Memory Tree Homily

This homily was delivered at the St. John's Hospice Memory Tree Service in Berryville, Arkansas on December 5, 2006.

Let us pray…May the words of my mouth and the meditations of our hearts be acceptable to you, O Lord, our rock and our redeemer. Amen.

Listen to the word of the Lord from the Prophet Isaiah 40:1-8, 11 and 28-31[1]

Comfort, O comfort my people,
says your God.
Speak tenderly to Jerusalem,
and cry to her
that she has served her term,
that her penalty is paid,
that she has received from the LORD's hand
double for all her sins.

A voice cries out:
"In the wilderness prepare the way of the LORD,
make straight in the desert a highway for our God.
Every valley shall be lifted up,
and every mountain and hill be made low;
the uneven ground shall become level,
and the rough places a plain.
Then the glory of the LORD shall be revealed,
and all people shall see it together,
for the mouth of the LORD has spoken."

A voice says, "Cry out!"
And I said, "What shall I cry?"
All people are grass,
their constancy is like the flower of the field.
The grass withers, the flower fades,
when the breath of the LORD blows upon it;
surely the people are grass.
The grass withers, the flower fades;
but the word of our God will stand forever.

He will feed his flock like a shepherd;
he will gather the lambs in his arms,
and carry them in his bosom,
and gently lead the mother sheep.

Have you not known? Have you not heard?
The LORD is the everlasting God,
the Creator of the ends of the earth.
He does not faint or grow weary;
his understanding is unsearchable.
He gives power to the faint,
and strengthens the powerless.
Even youths will faint and be weary,
and the young will fall exhausted;
but those who wait for the LORD shall renew their strength,
they shall mount up with wings like eagles,
they shall run and not be weary,
they shall walk and not faint.

This is the Word of the Lord
Thanks be to God

I haven’t been a minister long. In fact, I only recently graduated from seminary. In seminary I had a friend named Rick who plays piano wonderfully. During a particularly stressful time in his first year, another classmate, Dana, asked Rick to come with her to the chapel and play so she could sing. Singing is how she blew off steam and refreshed herself. She had hoped Rick would be willing to help her rejuvenate and prepare for the next round of tests. Rick was gracious and agreed to go with her. Now, everyone in our circle of friends knew Rick had played professionally, so Rick had heard his share of singers. More to the point— Rick had heard his share of wannabe divas who wanted his opinion of their singing voice.

Well, Rick was gracious and played. He didn’t put his whole heart into it because he wasn’t expecting much. Then she began to sing. She put all of her uncertainty, all of her frustration, and all of her pain into song, singing a great hymn of the church. She wasn’t but about three notes in when Rick knew he had to play his heart out if he was going to keep up with her. When they finished, they were both in a better humor, they had gotten rid of some of the stress from classes. For a brief shining moment, all was well and they were ready to face the world.[2]

They felt tossed and turned by what life was throwing at them. Together, through music, they were able to find something familiar, a spot of joy and praise. Together, they found solace in the worship of God through song. The song she sang? Horatio Spafford’s “It Is Well with My Soul.”

The circumstances behind this song are traumatic.[3] Spafford’s business had faced huge set backs because of the Chicago fire of 1871. Scarlet fever claimed his son’s life a year earlier. In 1873, Spafford, his wife Anna, and four daughters were scheduled to take a trip to England, partially for holiday and partially to help D. L. Moody with his mission work in Europe. Mr. Spafford was delayed due to business, but he convinced his wife and family to precede him across the Atlantic. On the trip, their ship, the Ville de Havre collided with the English vessel Lochearn causing it to sink in only twelve minutes. Anna Spafford was the only member of the family to survive.

After getting word of the disaster, Mr. Spafford left as soon as he could book passage. During his voyage, the captain of the ship called Spafford to the bridge and showed him the site of the wreck. The Ville de Havre was laying three miles below them on the ocean floor. Then, Spafford retired to his cabin and wrote the hymn “It Is Well with My Soul.”

In the book of the Prophet Isaiah it is written:

A voice says, "Cry out!"
And I said, "What shall I cry?"

What shall I cry indeed.

This sanctuary is filled with people who have asked that very question. Some cry out like Abraham. After learning of the death of his son Joseph, Abraham ripped his clothes and covered himself in ashes. Some react like Naomi after the deaths of her husband and sons. She tells her friends, “Call me no longer Naomi, call me Mara, for the Almighty has dealt bitterly with me.” Others, in their pain and grief write hymns trying to find reassurance in the words and images of the faith.

In a broken world, each of these people was precisely in tune with their brokenness. Their lives had been tossed tea kettle over spout. Their feelings of brokenness were raw and exposed like a nerve.

As the wind turns cold in the Ozarks, the grass withers and the flower fades just as Isaiah prophesies. The exposed nerves have begun to be dulled, maybe even begun to heal. This then is when we begin to hear the voice crying out on the wind:

"In the wilderness prepare the way of the LORD,
make straight in the desert a highway for our God.
Every valley shall be lifted up,
and every mountain and hill be made low;
the uneven ground shall become level,
and the rough places a plain.
Then the glory of the LORD shall be revealed,
and all people shall see it together,
for the mouth of the LORD has spoken."

Advent is the season of the coming of the Lord when we make straight the highways, lift the valleys, and make low the hills and mountains. The way is prepared in our homes, in our churches and in our selves. This is difficult for those who mourn. Joy and glee seem to have no purchase in the heart of one covered in sackcloth and ash. Times like this, it is easy to feel out of place with what our society proposes we should feel and say.

Yet give thanks that our mourning, our brokenness is shared by our Lord and Messiah. With thanks and praise, I offer again the words of Isaiah saying:

Comfort, O comfort my people,
says your God.
Speak tenderly to Jerusalem,
and cry to her
that she has served her term,
that her penalty is paid.

God takes our brokenness. God takes our mourning. God takes what we offer. Somehow, in ways I cannot hope to understand or even imagine, God takes our grief and lifts us up. Yes, we still feel sorrow. Yes, there is still grief. Yes, we mourn. And it is with these offerings that the Lord lifts up the valleys and makes low the mountains. Through the Advent, the coming of Jesus Christ, our trials, sorrow, and pain are made glorious by the one who came to earth.

Our reading from Isaiah concludes:

The LORD is the everlasting God,
the Creator of the ends of the earth.
He does not faint or grow weary;
his understanding is unsearchable.
He gives power to the faint,
and strengthens the powerless.

In the Lord is our strength. With and through the strength of God, our brokenness becomes praise. Mourning becomes a blessed state. When Horatio Spafford wrote, “It Is Well with My Soul,” he was surely in the throes of grief. But through the healing power of the Lord, God has the last word on the day when we are able to see of our faith, the day when the clouds roll back, the trumpet resounds and the Lord descends. Then as Spafford reminds us, even so, even through this pain, because the Lord is coming in power and great glory, it is well with my soul. As Isaiah reminds us, the Lord will gather his lambs in his arms, carrying us in his bosom.

[1] New Revised Standard Version
[2] Rick Brooks is now an ordained minister in Charlotte, North Carolina. Dana Boes, is now an ordained minister in Las Vegas, Nevada.
[3] Mackey, Rev. Dr. Jeffrey A., “The Reality of My Brokenness,” Sharing—A Journal of Christian Healing. January 2006, San Antonio: The International Order of St. Luke the Physician, pages 1-4.