Some time ago, I listened to an interview with Dr. Rachel Naomi Remen. She spoke about a twenty-four-year-old young man who had to have one of his legs amputated to stop the spread of bone cancer. He had become angry and bitter.

Eventually, Dr. Ramen was able to help him come to grips with his loss. And as he recovered, she encouraged him to reach out and help others – to turn from an inward, self-focused grief, to an outward focus. So the young man began to visit others with physical disabilities, to share his own story of recovery and hope. 

One day he visited a young woman who had just been operated on for an aggressive type of breast cancer. She was suffering from deep depression. Her room was silent, aside from the radio playing by her bed. She wasn’t really responding, and he seemed unable to get through to her. Desperate to make a connection, he took off his artificial leg and began dancing around the room on his one good leg to the rhythm of the radio. Sure enough, the woman began laughing, and said, “Okay, if you can dance, I can sing.” And she did. 

About a year after the young man’s turnaround, he sat down with Dr. Remen to wrap up his therapy. At one point, they looked over some of the artwork he had done early on, and they discussed how his views of life had changed. One picture expressed it beautifully. When he had been asked to draw a picture of his body, he had at first drawn a vase with an ugly, jagged crack running down the middle. This crack represented all the anger, bitterness, and disgust that had filled his heart after he lost his leg. He had seen himself as broken, and therefore, useless. 

However, as the young man now looked at this picture, he knew it no longer represented how he felt. He took out a yellow crayon and drew vibrant yellow streamers pouring from the crack in the vase. Then he explained to the doctor, “You see, where it is broken, this is where the light shines through.” 

All of this makes me think about the brokenness in my own life, and in yours. And I wonder in what ways we are allowing the light to shine through. 

Let us pray: God of Grace, we have all experienced loss. Some of us today are carrying heavy burdens. We all have some measure of brokenness within us. We pray for healing. We pray for grace. But please don’t stop there, O God. May your light shine in us, and through us. Amen. 

The year that I taught High School in Jamaica, I’ll never forget the first PTA meeting I attended. The vice-principal gave a speech where she encouraged the parents to teach their children how to use flush toilets because many of the new students had never seen one. She also encouraged the parents – even though they themselves might not know how to read – to encourage their children to spend time reading and not to be jealous of their education. The struggles they faced were far from anything I could have ever imagined.

At the end of this PTA meeting, a young student led us in a devotional she had prepared. And as a part of that devotional, she read a testimony. I don’t know who actually wrote it. I’ve seen it in other places since. But when I heard it in that setting, amidst great poverty, it hit me in the most profound way and I asked her for a copy of it. She said:

I asked God for strength that I might achieve. I was made weak that I might learn humility. I asked for riches that I might be happy, I was given poverty that I might be wise. I asked for power that I might have the praise of others. I was given weakness that I might feel the need of God. I asked for all things that I might enjoy life. I was given life that I might enjoy all things. I got nothing that I asked for – but everything I needed… Almost despite myself, my unspoken prayers were answered. I among all people am most richly blessed. 

Many of our students came to school hungry. Many lived in homes that had dirt floors and no running water. Yet, in the face of all that, this young girl could claim with great sincerity that she among all people is most richly blessed. 

Now I don’t believe that God gives poverty or weakness. But I do believe that if we are open – God can work through our circumstances, work through our weakness – and work through our sufferings – to bring beauty and meaning and even new life. I’ve seen it time and time again, and I know you have too.

The scriptures tell us story after story about how – in the midst of great brokenness and despair – God does something completely new and beautiful and unexpected! The scriptures paint this beautiful picture of a God who is at work taking the broken, the hurting, the bad, and making it whole and new. 

Let us pray: At times, O God, it’s difficult to see a bigger picture. At times, it is difficult to imagine any kind of redemption. It is difficult to imagine the dry bones we see scattered everywhere living again. Help us in these times, not to become cynical, not to become hard-hearted, not to become bitter, or to blame others, but to trust your Spirit is at work beyond anything we can begin to imagine. Meet us at the deepest point of our need today. We ask in Jesus’ name. Amen. 

One year our choir director led our Sunday school class in a study of Paul’s letter to the Ephesians. He had us do a pretty interesting exercise. He asked us to read the first three chapters and list all the things God has done for us in Christ. It really is amazing. For three chapters, Paul goes on and on about who we already are, what’s already been done for us, and what’s already true.

Paul tells us we are blessed, chosen, predestined, given, redeemed, forgiven, included, marked, made alive, saved, raised up, seated with, created, brought near; we are fellow citizens, members, being built together. There is not one single command for the first half of the letter. He doesn’t tell us to do anything. He simply recalls who we are and how much we are loved.

Our teacher reminded the class that Paul wrote the letter this way because he knew that what we believe about ourselves would ultimately shape how we live.  

So what do you believe about yourself? Regardless of anything you have done or failed to do, Paul claims that you are loved, chosen, blessed, forgiven, redeemed…. 

May you hear and believe.

Let us pray: God of grace, we thank you for your unconditional love. Help us to accept this love and share it with a world desperately in need. Amen.

Keith Miller tells a wonderful story about a busy executive in an eastern city who was rushing to catch a commuter train one morning. The executive had an important meeting at the office, and he needed to make this train in order to get there on time. Just as he was about to board the train, he accidentally bumped into a little boy who was carrying a boxed jigsaw puzzle. The box went flying, and the pieces scattered everywhere. What should he do? Should he stop and help the little boy pick up the pieces? Or, should he get on the train? He couldn’t do both; there was not enough time! If he stopped to help, he would miss the train and be late. What should he do? What would you have done? Well, the man stopped and helped the boy pick up the puzzle as the train pulled out. The little boy watched him closely with a kind of awe. The little boy said, “Mister, you missed your train.” “I know,” the man said. “Will you be late to work?’ the boy asked. “Yes, but it was more important that I stop and help you.” Then the little boy said, “Mister, can I ask you a question?” “Yes, of course.” “Mister, are you Jesus?” 

Keith Miller wrote, “And for the moment, the man realized that – on that platform – he had been.” 

The little boy saw the light of Jesus in that man’s act of Christ-like love. 

Friend of Dial Hope, during these difficult days, how is it with you? Can people see in you Christ’s spirit of forgiveness? And can people see in you Christ’s love?

Let us pray: Creator God, you are eagle, you are a dove, you are color and sound, you are wind and fire. How great Thou art! Your world is indeed full of pain as well as joy. Be especially with those who can’t sleep, with those who are fearful, who have little hope. Spread your love like a well-worn and beloved jacket over those who need comfort and love. For we pray in the name of the Prince of Peace, our Lord Jesus Christ. Amen.

In a recent theological journal, Austin Seminary professor David White tells the story of Le Chambon, a little village in southern France. 

“One day in 1942, during World War II, two buses of French police pulled into this village to round up Jews who were given refuge there. The police captain gathered everyone into the village square, and warned the Protestant pastor, Andre Troche, that if he did not give up the names of the Jews the village had been sheltering, he… as well as the families who had been caring for them, would be arrested.

“The pastor refused. And after a thorough and frightening search, the police could find only one Jew. They loaded him into an otherwise empty bus. But before they drove off, a thirteen-year-old boy, the son of the pastor, passed a piece of his precious chocolate through the window to the prisoner, while twenty soldiers guarding the lone prisoner stood by and watched. Then the rest of the villagers began passing their little gifts through the window until there were gifts all around him – most of it was food… which was also precious in those hungry days of the German occupation of France.”

Apparently, over the course of just a few years, this small village gave protection, shelter, and food to more than 5,000 Jews fleeing the Nazis. These acts of kindness were done at great risk and at considerable cost.

But how did this village rise to this occasion? 

David White draws on another scholar named Craig Dykstra who claims that it was the ordinary practices of worship and faith that shaped the ethos of this community. He believed that without even realizing it, they were being trained in habits of generosity and hospitality, welcoming each other into their homes, and providing shelter for travelers, and food for the sick. These rituals had somehow prepared the folks in this village to answer that knock at their door with steely resolve. 

As Christians, we’ve long had these rituals… We retell these stories. Bread is broken. Sins forgiven… The cup is shared. Grace is extended. Could it be that these stories, these acts, seep into our bones – without us even realizing it? Could it be in part, that we are long cultivating habits; habits of forgiving, habits of giving, habits of serving others, habits of eating with those and loving those with whom we disagree?

Now I have no idea, honestly, how we would respond if faced with the same terrifying situation as that of the people of Le Chambon. I’m sure other faithful people at that time did not respond so valiantly. But I do believe that through our worship and shared practices, something deeper is happening with us. And perhaps, just perhaps, when it comes to facing the heartache, the betrayal, and the injustice of this world, perhaps… we are more prepared than we think.

Let us pray: We ask loving God, that you continue to shape our lives in such a way that we live with courage, conviction, and love; through Jesus Christ. Amen.