They don't even say good-bye to Mary. They just silently walk away and leave the hapless woman to weep by herself in the garden.
Mary wept.
We began this chapter "while it was still dark" but no matter how much higher over the horizon the sun had crept by this point in the story, there is a metaphorical sense in which the darkness persists. The very first emotion we have described for us is one of sorrow. This is where Easter begins: in darkness and lament, in confusion and the shadow of death. I think most of us would sense this is where the story ends.
But Easter emerges from the darkness of death, the shadows of confusion, the sorrows of this sad world. That's exactly where we need Easter. The good news is that even in that dark moment, Jesus had risen.
But John wants to say more than indicating that Mary hasn’t had a very good weekend. His theme from the beginning of his Gospel is that Jesus is the light of the world, and no amount of darkness can snuff that light out. What he is showing, I think, is how Mary lives out that hope and what happens as a result.
But look closely, for Mary has something to teach us in those times, those times when we feel that oppressive weight of the enveloping darkness. What did she do? She went to the tomb while it was still dark. Despite her terrible grief and probable fear, Mary got up and did something. She went to the last place she knew Jesus was.
Even though it was his tomb and she knew darn well he was dead…after all, she had watched it and experienced the pain of that grief moment, first hand…she went. As useless as it may have felt, she needed to be where Jesus was to give herself a measure comfort, even in the dark.
Mary shows us what faithfulness in the dark looks like. When our prayers just seem to hit the ceiling and fall back down on our heads, we go to pray anyway. When reading the Bible is just so many words on a page, we read anyway. When church seems to be just going through the motions with a bunch of whiny malcontents who have no clue as to the heaviness of our burden, we go anyway. We go to the tomb…the place where we last saw him…while it is still dark.
And then comes that time when we discover that God has been at work…even in the darkness.
Remember these three things:
It’s still dark, somewhere, for someone.
God is at work, even in the darkness. In fact, God does his best work in the dark.
God’s light is always greater than our darkness.
Easter experience comes from being faithful in the dark. Thomas, one of the other disciples, heard the news, but there was still no Easter for him. He didn’t believe it. He didn’t really believe that the darkness could not be overcome by the light.
Easter didn’t come for Thomas until a week later when Jesus showed up and allowed this man we’ve come to call “doubting Thomas” to stick his fingers in Jesus’ wounds. Only then does Thomas acknowledge the reality of Easter. Jesus says to him, “Have you believed because you have seen me? Blessed are those who have not seen and yet have come to believe.” And blessed are those who believe while it is still dark, even despite the darkness.
Darkness comes to us all, sometimes for a little while, sometimes for a season or more. Darkness is not a sign that you have no faith. Darkness is the opportunity to show your faith as Mary did. Darkness is the time to get up and face those fears head on…to go to the tomb. It is the time to recognize that Easter happened in the dark, and because it has, it brings us the light. Too often we perceive the darkness to be the end.
Faith Conklin quote:
“Easter doesn’t end all suffering. It doesn’t stop death. It doesn’t make everything that’s wrong with us or the world suddenly “right.” What Easter does is offer us courage, comfort and hope. It assures us that God is stronger than all that faces us. It anchors us in the sure promise that God will always have the last word. God’s word is one of love and peace, grace and mercy, light and life. Into every circumstance of our lives, that word will be spoken.
Easter isn’t just about our dying. It’s also about our living. It gives us power to do both. Jesus entered the darkness of our sin, despair, hopelessness and death. He went there so we don't have to stay there. His resurrection means that in no part of our life can darkness remain in charge. It can enter. But it can’t stay. It can’t overcome us. God’s light is always greater than our darkness.”
As a family of faith, we need to always remember that for some of us, for someone, somewhere, at some time in their lives they still find a lot of darkness. As a family of faith, we are called to bring them the encouragement they need to overcome their darkness.
Harry Emerson Fosdick, a famous preacher in the last century of the Riverside Church in New York, wrote this prayer:
“We pray for those defeated souls to whom the note of victory sounds distant and unreal. Thou seest them here, known to thee though not to us, spirits frustrated by circumstance, overwhelmed by temptation, facing griefs too heavy for their unaided strength. O thou, who canst make the barren place rejoice and the desert to blossom like the rose, redeem some stricken souls here from defeat to victory.
“Replenish with new hope all who are discouraged about the world, who find faith in the ultimate victory of righteousness difficult. So often might triumphs over right, and the good is undone by evil that, like our Master on his Cross we cry, ‘My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me?’
“Lift our vision above the immediate illumine for us that eternal purpose which thou didst purpose in Christ. Say to us this Easter day that no Calvary can finally defeat Christ.” (From A Book of Public Prayers, by Harry Emerson Fosdick, 1959, page 136)
As we leave this place to start our Easter day, remember these three things:
It’s still dark, somewhere, for someone.
God is at work, even in the darkness. In fact, God does his best work in the dark.
God’s light is always greater than our darkness.
And because our faith tells us that Jesus is the light that has overcome the darkness, we can boldly proclaim, not just this day but every day: Christ is risen; He is risen, indeed. Amen!
April 1, 2018
Pleasant Hill Presbyterian Church
Fruitland, MO
6:30 am
Reading from John 20:1-10
Every year, as the date on our calendar for Easter shifts within a window of time from March 20th to April 20th, I worriedly consult an almanac to see when the sun is set to rise on that respective date. Personally, I want to insure the time of our worship service is scheduled so we arrive prior to sunrise. At the same time, I wish to be culturally sensitive as I am also cognizant that most people today do not wish our services to begin too early.
This year, I am pleased. The sun is scheduled to come over the horizon at 6:47 am and we are planning to begin our services at 6:30 am. I love it when things work out. We drove out here in the dark. As our worship service commences, the eastern skies have already begun to lighten with the expectant brightening of celebration of the Resurrection.
And the words from John’s Gospel tune my heart in preparation, “While it was still dark…”
If there were three things I’d wish for you to take away from this particular worship service, it would be these three things:
It’s still dark, somewhere, for someone.
God is at work, even in the darkness. In fact, God does his best work in the dark.
God’s light is always greater than our darkness.
The events that bring us to this early morning worship service began in darkness. As Jesus gasped his last breath while still on the cross, darkness covered the whole land. The three gospels of Matthew, Mark and Luke all note, that between the hours of noon and three in the afternoon, on that day we now call Good Friday, darkness enveloped the region. The literal darkness, as well as its symbolic presence, cannot be overlooked.
We don’t hear much about Saturday, the Jewish Sabbath, but we can extrapolate a metaphorical darkness, the gloom of an emotional darkness, perhaps even a spiritual darkness diminishing any scant remembrance of hope amongst those who followed Jesus.
It is interesting to note how the Gospel of John begins his account of the resurrection making sure we understand the presence of this darkness that still lingers as the first day of the week begins. As the women prepare to make their journey to the tomb to take care of unfinished business of preparing the body of Jesus for burial, John reminds us they started this journey while it was still dark.
It was still dark.
If we read any of the other three gospel accounts, they all begin with the dawn, the beginning of the light. (Compare Matthew 28, Mark 16, and Luke 24.) But not so in John’s account of how this Easter morning began.
We can’t help but to discern more insight to John’s perspective. For John, the contrast of light and darkness is paramount, a prism through which the story of Jesus and his relationship to the world is presented. After all, Jesus is the light that shines in the uncomprehending darkness. “The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it.” (John 1:5)
Jesus tells us he is the light of the world. In John 12:46, he says, “I have come into the world as a light, so that no one who believes in me should stay in darkness.”
But here we are, on the first day of the week, beginning our service on perhaps the most important day of our faith tradition, paradoxically not in light, but darkness that first confronts us in Easter.
But just a paradoxically, it is precisely in her moment of greatest grief that Mary encounters the brightest, most illuminating light (verses 11 to 16). This is the message of hope that shines through the haunting story of Mary Magdalene. And it has its start in the dark emptiness of a tomb, but initially, she does not understand the events that have taken place. Her heart is still buried in the darkness of grief and hopelessness.
She leaves to tell the disciples. Peter and John find their way to the tomb, but they do not necessarily seemed phased by this notion of darkness. Whatever tentative conclusions these two drew at the moment, they are reported in verse 10 as if they simply shrug and decide to go back home. Not one single emotion is described. We're not told they were happy or sad, confused or elated, curious or oddly unmoved. Nothing. They just went home. They don't even say good-bye to Mary. They just silently walk away and leave the hapless woman to weep by herself in the garden.
Mary wept.
We began this chapter "while it was still dark" but no matter how much higher over the horizon the sun had crept by this point in the story, there is a metaphorical sense in which the darkness persists. The very first emotion we have described for us is one of sorrow. This is where Easter begins: in darkness and lament, in confusion and the shadow of death. I think most of us would sense this is where the story ends.
But Easter emerges from the darkness of death, the shadows of confusion, the sorrows of this sad world. That's exactly where we need Easter. The good news is that even in that dark moment, Jesus had risen.
But John wants to say more than indicating that Mary hasn’t had a very good weekend. His theme from the beginning of his Gospel is that Jesus is the light of the world, and no amount of darkness can snuff that light out. What he is showing, I think, is how Mary lives out that hope and what happens as a result.
But look closely, for Mary has something to teach us in those times, those times when we feel that oppressive weight of the enveloping darkness. What did she do? She went to the tomb while it was still dark. Despite her terrible grief and probable fear, Mary got up and did something. She went to the last place she knew Jesus was.
Even though it was his tomb and she knew darn well he was dead…after all, she had watched it and experienced the pain of that grief moment, first hand…she went. As useless as it may have felt, she needed to be where Jesus was to give herself a measure comfort, even in the dark.
Mary shows us what faithfulness in the dark looks like. When our prayers just seem to hit the ceiling and fall back down on our heads, we go to pray anyway. When reading the Bible is just so many words on a page, we read anyway. When church seems to be just going through the motions with a bunch of whiny malcontents who have no clue as to the heaviness of our burden, we go anyway. We go to the tomb…the place where we last saw him…while it is still dark.
And then comes that time when we discover that God has been at work…even in the darkness.
Remember these three things:
It’s still dark, somewhere, for someone.
God is at work, even in the darkness. In fact, God does his best work in the dark.
God’s light is always greater than our darkness.
Easter experience comes from being faithful in the dark. Thomas, one of the other disciples, heard the news, but there was still no Easter for him. He didn’t believe it. He didn’t really believe that the darkness could not be overcome by the light.
Easter didn’t come for Thomas until a week later when Jesus showed up and allowed this man we’ve come to call “doubting Thomas” to stick his fingers in Jesus’ wounds. Only then does Thomas acknowledge the reality of Easter. Jesus says to him, “Have you believed because you have seen me? Blessed are those who have not seen and yet have come to believe.” And blessed are those who believe while it is still dark, even despite the darkness.
Darkness comes to us all, sometimes for a little while, sometimes for a season or more. Darkness is not a sign that you have no faith. Darkness is the opportunity to show your faith as Mary did. Darkness is the time to get up and face those fears head on…to go to the tomb. It is the time to recognize that Easter happened in the dark, and because it has, it brings us the light. Too often we perceive the darkness to be the end.
Faith Conklin quote:
“Easter doesn’t end all suffering. It doesn’t stop death. It doesn’t make everything that’s wrong with us or the world suddenly “right.” What Easter does is offer us courage, comfort and hope. It assures us that God is stronger than all that faces us. It anchors us in the sure promise that God will always have the last word. God’s word is one of love and peace, grace and mercy, light and life. Into every circumstance of our lives, that word will be spoken.
Easter isn’t just about our dying. It’s also about our living. It gives us power to do both. Jesus entered the darkness of our sin, despair, hopelessness and death. He went there so we don't have to stay there. His resurrection means that in no part of our life can darkness remain in charge. It can enter. But it can’t stay. It can’t overcome us. God’s light is always greater than our darkness.”
As a family of faith, we need to always remember that for some of us, for someone, somewhere, at some time in their lives they still find a lot of darkness. As a family of faith, we are called to bring them the encouragement they need to overcome their darkness.
Harry Emerson Fosdick, a famous preacher in the last century of the Riverside Church in New York, wrote this prayer:
“We pray for those defeated souls to whom the note of victory sounds distant and unreal. Thou seest them here, known to thee though not to us, spirits frustrated by circumstance, overwhelmed by temptation, facing griefs too heavy for their unaided strength. O thou, who canst make the barren place rejoice and the desert to blossom like the rose, redeem some stricken souls here from defeat to victory.
“Replenish with new hope all who are discouraged about the world, who find faith in the ultimate victory of righteousness difficult. So often might triumphs over right, and the good is undone by evil that, like our Master on his Cross we cry, ‘My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me?’
“Lift our vision above the immediate illumine for us that eternal purpose which thou didst purpose in Christ. Say to us this Easter day that no Calvary can finally defeat Christ.” (From A Book of Public Prayers, by Harry Emerson Fosdick, 1959, page 136)
As we leave this place to start our Easter day, remember these three things:
It’s still dark, somewhere, for someone.
God is at work, even in the darkness. In fact, God does his best work in the dark.
God’s light is always greater than our darkness.
And because our faith tells us that Jesus is the light that has overcome the darkness, we can boldly proclaim, not just this day but every day: Christ is risen; He is risen, indeed. Amen!
A Sample Newsletter Article, April 2018
Mark Batterson, in his study, “Draw the Circle,” gives us three assignments:
Dream big. Pray hard. Think long.
Dream Big
I contended, from the beginning of this study, that I was challenged greatly by this idea of dreaming big. I think I tend to dream “normal.” Mark Batterson adds, “If your dreams don’t scare you, your dreams are too small.”
I’m not sure I agree with the notion of being scared, but a good dream should energize and excite. Dreams inspire. It should be the last thing on our minds as we drift off to sleep and the first thought that gets out of bed in the morning. It should be so grand that our accomplishments could only be possible with God’s help. We might greet the morning with the wonderment of what God is going to do on this special day.
Psalm 126 begins with, “When the Lord restored the fortunes of Zion, we were like those who dreamed.” (NIV) This psalm connects the reader to the return of the exiles to Jerusalem and the wonderful things that awaited them. In verse three, the psalmist adds, “The Lord has done great things for us, and we are filled with joy.”
The literal definition of this word dream means “to bind firmly.” It’s the mental imagery of a mind held captive, fixated on an idea so highly desired it’s all you can think about.
I’m beginning to wonder, though, where dreams come from, where do dreams originate? Could it be a good dream is just a vision given by God?
Pray Hard
Psalm 37:4 brings to us these words, “Take delight in the Lord, and he will give you the desires of your heart.” (NIV) The meaning of the word, desire, is an inquiry, a request, even a demand. It is those things we long for, hope for and live for. These are the things we communicate to God if only in a sigh, a groan or a tear.
During this study I was prompted to challenge myself by asking what things do I pray for? When do I pray? Where do I pray? Remembering Paul’s admonition to pray without ceasing, what are the hopes and dreams that occupy my mind, the visions that captivate my imagination?
To take delight in the Lord means to have a relationship with God that sets your mind and your heart at peace. To delight is to trust in God’s goodness and mercy, to appreciate the ways God’s grace and redemption flow through us individually and as a church. In this delight, we find God’s desires for us.
Batterson says to pray hard is to, “Pray as if everything depended on God, and work as if everything depended on you.” Which is his way of saying prayer is also followed up by action. That action may be described as taking a step of faith.
Think Long
Batterson offers a third assignment to add to dreaming big and praying hard. He suggests we need to think long.
To think long is consider our hopes and prayers might not come to fruition in our lifetime, but in future generations. Remembering that every journey begins with a single step, Batterson urges us to step out in faith, to take an initial step of exercising our trust in God.
Remember, as well, the Scriptures never tell us we need to take a leap of faith, just a step. Everything begins with a first step, sometimes a step of faith without knowing what will come next or what our next step might lead.
Ah, yes, Grant, but what if that step is wrong? What if we’re wrong?
One author writes,
“The first step of a journey with no particular destination does not necessarily bind us to the entire journey, or even a second step. Taking a step of faith may conflict with other commitments (i.e., family or present employment). Taking a step of faith may also reconcile these commitments in a more integrated life.”
But we never know until we take that step of faith. Does that strike fear into your heart? I hope not, as this same author continues, “Our relationship with God is the context within which we live out all other commitments, thus, we can recognize God’s call only when we orient our lives into that relational context.”
Blessings, Grant
A Newsletter Article from June, 2018
“Assume the best, look for the good”
Well, on May 19th, I caught glimpses of the “Royal Wedding” on television, not that I was particularly interested, but I was not in possession of the remote control that afternoon so that’s what we watched.
However disinterested I pretended to be, I was touched when they sang, “Guide Me, Thou O Great Redeemer.” It was the same familiar hymn we sing where we use the title “Jehovah” in place of their designation “Redeemer.”
When they sang that hymn at St. George’s Chapel at Windsor Castle, I was reminded of another wedding, only at this other wedding, the bride included her father. George Clooney apparently declined to RSVP or maybe his invitation was lost in the mail.
When we sing this hymn in our congregation, the lyrics that stand out to my ear are found in the opening line, “Guide me, Thou, O Great Jehovah, pilgrim in this barren land.” I’m a pilgrim in an itinerant world and consequently, those words resonate with the prayerful request for God’s guidance. However, I’m not particularly prone to view the world as a barren land. I see our world filled with a plethora of opportunities and blessings.
Another piece of literature that resonates with me is a poem by Elizabeth Barrett Browning where she wrote,
“Earth’s crammed with heaven,
And every common bush afire with God,
But only he who sees takes off his shoes--
The rest sit around and pluck blackberries.”
Even the most inattentive person, even the most pessimistic mindset could relish in the presence of blackberries!
Ah, the benefits of finding things to give thanks for, the simple things in which we find joy. Having a positive attitude changes the way we see things, particularly the things of God and the small little ways God drops serendipitous blessings into our lives.
I was listening to a podcast called “This American Life,” and the story of a preacher named Carlton Pearson. The topic of the podcast was deep and lengthy, but he said something that caught my ear. He said, “If you believe it, you experience it.”
That statement, from my perspective, means if you look for things to go wrong, they graciously show up and meet your expectations. Then you complain, which only invites more malevolent things into your life. However, if you embrace life with a positive anticipation, you find yourself stumbling over blessing after blessing.
Logically, positive thinking doesn’t literally change what happens to us, but a positive approach changes our focus. Focus is energy. How we look at life makes a bigger difference in how we feel. As some people like to say, “Energy flows where the focus goes.”
I ran across another podcast of Sen. Jeff Flack (R-Arizona) and his contentious relationship with our President (or is it our President’s intricately thorny and awkward relationship with Senator Flake?). Either way, Sen. Flake has great aspirations for our country and often finds himself at odds with the desires and fickle opinions of President Trump. You’d think he’d give up and eschew politics all together.
Instead, in this podcast on “This American Life,” Sen. Flake said, “When you don’t have all the information, assume the best, and look for the good. Things usually work out.”
The narrator of this story shared how that sentiment was written on an index card and posted on the refrigerator in the Flake household as the senetor was growing up. Sen. Flake also added each of his siblings, including himself, now have an index card taped to their respective refrigerators containing those same words.
Assume the best
Look for the good.
Now that’s a pretty good way of looking at life. While such an attitude (or focus) may not literally change what happens to us, it changes how we respond to what happens to us. In and of itself, that idea is life-changing.
One other example of positive expectations recently arrived in my inbox from Pray.com. It simply said, “Faith is going before knowing.” I can’t remember the author’s name.
What this means to me is simply this: We don’t have to know all the details if our trust lies in God’s goodness. That’s the same thought in that hymn, “Guide me, O Thou Great Jehovah!” If we trust in God, we can move out in faith without the prior knowledge of knowing, even without demanding we know all the details.”
Blessings, Grant
Well, on May 19th, I caught glimpses of the “Royal Wedding” on television, not that I was particularly interested, but I was not in possession of the remote control that afternoon so that’s what we watched.
However disinterested I pretended to be, I was touched when they sang, “Guide Me, Thou O Great Redeemer.” It was the same familiar hymn we sing where we use the title “Jehovah” in place of their designation “Redeemer.”
When they sang that hymn at St. George’s Chapel at Windsor Castle, I was reminded of another wedding, only at this other wedding, the bride included her father. George Clooney apparently declined to RSVP or maybe his invitation was lost in the mail.
When we sing this hymn in our congregation, the lyrics that stand out to my ear are found in the opening line, “Guide me, Thou, O Great Jehovah, pilgrim in this barren land.” I’m a pilgrim in an itinerant world and consequently, those words resonate with the prayerful request for God’s guidance. However, I’m not particularly prone to view the world as a barren land. I see our world filled with a plethora of opportunities and blessings.
Another piece of literature that resonates with me is a poem by Elizabeth Barrett Browning where she wrote,
“Earth’s crammed with heaven,
And every common bush afire with God,
But only he who sees takes off his shoes--
The rest sit around and pluck blackberries.”
Even the most inattentive person, even the most pessimistic mindset could relish in the presence of blackberries!
Ah, the benefits of finding things to give thanks for, the simple things in which we find joy. Having a positive attitude changes the way we see things, particularly the things of God and the small little ways God drops serendipitous blessings into our lives.
I was listening to a podcast called “This American Life,” and the story of a preacher named Carlton Pearson. The topic of the podcast was deep and lengthy, but he said something that caught my ear. He said, “If you believe it, you experience it.”
That statement, from my perspective, means if you look for things to go wrong, they graciously show up and meet your expectations. Then you complain, which only invites more malevolent things into your life. However, if you embrace life with a positive anticipation, you find yourself stumbling over blessing after blessing.
Logically, positive thinking doesn’t literally change what happens to us, but a positive approach changes our focus. Focus is energy. How we look at life makes a bigger difference in how we feel. As some people like to say, “Energy flows where the focus goes.”
I ran across another podcast of Sen. Jeff Flack (R-Arizona) and his contentious relationship with our President (or is it our President’s intricately thorny and awkward relationship with Senator Flake?). Either way, Sen. Flake has great aspirations for our country and often finds himself at odds with the desires and fickle opinions of President Trump. You’d think he’d give up and eschew politics all together.
Instead, in this podcast on “This American Life,” Sen. Flake said, “When you don’t have all the information, assume the best, and look for the good. Things usually work out.”
The narrator of this story shared how that sentiment was written on an index card and posted on the refrigerator in the Flake household as the senetor was growing up. Sen. Flake also added each of his siblings, including himself, now have an index card taped to their respective refrigerators containing those same words.
Assume the best
Look for the good.
Now that’s a pretty good way of looking at life. While such an attitude (or focus) may not literally change what happens to us, it changes how we respond to what happens to us. In and of itself, that idea is life-changing.
One other example of positive expectations recently arrived in my inbox from Pray.com. It simply said, “Faith is going before knowing.” I can’t remember the author’s name.
What this means to me is simply this: We don’t have to know all the details if our trust lies in God’s goodness. That’s the same thought in that hymn, “Guide me, O Thou Great Jehovah!” If we trust in God, we can move out in faith without the prior knowledge of knowing, even without demanding we know all the details.”
Blessings, Grant
Yet Another Newsletter Article from March 2018
Most people worry, to varying degrees. Worry is about the most worthless thing we do, largely because what causes us to worry are the things we can’t do anything about.
To put it another way, we worry about the things we can’t change. We worry what the traffic will be like, how the weather is going to affect the ball game, what time the movie will be over.
Can any one of us change those things? No! And yet we worry.
Another aspect of worrying is the energy we expend on what MIGHT happen. We imagine potential possibilities (usually always negative) and our imagination runs wild. We begin to fear the worst.
Is there any good aspect to worrying? Yes! When it changes how we act. When I would worry about getting good grades in school, my worry caused me to study harder. When I worry about getting somewhere on time, I think through my schedule and plan accordingly so I arrive on time. If I worry the traffic will be congested, my worry helps me to leave earlier.
Good worrying is constructive. It moves us to take action. Bad worrying paralyzes us. We may look at a discoloration on our skin and worry its cancer. But we’re afraid to go to the doctor because we worry it might be serious and we worry the doctor might give us bad news. We’d almost rather sit at home and worry than go to the doctor so we can get the facts.
Seriously, get it checked out so you don’t have to worry. And how come we don’t worry the doctor is going to say, “Yeah, that’s nothing. You’re fine.”
How do we best handle worrying? First, experts suggest talking it out with someone, someone who can objectively give us some rationally reasonable suggestions.
Who would I talk to first? God. That’s a no brainer. If there is something worth worrying about, it’s worth praying about. I’m serious!
I’d pray, specifically, for guidance and direction, and for someone who cares enough to help me without whatever is consuming my mental energy in this activity of imagining what might happen. I also should pray with my eyes open because the answer to that prayer might be right in front of me but I was too busy worrying about it to see it.
The best advice I got when I shared my worries was the serenity prayer, that is, recognizing the things I can change, then accepting which things I cannot change, but most of all using my discernment and intelligence to tell the difference.
It bears repeating: We simply spend too much time worrying about what we cannot change.
Second, get the facts. Lots of worrying is caused by the lack of information, or in some cases, misinformation. If I thought the battery in my car was going to crash (like when I left the lights on while shopping at Wal-Mart) and leave me stranded, there are several great places where it can be tested. Now, instead of worrying, I have the assurance it’s fine or I have the heads-up to get it replace. No worries!
Third, make a plan and take action. I might worry how I’m going to buy a new car if the old one breaks down. I might worry what’s going to happen if I lose my job. I might be worrying about that skin discoloration. Okay…so what’s the worst that could happen? What’s really going on? What are our options? How might I handle these changes? We’re not powerless, yet worrying leaves us thinking we’re helpless and hopeless.
Lastly, I think we just need to have a little more faith. Jesus told his followers flat-out: Don’t worry. Jesus said we don’t need to worry about what we’re going to eat, drink, wear or how we’re going to live. All of these things are really in God’s hands, the same God who clothes the fields and feeds the birds. And aren’t we more valuable than those birds?
The best advice I ever heard was spoken by the son of one of our church members. This particular church member, who probably had every right to worry at various stages of his career, didn’t. The son quoted his dad saying,
“It will all work out. It always has. It always will.”
Now that’s a statement of faith! Even if it doesn’t work out the way I want things to work out, or when I want it to work out, God is still at work.
Maybe instead of worrying, we’d be better off doing what we can do and trusting God to work out all the variables and contingencies.
The world is full of things that cause us to worry, and often we are fully justified in our reasons to worry. But the funny thing is, my worrying hasn’t changed those things one bit. Worry should move us to reach out and trust God even more than before. Worry should move us to take action so we don’t have anything left to worry about.
Blessings on a worry-free life, Grant