Weekday Email to Members and Friends – 2021-03-24
Wednesday, March 24th, 2021
A weekday e-mailer from
Matt Matthews
To Members and Friends of
First Presbyterian Church
Champaign, Illinois
Friends,
Join us for our Wednesday Night Zoom at 7:00 tonight for a discussion led by our Spiritual Formation Team. We must recognize compassion and reach out a helping hand, regardless of what someone has done. So says ER doctor Amy Ho. It may be hard to do after so much recent violence, including mass shootings; let’s talk about it.
Email zoom@firstpres.church for the link.
* * *
Here’s the Lenten Devotional from Presbyterian Outlook.
Wednesday, MARCH 24, 2021
MATTHEW 25:31-46
The parable of the sheep and goats is not a scenario of individual judgment; “all the nations” are gathered before the Son of Man and held accountable. Have they tended to “the least of these,” feeding the hungry, giving drink to the thirsty, welcoming strangers, clothing the naked, caring for the sick and visiting those in prison? The parable invites reflection on the church’s engagement in civic matters and its public witness to God’s
concern for “the least” among us.
Practice: Prayerfully read this passage from Matthew, meditating on “the
least” in your community. How might the church embody God’s concern
for their well-being in its public witness?
Journal: Write in your journal of your experience reading and praying
this passage from Matthew.
* * *
News:
OOps! The palms we had planned to distribute today from noon to 1 pm have been held up in transit. Palm distribution will be moved to this Friday, March 26, from noon to 1 pm. Simply drive through the alley between those times and pick up your palm(s) from our masked marvels!
* * *
I’m so glad to see you coming back for in-person worship. When you’re ready, when you feel safe, please come. Remember to preregister by calling the church office from Monday 8:30 to noon on Friday. A preregistration will guarantee your spot; if you come without a reservation, we may not have room to seat you.
(Can you believe your pastor just wrote those words? We aren’t a restaurant, we’re a church, and we espouse a theology that there’s always room for one more. But not so when one is avoiding crowds to stave off infection during a pandemic. Such strange times. Forgive me for sounding like a maître d’. However you get there, via our on-line service or in person, I look forward to seeing you on Sunday.)
CYF will be hosting a Spirituality Center in the church chapel for the season of Lent. Open House hours will be Sundays 11am-2:30pm. Come for some quiet reflection time by walking the labyrinth, contemplating scripture, and creating at your own pace. One household will be admitted at a time. Check in and temperature recordings will be necessary as well as face masks while in the building and chapel. Sanitizing wipes will be at each station for further protection between visitors. We hope you will find it a blessing for this season of inward contemplation and examination.
Sunday School continues. Follow this link for a virtual version of the Lenten Spirituality Center Lenten Spirituality Center
* * *
Humor (Hard times really need godly laughter):
An annual competition is held by The New York Times to see who can create the best original lexophile. This year’s submissions (more coming):
Police were summoned to a daycare center where a 3-year-old was resisting a rest.
Did you hear about the fellow whose entire left side was cut off? He’s all right now.
A bicycle can’t stand alone; it’s just two tired.
The guy who fell onto an upholstery machine last week is now fully recovered.
* * *
Good Word
Mark 11:1-11 (Palm Sunday is coming…)
[The Message] 1-3 When they were nearing Jerusalem, at Bethphage and Bethany on Mount Olives, he sent off two of the disciples with instructions: “Go to the village across from you. As soon as you enter, you’ll find a colt tethered, one that has never yet been ridden. Untie it and bring it. If anyone asks, ‘What are you doing?’ say, ‘The Master needs him, and will return him right away.’”
4-7 They went and found a colt tied to a door at the street corner and untied it. Some of those standing there said, “What are you doing untying that colt?” The disciples replied exactly as Jesus had instructed them, and the people let them alone. They brought the colt to Jesus, spread their coats on it, and he mounted.
8-10 The people gave him a wonderful welcome, some throwing their coats on the street, others spreading out rushes they had cut in the fields. Running ahead and following after, they were calling out,
Hosanna!
Blessed is he who comes in God’s name!
Blessed the coming kingdom of our father David!
Hosanna in highest heaven!
11 He entered Jerusalem, then entered the Temple. He looked around, taking it all in. But by now it was late, so he went back to Bethany with the Twelve.
LET US PRAY
Holy God, your son dares to ride into our lives on a colt. Not on a steed. Not in a golden chariot. Not even in a domestic convertible. But on a lowly colt, and not with armed guard and a fanfare of trumpets, but surrounded by a pick-up-parade of people waving palm branches and shouting like, like—shouters. No arias in Latin. No processional song sung in harmony. No marching band, but unruly shouts, like at a Black Lives Matter march or at a basketball game. Lacking a red carpet, some in the crowd threw their coats on the ground padding the way for this unlikely, but memorable, entry of Your holy son into the holy city on the hill.
Forgive them, Lord, for they know not how to make a proper entrance.
You, O God, know Jesus deserved better, and had we been there, given a little time, we would have tried to arrange it. A rented chariot, perhaps. A rehearsed choir. We would at least have lined everyone up. It would have been more dignified.
But we weren’t on the committee that planned this Palm Sunday parade. As always, Jesus did it his way. The animal on which he rode was humble, yes, but pure, never having been ridden before. And what the crowd lacked in dignity they made up with joy and sheer volume. This was a celebrated entrance if not a dignified one.
Open our hearts, Merciful God, that we might receive Jesus no matter how he comes. How ever he comes, might we take our cue from that Jerusalem crowd. Might we make a little joyful, unruly noise. Might we make room for him. And might we join the throng,
blessing,
blessing,
blessing
the One
who comes
in the name of the LORD.
AMEN.
* * *
Much, much love to you all.
Matt Matthews
Cell: 864.386.9138
Matt@FirstPres.Church
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Weekday Email to Members and Friends – 2021-03-23
| Lenten Daily Devotion Tuesday, MARCH 23, 2021 MATTHEW 17:1-8 This story takes us to a mountaintop with Jesus and his disciples, where he is transfigured before them, his face shining like the sun and his clothes dazzling white as a cloud overshadows them. Most startling of all, however, is the very voice of God, which we rarely hear in the Gospel stories. That voice was heard at Jesus’ baptism, and commands our attention as it is now heard for the second time in Matthew’s narrative, declaring: “This is my Son, my beloved with whom I am well pleased; listen to him!” Practice: Prayerfully read this story and enter into the scene in your imagination, noting what it evokes in you. Listen as the divine voice identifies Jesus and urges you to “Listen to him!” When you think of listening to Jesus, what do you recall hearing and learning from him — from both his words and the life that he lived? Journal: Note briefly in your journal what you remember of the essential teachings of Jesus. Wednesday, |
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The Heart of Mission Looking to the future, volunteer extraordinaire Warren Charter has been working hard to help improve our use of space in the Phoenix Center, getting rid of clutter and preparing for the addition of a new computer center for our friends to use to look for work and complete online applications for jobs, housing, and other social services! Progress has also been made on water-damage restoration work in C-U at Austin’s Place, allowing the hopeful return of the women’s shelter here to our building in the near future! Wednesday, March 24, God’s love is shown in so many ways. Find three things you can do today or tomorrow to share God’s love. Let us keep all our mission partners in our prayers, those who are waiting to go back to their place of ministry and those who are able to work where they are. Listen for God’s call to you in their ministry. |
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Weekday Email to Members and Friends – 2021-03-22
Monday, March 22nd, 2021
A weekday e-mailer from
Matt Matthews
To Members and Friends of
First Presbyterian Church
Champaign, Illinois
Friends,
This past Saturday at Mark Warren’s memorial, we sat masked in the South Carolina funeral home chapel. We were socially distanced, gargoyles in the pews, our thoughts spinning and bodies aching with the low-grade fever of grief. I didn’t know Mark well. His brother, though, is my oldest friend in this world. Besides my boys, John is part of the shrinking circle that is my next of kin.
The gospel choir took off their masks to sing their anthems. Here, in the capitol city, they treat Covid like alligators. They know the beasts exist in the Congaree River that skirts Columbia, but the odds are in human favor so long as you keep your distance from that muddy shore. The choir sang and clapped. It’s hard not to get lost in the music. When I hummed along, my breath from behind my mask steamed my glasses.
I cry at funerals. There’s so much I’m glad about and sad about. All the losses I’ve experienced have a way of crowding onto me at once. I’m sitting with my mom and dad, and they’ve both been gone long enough that it shouldn’t feel like yesterday, but it does. My grandmother is squeezing my hand like a stress ball while wind batters the funeral tent. Staked canvas holds the gusts only slightly at bay. Nothing but our bones hold the winter cold. The tent does all the heaving. My Baba doesn’t shed a tear for her only son as he is lowered down into that Tidewater ground. But I did then, and I sure enough do now. I let the tears come. John Mark puts his arm around his old man and gives me a squeeze. Never mind that I also cry at Disney movies and diaper commercials on TV.
Pictures of Mark flash across the screen behind the choir. In his younger days he could have been a model for the jet set—handsome, thin, and strong with a mustache that made him look like a Hollywood natural. There’s a picture of his mother holding him as a baby. I remember Mrs. Warren. She was a hoot. I preached her funeral service years ago and remember glancing down from the pulpit to the front row to her two sons sitting there so young and alive. We were going to live forever.
At Mark’s service, I appreciated the preacher’s words and those of the fifteen other speakers, mostly family, who gave heartfelt tribute and meaningful condolence. But one can take only so many words at once, no matter how healing they are. Silence and reflection is what gives words meaning for me. I needed some of both to let the many graces of the service to sink in. When the preacher finally dismissed us after his “few words” that took the better part of the hour, we walked out gingerly, mindful of alligators.
Ushers dismissed us row by row, and we caught the end of the line that yanked us swiftly down the center of the wide aisle to the side doors out into momentary sunshine with the choir clapping us home and singing I’ll Fly Away as if actual flight were imminent. Gospel choirs don’t sing like wishful thinkers.
We spilled out at the front bumpers of a fleet of polished white limos idling to take the family home. A few of the men who spoke at the service stood together in a huddle. I walked up to these tall, large men who looked like rocks in charcoal suits and asked them what elementary school they went to. When they spoke during the service, they identified themselves as old friends of Mark’s from Hampton, our mutual home town. They had graduated with Mark from Hampton High the year before me and John.
They were taken aback by my question.
“You graduated Hampton High,” I said, “so where did you go to elementary school? I’m from Hampton, also.”
That broke the ice. We commenced having old home week on the spot. Some went to Wythe Elementary, where John and I went, where above the high arching doors these words were carved into stone, Enter to learn; leave to serve. Yep, they remembered those words from those long-ago years. One fella went to Robert E. Lee, and if we weren’t in a pandemic, and if a pig pickin’ followed that service, which it did not, I would have asked him, What was it like for a little black boy to attend a school named after a confederate general? I’m guessing it didn’t bother him then. We were just children, and a lot of things scared you then besides the name of the school. But it probably bothered him now. A lot. I might have asked him that had time and circumstance allowed. I would have entered that conversation thoughtfully, respectfully. It might have gone down like a prayer.
I could tell by the laugh lines around their eyes these big men were smiling. If they didn’t play football then, they could have. They could have turned over some of the cars in that parking lot with their bare hands had somebody forty-years-ago double-dared them to try. It was good to be standing in their huddle now, to introduce them to my youngest son, John Mark, my wingman in a blue Jos A Banks suit.
It was good to be standing out of doors in the fresh air with people who shared some of the same, wrought story. Because of Mark Warren, we had landed on the asphalt shores of a Soda City funeral home, sharing the sun, translating life’s deep mystery by way of small talk. God’s grace is sometime a falling star that flares quickly like a blink, like a tear. It’s just enough to make your heart jump. My heart was pounding.
I’ll never see those fellas again.
* * *
When one is in a funeral state of mind, one thinks of who you’re going to see again, and when.
The preacher said we’ll see Mark again on the other side of Jordan. Dry bones and singed ashes will have come together for a resurrection dance, and a glad reunion awaits us, where we won’t stand emaciated and barely alive, but hale and hearty and looking redeemed and glorified, which, I presume, means happy and satisfied and, at least, relieved.
But when would I see John again? We’re planning to meet in NYC like we’ve done before as soon as pandemic will allow. We’re eating Chilean sea bass at that place in Hell’s Kitchen around the corner from Birdland. We’ll catch a set of jazz, which John doesn’t like but I do, and, maybe, we’ll buy Arturo O’Farrell a drink. We’ll catch a play. We’ll walk across the Brooklyn Bridge even though John’s knees are getting bad and we might have to catch an Uber halfway. Two years ago, we met in Chicago. We met another friend and sailed out of the Chicago harbor into Lake Michigan. That friend died unexpectedly three months later. The memory of that day, though, still shines, so much so, I’m not sure if anybody died, after all.
I saw John, his wife, and son walking away at the far end of the parking lot. My son and I jogged over to say goodbye. We hugged. They were flying out on Sunday. It was a quick trip. Celeste travels a lot for her job. This was like a business trip, family business, the business of burying John’s brother. When you’re at a funeral, are you closing an old chapter or opening a new chapter? What were we doing, exactly? What was happening? This was a business trip for all of us—a numbing, surreal trip to mark a milestone, to thank God for a life we’ll miss. The gospel choir had called out our destination. The preacher even offered to punch our ticket.
Hugging a friend is a funeral home parking lot puts everything on shaky ground. Through the soles of your shoes, you feel the tectonic plates grind and time dimensions blur back and forth. You’re not only blinking back tears. The now and then come in and out of rapid focus. John and I both presume there will be other times of gathering, other times to make memories and to remember and make sense of this one. We’re counting on it.
When we hugged this time, it took us both a little longer to let go.
* * *
PEACE,
Matt Matthews
matt@firstpres.church
* * *
Lenten Daily Devotion
Monday, MARCH 22, 2021
LUKE 9:12-17
The story of Jesus’ feeding of 5,000 people is the only miracle story found in all four Gospels, which highlights its importance in the memories and imaginations of early Christians. The story prompts our reflection on how we perceive ourselves and the world around us: do we perceive and act out of a sense of scarcity or a sense of abundance? Scarcity is the world’s logic, but abundance is the gospel’s logic.
Practice: Prayerfully read this story several times and imaginatively
enter into the scene. How does it challenge your perception of scarcity or
of God’s abundance?
Journal: Note in your journal any movements of your spirit that you
discern – toward God or away from God – as you prayed with this
Scripture.
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Weekday Email to Members and Friends – 2021-03-19
Friday, March 19th, 2021
A weekday e-mailer from
Matt Matthews
To Members and Friends of
First Presbyterian Church
Champaign, Illinois
Friends,
The Lenten Devotionals from the Presbyterian Outlook for this weekend are at the very bottom of this email. May they be a blessing to/for you and those you love.
* * *
Eight people were killed at three massage spas in Georgia on Tuesday night. Six were Asian, seven were women. Our sisters were killed by a white man in a time when anti-Asian hate incidents are terrifyingly high. The group Stop Asian And Pacific Islander community Hate—Stop AAPI Hate—count 3,800 anti-Asian racist incidents in the last year. Most targeted women.
As we hold the whole world in our prayers, let’s pause and hold our local community in our prayers, particularly our Asian friends.
The best way I know to love the world, to serve the world, to be friends with the world, to heal the world, to engage the world, to be healthily part of the world is to be part of my church. On Sunday, we’ll celebrate God and pray for the world.
Join us on-line at 9:00 a.m. FirstPres.Live or, if you feel safe, in person at 10:15 (preregistration before noon today is preferred as we are almost at-capacity for this Sunday).
See you then.
Much, much love to you all.
Matt Matthews
Cell: 864.386.9138
Matt@FirstPres.Church
I shall be released
https://www.youtube.com/watch?
In need of a friend?
https://www.youtube.com/watch?
* * *
A Timely Prayer/Gimme Shelter
Mick Jagger/Keith Richards
Ooh, a storm is threatening
My very life today
If I don’t get some shelter
Ooh yeah I’m gonna fade away
War, children
It’s just a shot away
It’s just a shot away
War, children
It’s just a shot away
It’s just a shot away
Ooh, see the fire is sweepin’
Our streets today
Burns like a red coal carpet
Mad bull lost its way
War, children
It’s just a shot away
It’s just a shot away
War, children
It’s just a shot away
It’s just a shot away
Rape, murder, it’s just a shot away
It’s just a shot away
Rape, murder, yeah, it’s just a shot away
It’s just a shot away
Rape, murder, it’s just a shot away
It’s just a shot away
Mmm, a flood is threatening
My very life today
Gimme, gimme shelter
Or I’m gonna fade away
War, children
It’s just a shot away
It’s just a shot away
It’s just a shot away
It’s just a shot away
It’s just a shot away
I tell you love, sister
It’s just a kiss away
It’s just a kiss away
It’s just a kiss away
It’s just a kiss away
It’s just a kiss away
Kiss away, kiss away
* * *
Lenten Daily Devotion
Friday, MARCH 19, 2021
LUKE 6:6:36–42
Another hard teaching of Jesus is before us: “Do not judge, and you will not be judged.” In the hyperpolarized times in which we live, judging others is part of daily discourse and seems to have become a virtue rather than a vice. This passage challenges that notion at its very core. Today’s Scripture, combined with yesterday’s injunction to love our enemies, highlights mercy as a central characteristic of the Christian life — because God is merciful, and we are God’s children and are to reflect that family resemblance.
Practice: Prayerfully read this passage, mulling over aspects of it that
stand out to you and that resonate with your own experience. Reflect on
ways in which the merciful character of God informs our identity as God’s
own children.
Journal: Note in your journal what happened as you prayed with this
text.
Saturday, MARCH 20, 2021
LUKE 6:43-49
Jesus’ teaching in this passage is very simple yet weighty: good trees produce good fruit. Thus, good conduct comes from a good heart. Moreover, the words that come out of our mouths reflect what is in our hearts.
Practice: Prayerfully read and reflect on this Scripture, with special
attention to the connection between fruit and tree — between action and
heart, and speech and heart.
Journal: Note in your journal key reflections that emerged in your prayer
with this passage of Scripture.
Week 5
MARCH 21-27, 2021
Transfiguration and transformation
HYMN OF THE WEEK: “Crown Him with Many Crowns”
PRAYER FOCUS: Supplication — As I pour out my heart as a needy person, what do I long for from God? What friends or relations are hurting? Where would I love to see God’s healing power at work?
ACTION: Reflect on a mentor or teacher from your past who helped you grow in some way. Reach out to those you can to share what their influence meant to your life.
Sunday, MARCH 21, 2021
LUKE 8:22-25
As you pray this passage, imagine that you are present in the boat with Jesus and his disciples, endangered by the raging wind and waves of a storm. The boat is often depicted as a symbol of the church. As you pray
with this text, think of storms that currently endanger your life and the life of the church and that threaten to undo us.
Practice: Prayerfully read this story and enter into the boat with Jesus and the disciples. What assurance or challenge do you hear Jesus addressing to you in the midst of storms?
Journal: Note in your journal what emerged in your prayer time, and your
sense of movements of your spirit toward God or away from God as you
prayed with this text.
Read more...
Weekday Email to Members and Friends – 2021-03-18
Thursday, March 18th, 2021
A weekday e-mailer from
Matt Matthews
To Members and Friends of
First Presbyterian Church
Champaign, Illinois
Friends,
Here’s the Lenten Devotional from Presbyterian Outlook.
Thursday, MARCH 18, 2021
LUKE 6:27-36
In this scene from Luke’s Sermon on the Plain, Jesus exhorts us to love our enemies — surely one of the hardest things he asks us to do. Theologian Miroslav Volf claims that loving our enemies goes to the heart of the Christian faith. In his book “A Public Faith,” he writes: “Love doesn’t mean agreement and approval; it means benevolence and beneficence, possible disagreement and disapproval notwithstanding.” Thus, loving our enemies does not absolve us or deter us from pursuing justice as we understand it, from our calling to stand in solidarity with the marginalized among us, or from calling evil by its name. Justice and mercy go together — both are works of God.
Practice: Prayerfully read this passage from Luke and reflect deeply on
what it might mean to love your enemies. When you think of your enemies,
who comes to mind? Members of your family or church? Fellow citizens?
Foreign adversaries? If you are to pray for your enemies, what will you pray
for? As you reflect on Jesus’ admonitions, what do they compel you to do?
Journal: Note in your journal any insights that emerged from your
prayerful engagement with Jesus’ teaching.
* * *
Bruce Reyes-Chow recently spoke words that got me to thinking. He said when Pandemic began, he started various church programs (he’s a pastor and former moderator of our denomination) and practices that made sense at the time. We all hunkered down in unique ways. We adapted new patterns.
“I found that I couldn’t hold the intensity for the whole time,” he said during a recent Zoom. He has noticed that he (in his pastoral duties) and we (in our daily duties) might be pushing the edge, attempting to do more than we can do. He notices about himself that we have over-functioned, over-extended, and have become over-whelmed.
As we dream a new normal, may we walk before we run. If we don’t take care of ourselves, we’ll arrive at The New Day exhausted, or worse. Continue to take care of yourselves. Wear your mask. Be safe.
Beth Hutchens shares this timely prayer…
Deep peace of the running wave to you.
Deep peace of the flowing air to you.
Deep peace of the quiet earth to you.
Deep peace of the shining stars to you.
Deep peace of the gentle night to you.
Moon and stars pour their healing light on you.
Deep peace of Christ,
of Christ the light of the world to you.
Deep peace of Christ to you.
* * *
News:
I’m so glad to see you coming back for in-person worship. When you’re ready, when you feel safe, please come. Remember to preregister by calling the church office from Monday 8:30 to noon on Friday.
* * *
CYF will be hosting a Spirituality Center in the church chapel for the season of Lent beginning this Sunday. Open House hours will be Sundays 11am-2:30pm. Come for some quiet reflection time by walking the labyrinth, contemplating scripture, and creating at your own pace. One household will be admitted at a time. Check in and temperature recordings will be necessary as well as face masks while in the building and chapel. Sanitizing wipes will be at each station for further protection between visitors. We hope you will find it a blessing for this season of inward contemplation and examination.
Sunday school continues. Follow this link for a virtual version of the Lenten Spirituality Center Lenten Spirituality Center
* * *
Humor (Hard times really need godly laughter):
An annual competition is held by The New York Times to see who can create the best original lexophile. This year’s submissions (more coming):
When the smog lifts in Los Angeles, U.C.L.A.
I got some batteries that were given out free of charge.
A dentist & a manicurist married. They fought tooth & nail.
* * *
Good Word
Amos 5:24
let justice roll down like waters,
and righteousness like an ever-flowing stream.
LET US PRAY
Holy God, I’m hungry and you give me food. I am thirsty and you give me fluorinated, clean water from easy-to-access taps everywhere I go. I am naked, I am sick, I am imprisoned.
I,
I,
I,
Forgive me for thinking about me first:
I,
me,
mine,
I cannot see the world,
I cannot see my neighbor,
I cannot see into the headlines
BECAUSE
I so often spend so much time gazing, gazing, gazing into my mirror. I’m so enamored with me. And so, my problems, my dreams, my wants, my faults, my life becomes amplified and distorted. And I see that I’m not created in your image so much as I am mis-shapened by my anxieties and selfishness.
Heal me and forgive me and help me. Help me repent. Help me to turn. Help me to turn to you. And help me to face my neighbors near and far that you call me to love and serve.
Help me to reach out—
So many around me are hungry—literally and spiritually…
So many thirst for clean water—in Malawi, in growing American cities with polluted well water that can’t keep up with demand for clean water…
So many are naked to the cold…
So many are sick without healthcare, without a loving church family to surround and encourage them…
So many are warehoused in prison; they never can see the stars…
Turn my head. Gently, gently tune my vision.
That I might see my neighbors and rejoice in what I see, in what YOU see,
that I might reach out with love and service to the humanity you have redeemed (through your blood and you tears and your sacrifice)—like a mother bending near her child, like a father praying on his knees, on his aching knees for his beloved. Thank you, merciful God, for your love. Teach me to love like that.
Fill me up so that I can empty myself again and again and again with great delight in the name and manner of your son, Our Lord,
Jesus,
Jesus,
Jesus-the-Christ.
AMEN.
* * *
Much, much love to you all.
Matt Matthews
Cell: 864.386.9138
Matt@FirstPres.Church
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Weekday Email to Members and Friends – 2021-03-17
Wednesday, March 17th, 2021
A weekday e-mailer from
Matt Matthews
To Members and Friends of
First Presbyterian Church
Champaign, Illinois
Friends,
Here’s the Lenten Devotional from Presbyterian Outlook.
Wednesday, MARCH 17, 2021
LUKE 5:1-11
This story about Jesus’ calling of the first disciples invites us to consider our own calling as disciples. Have you ever felt called to put your boat into deep water and been uncomfortable or challenged by that call? It is not easy to be a disciple of Jesus. So if we follow Jesus, we too might be called into deep waters to face into the brokenness of our world.
Practice: Read this lesson slowly and imagine yourself in the scene.
Where are you in this story and what do you see, hear and feel?
Journal: Write in your journal of your experience of praying this story,
and the movement of your spirit toward God or away from God that
engagement with it evoked.
* * *
As I make preparation to journey to my friend John’s brother’s funeral, I’m thinking of the Lenten lyrics that speak to me of friendship, loss, and hope. What lyrics would you share?
* * *
You get a shiver in the dark
It’s a raining in the park but meantime—
South of the river you stop and you hold everything (Mark Knopfler)
A pilgrim on a pilgrimage
walked across the Brooklyn Bridge (Paul Simon)
Sometimes I see a narrow flash of light (Bruce Hornsby)
I know it’s not much, but it’s the best I can do.
My gift is my song, and this one’s for you. (Bernie Taupin, Elton John)
Don’t give it up
Don’t you give up on me. (Billy Ricketts)
Ooh, you make me live (John Deacon)
If you’ve got troubles, I’ve got ‘em too
There isn’t anything I wouldn’t do for you
We stick together and can see it through
‘Cause you’ve got a friend in me. (Randy Newman)
And there are more I remember
And more I could mention
And words I could write in a song
But I feel ‘em watching
And I see ‘em laughing
And I hear ‘em singing along. (Lyle Lovett)
Thank you for being a friend. (Andrew Gold)
In a word, or in an image
Something called me from my sleep
Love and blessings
Simple kindness
Ours to hold but not to keep. (Paul Simon)
* * *
News:
Last Wednesday, Ken Chapman led a discussion about radical hospitality. It was like a flash of bright light for me. We laughed a lot and I had several ah-ha moments. Join us for tonight’s Wednesday Zoom for another great conversation.
The Wednesday night Mid-week Gathering via zoom…How We Can Face the Future Without Fear, Together a talk Rabbi Lord Jonathan Sacks gave at the TED2017 Conference, the theme of which was The Future You.
Email zoom@firstpres.church for the link.
* * *
I’m so glad to see you coming back for in-person worship. When you’re ready, when you feel safe, please come. Remember to preregister by calling the church office from Monday 8:30 to noon on Friday.
* * *
Humor (Hard times really need godly laughter):
An annual competition is held by The New York Times to see who can create the best original lexophile. This year’s submissions (more coming):
Haunted French pancakes give me the crepes.
This girl today said she recognized me from the Vegetarians Club, but I’d swear I’ve never met herbivore.
I know a guy who’s addicted to drinking brake fluid, but he says he can stop any time.
A thief who stole a calendar got 12 months.
* * *
Good Word
Amos 5:24
let justice roll down like waters,
and righteousness like an ever-flowing stream.
LET US PRAY
God only knows what I’d be without you. (Brian Wilson)
Much, much love to you all.
Matt Matthews
Cell: 864.386.9138
Matt@FirstPres.Church
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Weekday Email to Members and Friends – 2021-03-16
This month’s Tuesday Night Virtual Dessert will be on the 16th and 30th of March. For March 16th TONIGHT, the theme will be “Wearing of the Green” in honor of St. Paddy’s Day on the 17th. Wear green from the waist up and let’s talk about your favorite food or dessert for celebrating that day. Do you have traditions? Corned Beef and Cabbage, Shepherd’s Pie, Guinness Beef Stew, Soda Bread, Baily’s Cheesecake or Green Beer? See you at 7 pm for conversation!!
Email zoom@firstpres.church for the link.
* * *
The Wednesday night Mid-week Gathering via zoom…How We Can Face the Future Without Fear, Together a talk Rabbi Lord Jonathan Sacks gave at the TED2017 Conference, the theme of which was The Future You.
Email zoom@firstpres.church for the link.
* * *
Lenten Daily Devotion
Tuesday, MARCH 16, 2021
LUKE 4:31-37
Exorcism is a characteristic aspect of Jesus’ public ministry — a reality outside the range of our own experience. But if we ponder the demonic as a spiritual condition, we can surely recognize realities that distort and disfigure human life in our own time and place from which we may need release. Racism, for example, is surely a spiritual deformity in our lives and in our society. In this exorcism story in Luke 4, Jesus represents a comprehensive threat to the whole realm of demons, providing release,
here and now, from forces that deform and deface our lives.
Practice: Prayerfully and slowly read this story from Luke, pondering
realities in your own life, and in the life of the world around you, that
distort and disfigure life, and thus can be described as demonic.
Journal: Note in your journal any insights that emerged during your
prayer time, and any demons you can identify in your own life that keep
you from the life that God intends for you.
* * *
| The Heart of Mission
PC(USA) One Great Hour of Sharing Below is the continuation of our Lenten practice from the PC(USA) One Great Hour of Sharing material. The full map and activities can be found at pcusa.org/oghsmap. You might want to have a small coin bank (Fish bank, First Pres bank) to collect small coins as you do these activities. If you cannot give coins, think about acts of service you can do for others. Friday, March 19, The coronavirus has made us all aware of how easily we can become sick. Say a prayer for each person in your home, for continued good health. Make a gift in honor of each. Praise the Lord for our new men’s shelter coordinator, Thomas, who has joined our team! We are grateful to have him on board and look forward to his leadership of our shelter team! Thank you God for the opportunity of having some of our longtime volunteers coming back in our building and interacting with our friends! Praise to Jesus for one of our close friends with an address who was in the hospital with COVID but is now home and continuing to recover! Friends of PEB has invited your prayers in their most recent newsletter: FOPEB and PEB Concerns And, we pray for the many personal and health concerns of the staff and teachers. We give thanks that birth and life continue even in midst of these many concerns. Let us keep all our mission partners in our prayers, those who are waiting to go back to their place of ministry and those who are able to work where they are. Listen for God’s call to you in their ministry. |
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| Attachments: |
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Weekday Email to Members and Friends – 2021-03-15
Monday, March 15th, 2021
A weekday e-mailer from
Matt Matthews
To Members and Friends of
First Presbyterian Church
Champaign, Illinois
Friends,
Off and on for weeks I’ve been asking you what these people (listed below) had in common. Many of you made guesses. The answer I was looking for? They all are alleged to have struggled with some form of mental illness.
I talk about that and them in the sermon I preached on March 7th. It’s pasted below. Also pasted below is the full blog by Neely Simpson that I reference in the sermon; it’s a beautifully written essay by a brilliant theologian about a difficult topic: mental illness. It’s a painful family story bravely told. You might “know” that family. After the sermon, is a link to the website of NAMI (National Alliance of Mental Illness). Explore it. Learn something new.
I’m glad to be part of a church family that cares broadly about our wide community and all the people in it. I’m glad we don’t need to shy away from tough topics. I’m glad to be on this journey towards wholeness and God’s shalom with you.
To celebrate, Rachel and I invite you to meet up in the parking lot of Jarling’s Custard Cup on Kirby Road between 6:00 and 6:45 on Tuesday. Roll down your window. We’ll give you a free coupon for a free dessert for everyone in your car. Order at the drive-in window, tell them you have a coupon, and then present the coupon at the pick-up window. Rachel and I will pick up the tab at the end of the night. If it’s a warm, kindly night, you’re welcome to park and stand around with us as we welcome others in. (At 7:00, bring your dessert to our Tuesday Night Zoom Dessert! That link is at the bottom of this mailer.)
See you Tuesday, rain or shine.
God is good.
Much love,
Matt (and Rachel)
864.386.9138
matt@firstpres.church
* * *
(Today’s Lenten devotional from the Presbyterian Outlook is at the very bottom of this message.)
* * *
Jesus and A World of Hurt/Thoughts on Mental Illness
Notes from a sermon delivered from the first pew…
First Presbyterian Church, Champaign, Illinois
Third Sunday of Lent, March 7, 2021
Matt Matthews
What do these folk have in common?
- Astronaut Buzz Aldrin,
- the musical genius Ludwig von Beethoven,
- the football quarterback Terry Bradshaw,
- Winston Churchill,
- the singer Judy Collins,
- Monica Seles the tennis pro
- Abraham Lincoln.
In Mark 1:21-28 we find Jesus teaching at a synagogue in Capernaum. The crowds are astounded at his teaching, comparing him to the Scribes, the scholarly elite who are experts in the teaching and interpretation of religious texts, particularly the Torah. These Scribes speak with authority. Jesus speaks with a kind of authority the Scribes don’t have.
As if the teaching weren’t big enough news, Mark relates in some detail this scene: A man with what the writer calls an “unclean spirit” interrupts Jesus’ teaching. “What have you to do with us, Jesus of Nazareth? Have you come to destroy us? I know who you are, the Holy One of God.” Jesus scolds the spirit, telling it to “Be silent, and come out of him!” The spirit convulses and comes out of the man. The crowds are even more amazed. Jesus’ words have real authority.
People like this man with an “unclean spirit” are often called “demoniacs” in the New Testament. (That phrase appears some 14 times in the Gospels). To be a demoniac is to have an unspecified illness. It is often associated with blindness, violence, Epilepsy, being tormented, or madness.
I want to take an imaginative leap here. I want to ask a touchy question. Do you think the writer is describing people who have mental illness? In the New Testament, there is no term for mental illness, but those words seem to me to capture part of what is going on in this scene. And in the New Testament—as in modern times—mental illness is, at the very least, an interruption. Polite people then and now often don’t want to talk about it. We avoid talking about mental illness and we avoid people who have mental illness.
Neely Simpson felt that way about her Aunt Nan. Nan suffered from bipolar disorder compounded by PTSD from an abusive marriage. Nan was known to go missing for months, remembering very little about her absence. Neely wrote these words after Nan’s suicide at the age of 62:
One night when I was an infant, Nan came to visit. My mother noticed that there was something off about her and woke late in the night hearing a voice in the kitchen. When she went to investigate, she found Nan sitting at the kitchen table talking to people who weren’t there. My mother marks that as the beginning. The beginning of a lifetime spent cycling in and out of mental hospitals; the beginning of repeated disappearances and missing person reports; the beginning of calls from the police saying that they’d found Nan nude behind a restaurant, walking barefoot in the rain down the middle of a busy Charlotte road, or locked in a gas station bathroom face down and unconscious, miles from home.
Once, when I was five years old, she disappeared for 3 months and was eventually found living out of her car in Charleston. She was often mistaken for a homeless person.
Neely admits that relating to Aunt Nan was difficult for her and for her family:
My mother called her every day. I tried to call her once a week, when she wasn’t missing or in a mental hospital, but I didn’t follow through all the time. The truth was she could be hard to talk to. The truth was she made me uncomfortable. The truth was that her life was sad and it frightened me. The truth was that deep down I was desperately afraid of becoming her. So, I relegated her to a place in the periphery of my life.
* * *
Mental illness frightens us and befuddles us. When we talk about it—as I’m daring to do now—we often run the risk of being patronizing. Our thoughtful talk sometimes isn’t thoughtful at all. And instead of bearing light, we generate smoke.
I don’t want to further marginalize those who struggle with mental illness or their families; at one time or another, that number probably includes us. No matter how much we say we care, and no matter how badly we may fumble expressing that care (like now?), people with mental illness often say that they feel misunderstood and unreachable.
BUT IN CAPERNAUM, a man with an unclean spirit called out to Jesus, “I know who you are.” And Jesus looked at him and knew who he was, too. You are a beloved child of God. You are the apple of God’s eye. You are more than your disease. Illness, come out of this man!
And it did. The illness came out of him. The man was made well.
When this man with an unclean spirit ranted and raved in Capernaum, it’s a safe bet people avoided him. But one day, Jesus saw him and didn’t turn the other way. Jesus didn’t pretend not to notice. Jesus didn’t revile this man. Jesus didn’t ignore this man. Jesus simply healed him.
The crowds are right: Jesus speaks with authority.
The people named at the top of this sermon have many things in common. One thing is this: they are alleged to have each struggled with mental illness. They suffered from what Churchill called visits from the “black dog”—depression. They suffered from social anxiety and bipolar disorder, bulimia, and alcoholism and other substance abuse disorders.
But—thank God—in every case, these men and women were blessed with a community that saw them as more than their illness. They were seen for their talents, humor, quirkiness, brilliance, strength, and their humanity. Somebody loved them even though their “demons” (New Testament language) or “brain chemistry” (modern language) sometimes made it difficult to love them. Somebody loved them anyway.
That’s the first miracle at Capernaum: Jesus stopped, noticed, and had compassion. The healing is another miracle, but the first miracle is that Jesus paused and loved in the first place.
And that’s the miracle that God has given us the power to perform. We can stop. We can pay a moment’s attention. We can be healers if not on the front line, like Jesus, then from the periphery, like my friend Neely.
I can’t cure mental illness. I can’t make the troubles go away, or anxieties evaporate. But I can do my small part, like Neely did with Aunt Nan—on the periphery. I can pay closer attention to the one who spoke with authority in Capernaum, the one who stopped, who didn’t run away, who paid attention and accorded basic human respect. Jesus took some time . . . to love. I can, by God’s grace and with God’s help, follow Jesus’ example.
Jesus still speaks in the synagogues, in the churches, on the streets. Could it be, that by God’s grace, people still hear Jesus’ words in our voice? Could it be, they feel Jesus’ love with our expressions of friendship?
In a world full of hurt, could it be that Jesus invites us in God’s name to touch the world’s hurt with healing in our hands, with power in our voices, with justice on our minds, and love in our hearts?
I think so.
* * *
(1) Mark 1:21-28 (NRSV) 21 They went to Capernaum; and when the sabbath came, he entered the synagogue and taught. 22 They were astounded at his teaching, for he taught them as one having authority, and not as the scribes. 23 Just then there was in their synagogue a man with an unclean spirit, 24 and he cried out, “What have you to do with us, Jesus of Nazareth? Have you come to destroy us? I know who you are, the Holy One of God.” 25 But Jesus rebuked him, saying, “Be silent, and come out of him!” 26 And the unclean spirit, convulsing him and crying with a loud voice, came out of him. 27 They were all amazed, and they kept on asking one another, “What is this? A new teaching—with authority! He[a] commands even the unclean spirits, and they obey him.” 28 At once his fame began to spread throughout the surrounding region of Galilee.
(2) NAMI (National Alliance on Mental Illness) has a great webpage designed to help family members of loved ones suffering from a mental illness. Check it out:
https://www.nami.org/Home
(3) Neely Stancel Simpson’s blog “Aunt Nan” from her blog Glimpses of God. This appears with Neely’s permission.
“Aunt Nan,” Sophia said from her car seat, as we drove through the moss draped tunnel of oak trees that lined the quiet Low Country road.
“No Sophia, we’re not going to see Aunt Nan today. We’re on vacation,” I said glancing at Sophia in the rear view mirror and thinking with a twinge of guilt that I really should call Nan. Then I pushed the thought out of my head. It was Sunday, the last day of our vacation, the first family vacation the three of us had ever had. I would deal with Nan tomorrow.
“Aunt Nan,” Sophia repeated in her small two-year-old voice, while she kicked her feet and watched the trees pass outside the window.
I turned in my seat to look at her and asked, “What about Aunt Nan?”
She looked at me matter-of-factly with her big blue eyes and said, “Aunt Nan’s home.”
“Did you have fun at Aunt Nan’s house?” I asked thinking it odd that she was remembering a day trip to my aunt’s condo in Charlotte two weeks ago. She had turned back to watching trees pass outside the window and did not answer. I turned around in my seat and thought no more of it.
Tuesday I received a phone call from my mother.
“Hello,” she said in a voice that sounded strained, “is Dave home from work yet?”
“No, not yet. Why?”
“Well, I just wanted to talk to both of you so I’ll call back in a little while,” she said trying to make her voice sound chipper, in a way that reminded me of the times she’d called to give me bad news about her cancer.
“Is everything okay?” I asked suspiciously. There was silence on the other end of the line.
“No,” she said finally, her voice breaking a little. “Nan is dead. She took her own life.”
It was a call I’d been expecting for years, only I’d always thought that instead of suicide Nan would be killed by her disease. I guess in a way that is what happened.
“When did she die?” I asked.
“The police think that it was Sunday.”
I’ve never had much use for that old adage, God never gives you more than you can handle, mostly because I’ve met people that had more than they could handle. My mother’s younger sister, Nancy Robinson was one of those people.
She was diagnosed at the age of thirty with bipolar disorder, compounded doctors said, by an abusive marriage that she’d had as a young woman and Post Traumatic Stress Disorder from the terrible things that had happened to her while she was out of her mind with mania and at the mercy of the world.
As children, Nan had been the pretty one – thin, blond, and popular, while my mother had waded more awkwardly through adolescence with corrective shoes and braces. Pictures show a fresh faced, well dressed girl, sometimes laughing, sometimes moody. Nan was charismatic, witty and talented — a gifted writer and artist who amused her fellow classmates with school-related satirical cartoons worthy of the New York Times. She was the editor of the school newspaper and yearbook. She had boyfriends and admirers and was even hit on once at the age of fourteen by a college classmate of my mother’s.
She attended college at the University of North Carolina in Greensboro, but didn’t finish there. During a year abroad, she fell in love with France and decided to stay, which was one of the happiest periods of her life. Eventually, she returned to her native South Carolina to finish a degree in Film and Media Arts at the University of South Carolina. After finishing her degree she became the Director of Media Arts for the South Carolina Arts Commission. It was in that capacity that she met her husband, a struggling artist and filmmaker.
She worked to support him while he made films. Eventually, the two of them started a film company in Columbia, South Carolina called Kingfisher Films. Among her body of work are the documentaries Growing Up With Rockets, and Dizzy Gillespie – A Night in Tunisia. Together they traveled all over the country for their work and met famous people. She wore beautiful, expensive clothes. They even had an apartment in New York. Throughout it all, my mother reports that there was abuse and bouts of depression. Her marriage finally ended after five years and Kingfisher Films fizzled into nonexistence.
One night when I was an infant, Nan came to visit. My mother noticed that there was something off about her and woke late in the night hearing a voice in the kitchen. When she went to investigate she found Nan sitting at the kitchen table talking to people who weren’t there. My mother marks that as the beginning. The beginning of a lifetime spent cycling in and out of mental hospitals; the beginning of repeated disappearances and missing person reports; the beginning of calls from the police saying that they’d found Nan nude behind a restaurant, walking barefoot in the rain down the middle of a busy Charlotte road, or locked in a gas station bathroom face down and unconscious, miles from home. Once, when I was five years old, she disappeared for 3 months and was eventually found living out of her car in Charleston. She was often mistaken for a homeless person. Hers is the face I see when someone points maliciously at the homeless and says, “Get a job!”
She had a job . . . for a while. She was brilliant, talented, and funny. After her divorce she moved toWashington D.C. where she had several different editing jobs for journals and periodicals. But job terminations started and then became more frequent. She was always looking for a new job. Each manic episode debilitated her a little more, leaving her mind a little less able to complete basic tasks. She became slower. She left things undone. When she was manic, she scared people. She was odd and frightening. She sometimes made violent threats. What few friends she made, she always scared away. There was more than one occasion when my father slept downstairs on the couch near the door, just in case her fractured mind could piece itself together enough to follow through on her threats. That was when she was manic. When she was herself, she was fun, and witty, and smart. It was a horrific, real life case of Jeckyll and Hyde.
Finally, when she could no longer hold a job, she moved home to South Carolina, to live with my grandmother. Nan was always very close to my grandmother, who worried about her endlessly. Together with my mother, she spent a lifetime, tirelessly trying to find some solution, some cure, some help.
Living in the small South Carolina town where she’d been raised, Nan felt isolated. It was not a place where mental illness was discussed openly. It was not a place where mental illness was understood. People felt uncomfortable around her and avoided her. She began to become bitter and that came across sometimes in conversation. She could be hard to talk to. She detested the awkward pretending that people always did around her, as if there was an elephant in the room and it was her. Once I asked her to tell me about the mental hospitals that she’d been in. She seemed relieved, almost happy that I’d asked, as if encouraged that I had quit pretending. I remember wishing that I’d asked her sooner.
Ever the cruel master, the mania was not content to strip her of friends, dignity, and safety. It took everything that she had. She was impoverished. When she was manic, she bought things – cars, jewelry, and once she even made an offer on a beach house, which was accepted. She’d had to declare bankruptcy. She had numerous debts, among them were hospital and doctor’s bills. She had nothing. She was the poor relative. When no one could figure out any other way to relate to her, they brought her food, and bought her clothes, me included. It was humiliating for her.
My grandmother helped Nan to buy a condo in Charlotte, which was where she’d lived for the past eight years. In those eight years the mania got worse. She was in and out of mental hospitals, sometimes as many as three times a year. The hospitals always seemed glad to be rid of her. Her problems were more than they were equipped to handle and they were always short of beds. They often released her before the mania had ended and so she was usually picked up by the police and put back within the month. She saw numerous psychiatrists provided by the state, some who cared more than others, but the state budget for mental health was always being cut and so were the jobs of the people who worked with Nan. Doctors and medication changed frequently.
If ever you wanted to know anything about mental health or the mental health care system, my mother would be the one to ask. Caring for Nan had been her full time job. She’d looked into every kind of private placement scenario, but they were all totally unaffordable. She looked into guardianship, but was advised against it as she would be held legally responsible for Nan’s actions. The very idea of guardianship put a strain on their relationship. Nan clung desperately to her independence, which was her last shred of dignity. In the end my mother decided that it was better for Nan to have a sister who loved her and not a jailer. Still, my mother spent much of the last eleven years researching the system, and then working ceaselessly to find help for Nan. Sometimes she was successful. About five years ago, she was able to get Nan a wonderful case worker who was a saint and who was able to advocate for her within the system, but it seems that budgets must always be cut, which means jobs have to be cut and that social worker lost her job. It seemed like a miracle when Nan was assigned another case worker who was also wonderful. We lost that case worker to yet another round of budget cuts about a year ago.
When I was a teenager, Nan very hesitantly came out of the closet with her immediate family — fearing, I think, that she would be rejected by the only family that she had. We had suspected for some time. It makes me sad to hear people talk about homosexuality as if it were some sinful frivolity that could be fixed with a little godly discipline. As if it were like choosing a flavor of ice cream and my aunt had chosen the wrong moral flavor, when she should have been sensible and chosen chocolate like everyone else. It wasn’t a choice for her. She was a woman who felt isolated and rejected in everyway. Being gay was one more rejection.
She felt rejected by the church, but she missed it at the same time. She asked me once, “Why do you like the church so much?” She hadn’t experienced it like I had. For me it had been a place of acceptance, a place where I was taught to accept. Every gay and lesbian friend that I have, I know through the church. But I had my struggles with the church too and my own bad experiences. So I said, “Well because it’s kind of like family, you know? You love them, but they’re all kind of crazy and they drive you a little nuts. In the end they’ve been a means of Grace and you bear a slight resemblance to them.” She laughed and nodded. She’d tried again and again to find a church, but she couldn’t drive, and half the time she wasn’t in her right mind. So it was hard. Sometimes she just didn’t feel welcome. When I was in college, Nan’s ex-husband contacted her. He was remarrying a Catholic woman and needed an annulment. So just like that, the church said that five years of abuse never happened. Rejection.
Someone asked me once, “Doesn’t your aunt take her medication?” When she wasn’t manic she took it faithfully, desperately clinging to the hope that she wouldn’t have another manic episode. She feared them. Terrible things happened to her when she was manic, humiliating things, violent things. She would slowly and eventually surface to sanity after months of mania with only shadowy memories of what had happened. She would return to sanity to find her life in shambles: Her condo would be destroyed by her own hands, the electricity and water turned off because she hadn’t paid the bills, wallet missing, money gone, and new friends scared off.
Psychiatrists told my mother to stop cleaning the apartment and paying the bills. They said that in order to live with her illness, Nan needed to see what happened while she was manic. In order to live independently, Nan needed to learn how to manage it all by herself.
Once during one of her disappearances she called my mother and alluded to the death of her dog. It was a much beloved dog, her one companion. Dave and I went to her condo to try to find the dog, but it was gone and never reappeared. She came home months later to find that her beloved pet was gone. Each manic episode was like that. She would spend months trying to put her life back together only to be betrayed by her own mind and begin the process all over again.
One place Nan felt accepted was The Lesbian and Gay Community Center in Charlotte, where she did a lot of volunteer work. She was treated with dignity there and even had a few casual friends. It was not in the church that she encountered God’s Grace, but at The Lesbian and Gay Community Center. That’s got to be biblical, right? Grace popping up where authority says that it shouldn’t be. It makes me think of that woman with the long hair and the alabaster jar who anoints Jesus’ feet with her tears and then dries them with her hair. All those good church people were appalled that Jesus would allow such a thing to happen; that Jesus would allow such a woman to touch him. Jesus just says, “Listen here boys, this woman’s got more faith and more love than all of you combined.”
My Aunt Nan spent her life trying to live with a cruel and debilitating illness. Year after year she tried to put her life back together only to be knocked down again. She had been rejected by everyone there was to be rejected by, including her own family who was a little afraid of her and who, like everyone else, wasn’t entirely sure how to relate to her.
My mother called her every day. I tried to call her once a week, when she wasn’t missing or in a mental hospital, but I didn’t follow through all the time. The truth was she could be hard to talk to. The truth was she made me uncomfortable. The truth was that her life was sad and it frightened me. The truth was that deep down I was desperately afraid of becoming her. So, I relegated her to a place in the periphery of my life. When I did talk to her we talked about writing because, as I have mentioned, she was a very talented writer. She had been working on two screenplays for the past two years and I am hoping to find them among her things because they are probably brilliant.
She liked my aspiration to be a writer and encouraged me to keep at it. Once for Christmas she gave me a worn old book that had been hers. It is the best book on writing that I have ever read, and it inspired me to begin work on a book that I’d always wanted to write. It’s called, If You Want to Write: A book about Art, Independence, and Spirit by Brenda Ueland. It seems appropriate now that I would bury Nan with words, cover her with the shroud of her own story, and lay her to rest.
On that Sunday when Dave, Sophia, and I were driving along a moss draped Low Country road, Nan left a note and overdosed on drugs. She knew her mania was getting worse as she aged. She was losing memory, hearing, and ability.
My mother talked to her Saturday night because my mother talked to her every night.
“She seemed fine. She’d had a good day. There was something different about her, she seemed almost happy,” my mother reflected. The next evening when my mom called, Nan did not answer.
During a conversation with a pastor friend about that last phone call, our friend said, “She had a plan and she was at peace with that plan.”
Reflecting on her death, I am not uncomfortable with her suicide. I understand it. My mother and I talked about what we should tell people. We decided that we should tell them the truth because her death bears witness to how much she suffered — for that reason and also because she was so tired of everyone pretending.
Suicide is a touchy thing with Christians. Some Christian groups think that suicide gets you automatic entry to Hell. No part of me believes that. What small amount of Hell I believe in, exists mostly on earth. I am a parent and God is a parent, and as a parent I know that if my child had suffered the way that Nan suffered, the word rejoice is not adequate to describe what I would do and how I would feel when that suffering had ended. I would wrap my child in my arms, will away all the pain, and be so glad that she had come home. And that’s what God did on that Sunday night. On that Sunday night, Nan was no longer rejected, she was no longer humiliated, she was no longer alone, and mania could no longer touch her. She became whole. She went home. On that night when she took her life, God was there.
That week, my mother went to her condo just to be there. She found that Nan had organized things and left them where they could be found. She found Nan’s Bible. Psalm 70 was marked:
God, hurry and save me. Lord, come quickly and help me. Let those who are trying to kill me be put to shame. Let them not be honored. Let all those who want to destroy me be turned back in shame. Some people make fun of me. Let them be turned back when their plans fail. But let all those who look to you be joyful and glad because of what you have done. Let those who love you because you save them always say, “May God be honored!” But I am poor and needy. God, come quickly to me. You are the One who helps me and saves me. Lord please don’t wait any longer.
This past Sunday marks a week since she died, and it was one of those strange “thin” days as my Scots ancestors might say, referring to the thin veil that separates the living and the dead. Nan was somehow in the air and the universe seemed to be trying to tell us that she was home. In church we sang, Great is Thy Faithfulness and Precious Lord, Take My Hand. The sermon seemed written just for us.
My mother took Sophia on a walk and they discovered a juniper bush with a dried up brown limb. Sophia pointed at the branch indicating in toddler sign language that she wanted to know why it was brown.
“It’s dead,” my mother said, struggling with the words and wishing she could think of a better word to use with a two-year-old.
Sophia looked up at my mother, nodded and said, “God.”
“Yes,” my mother said, “God.”
Then turning from the bush she saw a feather on the ground. Nan liked to collect feathers and upon occasion would give them to my mother. They walked on a little farther to examine a tree. While Sophia busied herself inspecting ants and leaves, my mother looked down and found another feather. She picked it up and placed it in a hole in the tree for safe keeping, planning to take it with her when they left. She turned to look at something that Sophia wanted to show her and when she turned back for the feather, it was gone.
* * *
Lenten Daily Devotion
Monday, MARCH 15, 2021
LUKE 4:16-30
This scene represents the inauguration of Jesus’ public ministry in Luke. The words he reads from the Isaiah scroll in his hometown synagogue constitute the programmatic message his ministry will embody — bringing good news to the poor, release to the captives, the recovery of sight to the blind and letting the oppressed go free. As his ministry unfolds, it will fulfill each of these bold works of liberation.
Practice: You are invited to pray this Scripture with special attention
to the words of Isaiah in verses 18-19. What images arrest your
attention or challenge you, and why?
Journal: Note in your journal your sense of movement toward God
and away from God as you engaged in prayerful reflection on this story.
* * *
This month’s Tuesday Night Virtual Dessert will be on the 16th and 30th of March. For March 16th, the theme will be “Wearing of the Green” in honor of St. Paddy’s Day on the 17th. Wear green from the waist up and let’s talk about your favorite food or dessert for celebrating that day. Do you have traditions? Corned Beef and Cabbage, Shepherd’s Pie, Guinness Beef Stew, Soda Bread, Baily’s Cheesecake or Green Beer? See you at 7pm on the 16th for conversation!!
Email zoom@firstpres.church for the link.
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Weekday Email to Members and Friends – 2021-03-12
Friday, March 12th, 2021
A weekday e-mailer from
Matt Matthews
To Members and Friends of
First Presbyterian Church
Champaign, Illinois
Friends,
Hear ye, hear ye: Rachel and I invite you to meet up in the parking lot of Jarling’s Custard Cup on Kirby Road between 6:00 and 6:45 on this coming Tuesday, March 16th. Roll down your window. We’ll give you a free coupon for a free dessert for everyone in your car. Order at the drive-in window, tell them you have a coupon, and then present the coupon at the pick-up window. Rachel and I will pick up the tab at the end of the night.
If it’s a warm, kindly night, you’re welcome to park and stand around with us as we welcome others in. At 7:00 that same night, bring your dessert to our Tuesday Night Zoom Dessert! That link will appear in mailers next week. See you Tuesday, rain or shine.
* * *
This Sunday we host a great guest preacher: Rev. Dr. Alonzo Johnson is the PCUSA director of the Self Development of People. He’ll be tackling what many of us call one of our favorite passages from the New Testament, Matthew 25. See you Sunday, rain or shine.
* * *
Much, much love to you all.
Matt Matthews
Cell: 864.386.9138
Matt@FirstPres.Church
* * *
CYF will be hosting a Spirituality Center in the church chapel for the season of Lent. Open House hours will be Sundays 11am-2:30pm. Come for some quiet reflection time by walking the labyrinth, contemplating scripture, and creating at your own pace. One household will be admitted at a time. Check in and temperature recordings will be necessary as well as face masks while in the building and chapel. Sanitizing wipes will be at each station for further protection between visitors. We hope you will find it a blessing for this season of inward contemplation and examination.
Sunday school continues. Follow this link for a virtual version of the Lenten Spirituality Center Lenten Spirituality Center
* * *
Dig this: Matthew 25:35-46
35 for I was hungry and you gave me food, I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink, I was a stranger and you welcomed me, 36 I was naked and you gave me clothing, I was sick and you took care of me, I was in prison and you visited me.’ 37 Then the righteous will answer him, ‘Lord, when was it that we saw you hungry and gave you food, or thirsty and gave you something to drink? 38 And when was it that we saw you a stranger and welcomed you, or naked and gave you clothing? 39 And when was it that we saw you sick or in prison and visited you?’ 40 And the king will answer them, ‘Truly I tell you, just as you did it to one of the least of these who are members of my family,[a] you did it to me.’ 41 Then he will say to those at his left hand, ‘You that are accursed, depart from me into the eternal fire prepared for the devil and his angels; 42 for I was hungry and you gave me no food, I was thirsty and you gave me nothing to drink, 43 I was a stranger and you did not welcome me, naked and you did not give me clothing, sick and in prison and you did not visit me.’ 44 Then they also will answer, ‘Lord, when was it that we saw you hungry or thirsty or a stranger or naked or sick or in prison, and did not take care of you?’ 45 Then he will answer them, ‘Truly I tell you, just as you did not do it to one of the least of these, you did not do it to me.’ 46 And these will go away into eternal punishment, but the righteous into eternal life.”
* * *
A song for Friday
https://www.youtube.com/watch?
* * *
Here’s the Lenten Devotional from Presbyterian Outlook. May it be a blessing to/for you and those you love.
Friday, MARCH 12, 2021
PHILIPPIANS 2:5-11
This passage at the heart of Philippians has been described as Paul’s “master story” of God and the world. As such, note how the text presents God’s movement toward us — a movement of decidedly “downward mobility” in which God’s own self is emptied in Christ in order to transform, redeem and liberate the world. This divine movement of love toward the world, in the world, with the world, and for the world is the very power of God.
Practice: Prayerfully read this text several times, noting the images that
shine for you.
Journal: Write in you journal of movement toward God or away from
God that you discern.
Saturday, MARCH 13, 2021
MARK 1:4-11
The story of Jesus’ baptism in the wilderness is an occasion on which to remember our own baptisms — even if we were infants at the time and were scarcely aware of what was happening. Mark tells us that when Jesus came up out of the water, the heavens were “ripped apart” — they did not simply “open,” because something that opens can close. The heavens were ripped apart, which is to say that reality was irreparably altered as a fissure in the heavens appeared — a permanent elimination of the
boundary between heaven and earth. God’s Spirit, in other words, is loose in the world and in our lives.
Practice: Pray this Scripture with special attention to the powerful
images in this text, and as you ponder Jesus’ baptism, also remember
your own. Imagine God’s voice identifying and claiming you as a beloved
child of God and the vision of the heavens ripped apart. Reflect on the
significance of these revelatory events for Jesus’ life, your own life and
the life of the world.
Journal: Note in your journal what emerges in your prayerful reflection
on Jesus’ baptism and your own.
Week 4
MARCH 14-20, 2021
Freedom for the captives by Roger Gench
HYMN OF THE WEEK: “There’s a Wideness in God’s Mercy”
PRAYER FOCUS: Thanksgiving — What blessings have I received
from God? How can I put into words what Jesus has done for me
and for my loved ones?
ACTION: Give thanks to someone for their work each day. Write
an email to a colleague. Send a thank you letter to a public servant
or frontline worker in your community. Express gratitude to those
you encounter in customer service. Tell your pastor or a church
volunteer what you appreciate about their service.
Sunday, MARCH 14, 2021
LUKE 4:1-13
On the heels of his baptism, Jesus faces diabolic temptation in the wilderness that tests his mettle for the ministry before him. None of the temptations the devil sets before him have ignoble ends in view —
daily bread, the good of nations and victory over death all are worthy goals. But each temptation entails selfish manipulation rather than service to the glory of God. Jesus models service to others, refusing to give in to the diabolic temptation to serve himself.
Practice: Pray this Scripture slowly and imagine that you are present in this scene, observing the devil’s tempting of Jesus. Consider his responses to them, and how you might frame your own.
Journal: Record in your journal any questions, thoughts or emotions that
emerge as you pray with this Scripture, noting your sense of whether they move you toward God or away from God.
* * *
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Weekday Email to Members and Friends – 2021-03-11
Thursday, March 11th, 2021
A weekday e-mailer from
Matt Matthews
To Members and Friends of
First Presbyterian Church
Champaign, Illinois
Friends,
Here’s the Lenten Devotional from Presbyterian Outlook.
Thursday, MARCH 11, 2021
ISAIAH 42:1-9
The figure in this “Servant Song” from Isaiah 42 is generally thought to represent the people of Israel who are called by God to bring forth justice among the nations. Note especially the powerful image of how the servant goes about the work of justice: “a bruised reed he will not break, and a dimly burning wick he will not quench.”
Practice: Prayerfully read these verses two or three times, noting the
images that shimmer for you and the reflection they evoke.
Journal: Write in your journal of movements toward God or away from
God that emerge into view.
* * *
News:
Today, today… Let’s join together today with our ESL family at 10 a.m. for friendly conversation. Friends learning English as a second language will get a chance to practice conversation; those of us who grew up speaking English will get a chance to practice listening. We’ll grow together. It’ll be fun. One of our wonderful students from Iran will be giving a presentation about the Persian New Year, Nowruz, which begins on March 21st. How cool is that? Join us! Here’s the link:
Email esl@firstpres.church for the link.
* * *
I’m so glad to see you coming back for in-person worship. When you’re ready, when you feel safe, please come. Remember to preregister by calling the church office from Monday 8:30 to noon on Friday. If you don’t preregister, can you still come? If you show up on Sunday morning without signing up, you’ll be seated only if space is available. Remember, also, we are still taking every precaution to keep you safe, and no matter how hard we try, we make no guarantees you won’t be exposed to Covid.
* * *
CRISIS IN CUBA. Leaders of the Presbyterian Reformed Church of Cuba ask our help as they face what Cuban Pastor Allison Infante Zamra called “the most serious economic crisis in our modern history.” The economic emergency fueled by the pandemic, loss of tourism, new US policy pressures, and rising prices threatens the essential work of the Cuban Presbyterian church. Food, electricity, gasoline and medicines are scarce and costs surge beyond what most can afford. US partners are hoping to fund a $75,000 ASAP. Our Cuba Committee is seeking donations. Please memo “Synod”. No gift is too small.
* * *
Humor (Hard times really need godly laughter):
An annual competition is held by The New York Times to see who can create the best original lexophile. This year’s submissions (more coming):
I changed my iPod’s name to Titanic. It’s syncing now.
England has no kidney bank, but it does have a Liverpool.
* * *
Good Word
Amos 5:21-24
21 I hate, I despise your festivals,
and I take no delight in your solemn assemblies.
22 Even though you offer me your burnt offerings and grain offerings,
I will not accept them;
and the offerings of well-being of your fatted animals
I will not look upon.
23 Take away from me the noise of your songs;
I will not listen to the melody of your harps.
24 But let justice roll down like waters,
and righteousness like an ever-flowing stream.
Let us pray
Thanks be to You, O God,
who gathers,
protects,
and cares
for the church through Word and Spirit.
O God, you seek to bring about justice and true peace among people, to care in a special way for the destitute, the poor, and the wronged. You call the church to stand by people in any form of suffering and need, and witness against and strive against any form of injustice,
so that justice
may
roll down
like
w
a
t
e
r
s,
and righteousness
like
an
ever-flowing stream.
Alleluia!
* * *
Much, much love to you all.
Matt Matthews
Cell: 864.386.9138
Matt@FirstPres.Church
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