Ongoing Response to COVID-19
Weekday Email to Members and Friends – 2020-04-23
Thursday April 23rd 2020
A Weekday Emailer from
Matt Matthews
To Members and Friends of
First Presbyterian Church
Champaign, Illinois
Dear Friends,
Tears.
For two days, I’ve wept non-stop.
And sneezed.
It’s allergies.
But with every sneeze, I think Coronavirus. I reach for my pulse. I look at our tulips, sneeze, think of our first responders. I ponder the peonies; ours our budding, marble-sized, tight-fisted, revealing at the edges the possibility of secret, exotic colors. The tender leaves resemble red-veined swiss chard. My eyes water taking them in. I sneeze and think of our nurses and doctors cloistered like monastics in our walled-off hospitals.
And real tears.
I shed real tears with gratitude for Roy Van Buskirk who died Tuesday afternoon, and with sorrow that I couldn’t spend the next decade getting to know him better. At 89, I’m not sure he would have wanted another decade of getting to know me better, but I did. I really did. My hot, selfish tears watered my shirt.
Also on Tuesday, I got word that Carl Thomas died. You don’t know him. He was on the committee that called me to my third parish. His mother-in-law was a member of my second parish. She drove a car the size of an aircraft carrier and could barely see over the steering wheel. One arm was bigger than the other. Carl hailed from my home town. We were Hampton High Crabbers together—actually a few decades apart. I wept tears of shock when I got the text; then, on the phone with his bride, I shed tears because she shed tears. As the shock faded, I wasn’t really sure what that next round of tears meant. And now, tears of gladness.
I sneeze at the blue skies and sunshine, which I have immensely enjoyed. I watch the protestors on TV who insist on shucking our community safety measures of self-distancing in place of their “constitutional rights”, and I sneeze, and weep, and turn off the TV with a snap and step outside into the sun, wave to my chemist neighbor, breathe in the fresh air.
If you, too, are sneezing, bless you. And bless you, anyway, during this Easter Season, this allergy season, this season of pandemic, this springtime of our lives.
News:
Evening Dessert. Join us for a Zoom gathering on Wednesday April 29th. We’ll meet online to catch up, chat, visit, show off our flower gardens. Bring some dessert “to share.” We’ll practice having an online conversation with each other. Think of it as the Sunday morning coffee break after morning worship. Technology makes these gatherings over distance possible—but it might not be easy. We’ll have to figure out how to talk without talking over one another. We’ll get the hang of it. So, help us experiment. Nothing beats face to face gatherings, but in the absence of that we’re trying this. “See” you there. If you do not have the link, email info@firstpres.church.
Roy Van Buskirk died on Tuesday afternoon. Prayers for his family, and thanks be to God for this life well-lived. One of the last things Roy did was make a gift to his church.
Prayers: Megan Ludwinski and fiancee Nathan were in a terrible car crash. A hit and run driver sped through a 4-way stop at a high rate of speed, hit their car sending it spinning, and then fled the scene on foot. The children were not in the car. They are recovering, but in much pain. Megan is not yet able to walk. Thanks for lifting this family up.
$$$$$. Thank you for keeping your pledges up to date. If you know of anyone experiencing food insecurity, please let me know. I have grocery gifts cards. Thank you. Thanks be to God.
Graveyard Walks: Thanks for telling me your stories about the Mount Hope/Roselawn cemeteries. I walk there regularly. Please keep the stories coming.
From our would-be Theologian-in-Residence: Jeff Kellam’s Easter post:
https://jeffkellam.wordpress.
Humor: Nine months from now we’ll have a small baby boom. In 2033, we’ll have the Quaranteens.
Pictures of tulips:
https://www.dutchtuliptours.
https://www.easyvoyage.co.uk/
Good Word:
Psalm 46:8 (Eugene Peterson’s The Message)
Attention, all! See the marvels of God!
He plants flowers and trees all over the earth,
Bans war from pole to pole,
breaks all the weapons across his knee.
“Step out of the traffic! Take a long,
loving look at me, your High God,
above politics, above everything.”
Let us pray:
This is my father’s world
And to my listening ears
All nature sings, and round me rings
The music of the spheres
This is my father’s world
The birds their carols raise
The morning light, the lily white
Declare their maker’s praise
This is my father’s world
I rest me in the thought
Of rocks and trees, of skies and seas
His hand the wonders wrought
This is my father’s world
Oh, let me never forget
That though the wrong seems oft so strong
God is the ruler yet
This is my father’s world
Why should my heart be sad?
The Lord is king, let the heavens ring
God reigns, let the earth be glad
This is my father’s world
He shines in all that’s fair
In the rustling grass, I hear him pass
He speaks to me everywhere
Much love to you all.
PEACE,
Matt Matthews
Cell: 864.386.9138
Matt@FirstPres.Church
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Weekday Email to Members and Friends – 2020-04-22
Wednesday April 22nd 2020
A Weekday Emailer from
Matt Matthews
To Members and Friends of
First Presbyterian Church
Champaign, Illinois
Happy Earth Day,
Here’s a traditional African Canticle:
All you big things, bless the Lord.
Mount Kilimanjaro and Lake Victoria,
The Rift Valley and the Serengeti Plain,
Fat baobabs and shady mango trees,
All eucalyptus and tamarind trees,
Bless the Lord.
Praise and extol Him for ever and ever.
All you tiny things, bless the Lord.
Busy black ants and hopping fleas,
Wriggling tadpoles and mosquito larvae,
Flying locusts and water drops,
Pollen dust and tsetse flies,
Millet seeds and dried dagaa,
Bless the Lord.
Praise and extol Him for ever and ever.
News:
Your Money. Thank you for keeping your pledges up to date. None of your church’s expenses have stopped, though income has slowed. We’ve received about a dozen gifts (that I know about) to help our Covid-19 relief efforts. Thank you for this above-and-beyond generosity. If you know of anyone experiencing food insecurity, please let me know. I have grocery gifts cards. Thank you. Thanks be to God.
Graveyard Walks: Thanks for telling me your stories about the Mount Hope/Roselawn cemeteries. I walk there regularly. Please keep the stories coming.
The Outreach Committee is beginning a relationship with international students, faculty, and professionals via a campus group called International Friendships Inc. Their spring newsletter is below. If you skim through it, you’ll find a picture of a perfect new born that will make you smile.
https://mailchi.mp/
Humor: Where do you take someone injured in a peek-a-boo accident? To the ICU.
Good Word:
Genesis 1:29-31
Then God said, “I’ve given you
every sort of seed-bearing plant on Earth
And every kind of fruit-bearing tree,
given them to you for food.
To all animals and all birds,
everything that moves and breathes,
I give whatever grows out of the ground for food.”
And there it was.
God looked over everything he had made;
it was so good, so very good!
Let us pray:
Holy God,
forgive us for taking the bounty and wonder
of your creation for granted.
We give you thanks for the beauty
of earth and sky and sea;
for mountains, plains, and rivers;
for the songs of birds and the loveliness of flowers.
Help us that we may safeguard
these holy gifts for our posterity.
Forgive us when we have not cared
as we ought for the bounty of life
surrounding us.
We ask it the name of the one
who is Lord of Creation,
Jesus the Christ, AMEN
Much love to you all.
PEACE,
Matt Matthews
Cell: 864.386.9138
Matt@FirstPres.Church
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Weekday Email to Members and Friends – 2020-04-21
Tuesday April 21st 2020
A Weekday Emailer from
Matt Matthews
To Members and Friends of
First Presbyterian Church
Champaign, Illinois
Dear Friends,
John Williams is the chaplain at Austin College in Sherman, Texas. Rachel graduated there, as did her brother, sister, mother, aunt, and father. John and Rachel were classmates.
John came to First Pres last fall to preach and give some talks. He brought students with him. They were a lot of fun and stirred good vibes, not to mention serving up lots of food for thought. John is a great preacher, a pithy singer-songwriter (pretty standard for Texans of his ilk), and a celebrated college chaplain—not to mention a good writer, as evidenced below.
John writes a regular letter TO WHOM IT MAY CONCERN for his college kids and onlookers (parents, alum, faculty, and the wider AC community). The following is his most recent contribution. I love reading these because John is funny, quotes great music, and is pastorally thoughtful. You’ll have to “translate” this a bit, because it was written for his college kids, part of “RooNation.” (Austin College’s mascot is a kangaroo; kangaroos are not native to Texas, or so I’m told.)
John’s essay about the Coronavirus and the havoc it’s wreaking within the student body is longer than all of my daily posts, but I include his comments at the bottom of this letter in hopes that some of you will read it.
ENJOY.
News:
The Heart of Missions Newsletter is here: Stay current about what’s going on. Click here: https://www.firstpres.
I found help: Nicole Miller informs me that Rev. John S. Frame is no longer buried in Mount Hope Cemetery. His remains were dug up and shipped to Troy, New York, where his wife’s family was from.
John Selby Frame, born in the manse of Presbyterian Church of South Salem, New York, graduated Princeton Seminary, assuming his first of only two pastorates in 1863 in Morris, IL. The layering of cataracts prevented his father, Rev. Rueben Frame, from continuing his ministry at First Pres in Morris, so, son John ably took over. In under seven years he doubled the size of the congregation. It was from Morris from whence the young Rev. Frame was “translated” to First Pres Champaign where he served from April 1870 to his untimely death of pneumonia, a pastorate of only 4-years and four-months. He died in Champaign on 13 Oct 1874 at age 35.
I’m finding lots of historic names on headstones on my daily walk in the cemetery. If there’s anybody you want me to stop and say hello to, just let me know.
Humor:
Even on their couch, they’re not comfortable “in church” unless sitting on the back row… A photograph from Betty Hollister:
https://scontent-ort2-1.xx.
From Tanya Deckert: With March and April cancelled, the next holiday is Cinco De Mayo—sponsored by Corona.
Good Word:
Psalm 24:1-2
The earth is the Lord’s, and everything in it,
the world, and all who live in it;
for he founded it on the seas
and established it on the waters.
Let us pray:
We search the skies for answers and are comforted by the majesty of a thousand lights flung across the sky. We walk through the valleys of our own discontent and hear the rushing waters of life giving hope to all of creation. The heavens proclaim Your righteousness. The hills and valleys boast of Your handiwork. We praise you, O God. The light of Your dawn fills our heart with hope. The joy of Your sunsets reminds us that even in the darkness You are to be exalted. We sing our songs of praise to You, O God, for You are our Alpha and Omega.
(Rev. Louie V. Andrews, III)
Much love to you all.
PEACE,
Matt Matthews
Cell: 864.386.9138
Matt@FirstPres.Church
John William’s Essay, “To Whom It May Concern/April 2020”
(Used with permission)
TO WHOM IT MAY CONCERN…
Day 32 of the RooMote Situation
200 days before the Presidential election
In a room where the doors are locked
Thinking I probably shouldn’t have any more coffee
April 17, 2020 (the 32nd anniversary of the day I was ordained as a Presbyterian minister)
It’s the weight of the world
But it’s nothing at all
Light as a prayer, and then I feel myself fall
You got to give me a minute
Because I’m way down in it
And I can’t breathe so I can’t speak
I want to be strong and steady, always ready
Now, I feel so small, I feel so weak
Anxiety
How do you always get the best of me?
–Jason Isbell
Back to back,
Belly to belly—
It’s a Zombie Jamboree
–Rockapella
Yeah, yeah, yeah
Peace to the world
–Los Lobos
In my new RooMote Pandemic routine, I tend to turn on the news every morning as soon as I wake up.
I try to stay aware of my surroundings and pay attention to things that might directly or indirectly affect me, my family, or Austin College. I definitely learn useful things by reading, watching, or listening to the news.
But there’s a cost.
Lately, and understandably, to listen to the news is to be almost constantly reminded of the coronavirus;
· the grief of thousands of families who have lost loved ones to COVID-19;
· the fear that we all have as we try hard not to get sick or make others sick;
· the disorientation of facing unprecedented circumstances and behaving in new ways as we try to flatten the curve by social distancing; and
· the uncertainty about how long all this will last and about what our lives will look like when we get beyond this season.
I don’t really blame the news media for focusing on those things.
The grief, fear, disorientation, and uncertainty that I hear or read about are relevant and real.
It’s just where we are right now.
Grief.
Fear.
Disorientation.
Uncertainty.
++++++++++++
We’ve got all of that in #ROONation.
There’s grief for the parts of this Spring Semester that we’ve lost. Even though there’s this whole epic, true, heroic story about the way AC students, faculty, and staff have figured out how to continue move forward and make progress in this time of social distancing, we’ve lost a lot. We had dreams and plans and expectations that simply will not come to pass. And we’re grieving those things. As we should.
Some of us are facing the much more profound grief that comes with the realization that the current financial situation will mean that some students will not be able to continue their studies at AC. We’re working hard to minimize those situations, but it’s unlikely that they can all be avoided.
And that’s excruciating.
There are also all sorts of things in this moment that many of us are legitimately afraid of.
What if I get sick?
What if my parents or grandparents get sick?
What if I make my parents or grandparents sick?
What if there’s not enough money?
Will I learn what I need to learn?
There’s real and legitimate fear in our individual lives and in our life together.
And we’re all disoriented as we try to figure out how to function in this new context. Of course that’s true in remote classes. Shifting to online learning was, and still is, disorienting. It’s not like flipping a light switch and all of a sudden everything is cool.
But it’s also disorienting to apply for grad school in this context.
· Or to look for a job;
· Or make plans to move to a new city;
· Or figure out where you can live in Sherman next year.
It’s disorienting to go back to living with your parents and siblings after you have been in Sherman;
· Or try to maintain friendships;
· Or participate remotely in the fulfilling extra-curricular activities that we find energizing.
It feels like lots of what was best about our life together here has been taken away.
Those things might come back.
We hope they’re not gone forever.
But we don’t know for sure.
Uncertainty.
++++++++++++
I’ve never been the pastor of a church.
I’ve done campus ministry at Austin College for 27 years and I was Associate pastor at NorthPark Presbyterian Church in Dallas for 6 ½ years before I came here.
One of the things that means is that I have often been asked to be the guest preacher at some church on the Sunday after Easter. In my trade, that’s affectionately known as “Associate Pastor Sunday.” Pastors work hard during Holy Week, and it’s not uncommon for them to invite somebody else to prepare and preach the sermon on the Sunday after Easter.
In the last 30+ years, I have often been that guy.
One of the things that means is that, through the years, I have spent a lot of time and energy thinking and writing and preaching about John 20:19-31. That’s the “Doubting Thomas” story. It’s the lectionary Gospel reading for the first Sunday after Easter every 3 years.
It’s a great story. And I guarantee you I can write more words about that story than you want to read right now.
But this year, I’m noticing something new as I think about John 20:19-31. Something I’ve never really focused on before.
I’m thinking there might be some particular insights in the this story as we all face this period of grief, fear, disorientation, and anxiety.
It’s a great story.
19 When it was evening on that day, the first day of the week,
“[T]hat day” was Easter.
and the doors of the house where the disciples had met
were locked for fear of the Jews,
The doors were locked because Jesus’s disciples were afraid that the people who had just arrested, convicted, and executed their friend were going to come after them next. They were legitimately worried.
“[F]or fear of the Jews” refers to the particular Jewish leaders who had arrested Jesus and turned him over to Pilate and the Roman authorities.
The ten disciples in this locked room were afraid of those Jews, not all Jews.
Unfortunately, through the centuries some small-minded and xenophobic Christians have used this passage to justify anti-Semitic behavior. That’s a complete and utter misunderstanding of this passage.
By the way, there are only ten of Jesus’ twelve disciples in that room when this story starts. We know why Judas was no longer welcome there—you know, the whole “betrayal” thing. But, as we’ll learn in a few verses, Thomas wasn’t there either. And we don’t know why. Doesn’t matter.
So, already in the first half of this verse, we’ve got grief as the disciples mourn the death of their friend Jesus and fear as they worry that they will also be arrested.
Jesus came and stood among them and said,
Hold on.
This is John 20:19. But Jesus died back in John 19:30.
These guys had all watched Jesus die on the cross the night before last.
Now it’s true that, just before this story, in John 20:1-18, Peter and John had gone to Jesus’ tomb and found it empty and Mary Magdalene had actually talked to Jesus. She had even told them what he had said to her.
So there is great temptation for all of us who are familiar with this story to just go gliding right past this little detail as though that kind of thing happens all the time.
It’s true that Peter and John and certainly Mary had set the stage for this moment for the other disciples.
But still, this is a Dead Man Walking showing up in a locked room.
I’m pretty sure Jesus showing up in their locked room would have been disorienting—even after the disciples had already heard from Mary that Jesus had talked to her. I doubt they had a plan for interacting with Jesus just then.
That might explain why Jesus does what he does next.
Jesus came and stood among them and said,
“Peace be with you.”
I’m pretty sure Peace would not have been the dominant feature of that room that night. But that’s what Jesus says.
20 After he said this, he showed them his hands and his side.
Yep. It just keeps getting weirder.
Now this Zombie guy who they knew was dead is saying, “Check out my wounds.”
Seriously. Pause for a second and think about what it would have been like to be in that room.
You’ve got grief for your executed friend who you watched die.
You’ve got fear because you’re afraid the same people who got him are coming for you.
Then you’ve got the totally disorienting
And apparently—and quite understandably—the disciples were uncertain about exactly what was going on.
20 After he said this, he showed them his hands and his side.
Then the disciples rejoiced when they saw the Lord.
The disciples don’t “rejoice” until after they touch Jesus and are convinced that this really is the same guy who they had been following and listening to and learning from for the last few years.
They don’t rejoice until after they touch his hands and his side.
Before that, they had been uncertain.
Mark that.
21 Jesus said to them again,
“Peace be with you.”
Again with the “Peace” stuff.
Jesus is beginning to sound like a hippie.
21 Jesus said to them again,
“Peace be with you.
As the Father has sent me, so I send you.”
This is the moment in John’s version of the Jesus story when those guys stop being disciples and become apostles.
A disciple is a student; a follower; and learner.
An apostle is someone who is sent with a mission.
John is foreshadowing.
The disciples are about to be given an assignment.
22 When he had said this,
he breathed on them and said to them,
“Receive the Holy Spirit.
It’s not enough that the Zombie guy shows up in a locked room full of terrified people, now he’s intentionally exhaling all over them.
That behavior wouldn’t fly in a pandemic.
23 If you forgive the sins of any, they are forgiven them;
if you retain the sins of any, they are retained.”
Interesting.
This is Jesus giving a certain kind of assignment and authority to those ten disciples.
He’s basically saying, “Now I want y’all to live a certain way in the world. I want y’all to take seriously the things that you’ve seen me take seriously; to embody grace, hope, courage, and self-sacrifice like I did.”
24 But Thomas (who was called the Twin),
one of the twelve,
was not with them when Jesus came.
We don’t know why. But this would have been a shorter and less interesting story if Thomas had been with the others.
25 So the other disciples told him,
“We have seen the Lord.”
But he said to them,
“Unless I see the mark of the nails in his hands,
and put my finger in the mark of the nails
and my hand in his side,
I will not believe.”
It’s hard to blame Thomas.
All he’s asking for is the very same experience that the other ten had back in verse 20.
But watch what happens next.
You could make the case that one of the most profound moments in this whole story takes place between the end of verse 25 and the beginning of verse 26.
26 A week later his disciples were again in the house,
and Thomas was with them.
Although the doors were shut,
Jesus came and stood among them and said,
“Peace be with you.”
Think about that.
For a week, there was not agreement among the disciples about whether or not Jesus had been raised from the dead.
Of course, the ten who had seen him were completely convinced that Jesus had risen.
But Thomas just couldn’t go there. He thought his partners had were in some kind of fantasy world.
Thomas in verse 25 reminds me of a line from a James McMurtry song:
You wish so hard you’re scaring me.
And yet as verse 26 begins, all eleven disciples were together anyway.
In this context in which they
· shared experiences of grief, fear, disorientation, and uncertainty
· but did not have the same experience of interacting with the risen Christ
the disciples had decided to stay together.
The ten didn’t kick Thomas out even though he didn’t believe the same thing about Jesus that they did.
And Thomas hadn’t left on his own even though he thought his friends had succumbed to pure wishful thinking.
I’m struck by that decision they all seem to have made to stay together.
I think maybe the “Peace” that Jesus keeps talking about in this story is evident in the disciples’ recognition that there are more important things than agreeing with each other.
I wonder if the Peace of the Risen Christ involves the recognition that the most important thing to do in the face of grief, fear, disorientation, and uncertainty is to decide to stay together.
27Then [Jesus] said to Thomas,
“Put your finger here and see my hands.
Reach out your hand and put it in my side.”
This is Thomas finally having the same experience that the other ten had back in verse 20.
But Jesus adds an extra line when he’s interacting with Thomas,
27Then [Jesus] said to Thomas,
“Put your finger here and see my hands.
Reach out your hand and put it in my side.
Do not doubt but believe.”
That’s the line that has traditionally been regarded as the sort of punch line for this whole story. It’s why this is called the Doubting Thomas story.
“Do not doubt but believe.”
Through the years, lots of well-intentioned Christians have written and spoken and preached millions and millions of words about the dangers of doubt. It still happens all the time.
I’m not one of those Christians.
Doubt in the form of critical thinking, of asking questions and seeking to transcend one’s limited perspective, is at the center of our enterprise here at Austin College. I don’t think Jesus is discouraging Thomas from critical thinking.
I think Jesus is calling Thomas to live in a world where Easter is true.
When he says, “Do not doubt but believe” I think Jesus is inviting and encouraging Thomas–even as he faces grief, fear, disorientation, and uncertainty–to decide to live and think and act in a world where those things are not the whole truth.
28 Thomas answered him, “My Lord and my God!”
29 Jesus said to him,
“Have you believed because you have seen me?
Blessed are those who have not seen
and yet have come to believe.”
That’s about all of us who haven’t touched the hands and the side of the risen Christ but who have decided to live together in a world that contains more than just grief, fear, disorientation, uncertainty, and death.
I think “Do not doubt but believe” is a call to decide to live and think and act in world where the whole truth also includes grace, hope, self-sacrifice, and courage.
++++++++++++
Until we get a viable vaccine
this unprecedented outbreak will not be overcome
in grand, sweeping gesture,
rather only by the collection of individual choices
our community makes in the coming months.
–Jonathan Smith,
Lecturer in Epidemiology of Microbial Diseases and Global Health
at the Yale University School of Public Health
“…only by the collection of individual choices…”
In this season of grief, fear, disorientation, and uncertainty, I think it might be valuable for us to follow the example of all eleven disciples in the Doubting Thomas story and make some decisions.
At this particular time, each of us all of us have the opportunity, and the duty, to make the conscious decision
· to live together in peace,
· to continue to execute and endure social distancing
· to practice patience,
· to stay together (remotely but really)
· and to care for each other.
We can make that happen.
We can expect and embody grace, hope, self-sacrifice, and courage.
In our individual lives and in our life together.
Right now.
Today.
Tomorrow.
And into the future.
Let’s do that.
Let’s decide again to be who we know we are—people who are prepared to do everything we can do for each other and for the world.
This is not easy.
But it’s our time.
Let’s rise to it.
Together.
For as long as it takes.
Because that’s how we roll in #ROONation.
Until Next Time, I remain,
Just Another Cowboy Preacher,
Glad that You Are One of the Ones with Us as We Face this Challenge,
JOHN WILLIAMS
Chaplain
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Weekday Email to Members and Friends – 2020-04-20
Monday April 20th 2020
A Weekday Emailer from
Matt Matthews
To Members and Friends of
First Presbyterian Church
Champaign, Illinois
Dear Friends,
I’m getting a lot of emails from you thanking me for all I’m doing at the church.
I’d so like to take all the credit.
But as you well know, everybody on staff is rising to the occasion in amazing, mainly unseen ways. Eric is our technology guru making difficult things look easy. Ann Petry, our bookkeeper, just filed a billion pages of detailed info in our CARES Act application. Marcia continues to push and pull all necessary levers to make the office work. Ritchie checks our buildings during the week and responds whenever a thunderstorm triggers an after-hours alarm. Jeanette tutoring from home, Mindy (and her friend Jip), Blaise, Lizz, Patty—all willing to go the extra mile, as usual. Fred cut the grass last week before winter showed back up. George checks the church buildings on weekends missing worshippers and the smell of coffee from the Deacon’s Kitchen. Connor sings songs on Facebook. Robert is as faithful and as easy going as ever producing worship. Richard and Leslie have provided music; Joe (and Miranda) has provided song, wisdom, and perspective. I’m moved to tears.
The Session has put in extra hours. Our deacons are making and keeping community connections; Rachel is parsing the intricacies of new community-wide Covid-19 relief initiatives. At least three key lay leaders in our church had ‘retired’ from their duties, taking a well-deserved step back, hoping for a needed rest; each has stepped back up standing in the breach for us because they know the ropes and they know we need them. Our members are praying, reaching, learning new skills, refusing to be shut down, innovating, and loving each other and their neighbors. And God is still God: sovereign, gracious, amazing, with as much power as ten million nuclear suns—in just a sliver of a sliver of a sliver of divine fingernail.
O LORD, our LORD, how majestic is your name in all the earth.
I’m more tired than usual because of the grief we all share. Personally, I miss weekly pickleball games and friends. Rachel and I cancelled our trip to Montevideo. Our son’s study-abroad program was torpedoed. The Ebert Film Festival was cancelled and our theologian in residence stayed put in New York. They necessarily postponed the Boneyard Arts Festival, and we had big plans for unveiling some original, home-grown art. I can’t get dinner at Antica Pizza. Krannert and the Virginia Theatre are mothballed. My schedule is off. (Woe is me.)
I’m also more tired than usual because I often think I’m the captain in charge of steering our church through this, which would be crushing if it were true. Thankfully, however, it is not true. I’m only doing my part. And God is taking my part, rolling it up with everybody else’s part, and transforming imperfect graces into something holy, new, and possibly useful. To God be the glory.
This is as it has always been.
Pandemic certainly didn’t cause this. But pandemic has helped me (us?) to see it more clearly when I had either not noticed before or, worse, had barely cared. Ann Stout led devotions for our recent Session meeting. She asked us, “Where have you seen Jesus lately.” A few people spoke up. (Zoom technology has a way of chilling conversation.) I couldn’t speak up simply because my question was altogether different:
Where have I not seen Jesus lately?
Thank you for thanking me.
I’ll pass it on.
News:
CU-BetterTogether . . . Is a new community group (United Way, Community Foundation, YMCA, and local churches) coming together to fight hunger and give hope to area public school families in need. Ask Rachel Matthews for more info.Want to help? Are you between 18- and 60-years-old? You can, here: https://www.
I need help: Can you tell me where in Mount Hope Cemetery our former minister John S. Frame is buried? He died around 1876. I have found Rev. George. McKinley’s grave. Please help.
Humor: Family lock down boogie (Thanks Beth Hutchens)
https://www.youtube.com/watch?
New fun photo challenge! Each week the Nurture Committee is challenging us to read an assigned scripture about Jesus and come up with a representation of the story using whatever you already have around the house and share it in photo form.
CHALLENGE #1 — BIRTH LUKE 2:6-12
This story begins in a different way
The baby Jesus was sleeping on hay
He was the Messiah, God’s only son
But his journey began as a quiet, humble one
With your family, create a scene with baby Jesus in a manger with anything you can find around the house and take a photo.
Think about what it meant that Jesus wasn’t born rich or mighty, but as a humble baby just like us. Talk about why that is important for us as we follow Him.
Post your photo to:
https://www.facebook.com/
live@firstpres.church
For Instagram @fpcchampaign
Here is an example thanks to Gary and Linda Peterson…
Good Word:
Psalm 8 O Lord, our Sovereign,
how majestic is your name in all the earth!
You have set your glory above the heavens.
2 Out of the mouths of babes and infants
you have founded a bulwark because of your foes,
to silence the enemy and the avenger.
3 When I look at your heavens, the work of your fingers,
the moon and the stars that you have established;
4 what are human beings that you are mindful of them,
mortals that you care for them?
5 Yet you have made them a little lower than God,
and crowned them with glory and honor.
6 You have given them dominion over the works of your hands;
you have put all things under their feet,
7 all sheep and oxen,
and also the beasts of the field,
8 the birds of the air, and the fish of the sea,
whatever passes along the paths of the seas.
9 O Lord, our Sovereign,
how majestic is your name in all the earth!
Let us pray:
O Lord our God, how magnificent is the works of Your hands. You called creation into being with a single word. You divided the mountains and oceans with a single thought. You ran Your fingers through the dry dust forming river beds and spacious lakes. Trees point their heads to the sky in adoration. Flowers illumine the landscape with colors beyond our imagination. We stand in awe of Your holy craftsmanship. O Lord our God, how magnificent is the works of Your hands.
(Rev. Louie V. Andrews, III)
Much love to you all.
PEACE,
Matt Matthews
Cell: 864.386.9138
Matt@FirstPres.Church
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Weekday Email to Members and Friends – 2020-04-17
Friday 17 April 2020
Members and Friends of
First Presbyterian Church
Champaign, Illinois
Dear Friends,
Wynton Marsalis’s father, Ellis, died several days ago of Coronavirus. Wynton wrote this about his dad. I pulled it from Facebook (I think), but it originated from his blog and I’m using it without permission. I don’t think he’d mind. I hope. I’d like to meet Wynton. If you’ve ever grieved, you might resonate his words.
My daddy passed away last night. We now join the worldwide family who are mourning grandfathers and grandmothers, mothers and fathers, sisters and brothers— kinfolk, friends, neighbors, colleagues, acquaintances and others.
What can one possibly say about loss in a time when there are many people losing folks that mean so much to them? One of my friends lost both her mother AND father just last week. We all grieve and experience things differently, and I’m sure each of my five brothers are feeling and dealing in their own way.
My daddy was a humble man with a lyrical sound that captured the spirit of place–New Orleans, the Crescent City, The Big Easy, the Curve. He was a stone-cold believer without extravagant tastes.
Like many parents, he sacrificed for us and made so much possible. Not only material things, but things of substance and beauty like the ability to hear complicated music and to read books; to see and to contemplate art; to be philosophical and kind, but to also understand that a time and place may require a pugilistic-minded expression of ignorance.
His example for all of us who were his students (a big extended family from everywhere), showed us to be patient and to want to learn and to respect teaching and thinking and to embrace the joy of seriousness. He taught us that you could be conscious and stand your ground with an opinion rooted ‘in something’ even if it was overwhelmingly unfashionable. And that if it mattered to someone, it mattered.
I haven’t cried because the pain is so deep….it doesn’t even hurt. He was absolutely my man. He knew how much I loved him, and I knew he loved me (though he was not given to any type of demonstrative expression of it). As a boy, I followed him on so many underpopulated gigs in unglamorous places, and there, in the passing years, learned what it meant to believe in the substance of a fundamental idea whose only verification was your belief.
I only ever wanted to do better things to impress HIM. He was my North Star and the only opinion that really deep down mattered to me was his because I grew up seeing how much he struggled and sacrificed to represent and teach vital human values that floated far above the stifling segregation and prejudice that defined his youth but, strangely enough, also imbued his art with an even more pungent and biting accuracy.
But for all of that, I guess he was like all of us; he did the best he could, did great things, had blind spots and made mistakes, fought with his spouse, had problems paying bills, worried about his kids and other people’s, rooted for losing teams, loved gumbo and red beans, and my momma’s pecan pie. But unlike a healthy portion of us, he really didn’t complain about stuff. No matter how bad it was.
A most fair-minded, large-spirited, generous, philanthropic (with whatever he had), open-minded person is gone. Ironically, when we spoke just 5 or 6 days ago about this precarious moment in the world and the many warnings he received ‘to be careful, because it wasn’t his time to pass from COVID’, he told me,” Man, I don’t determine the time. A lot of people are losing loved ones. Yours will be no more painful or significant than anybody else’s”.
That was him, “in a nutshell”, (as he would say before talking for another 15 minutes without pause).
In that conversation, we didn’t know that we were prophesying. But he went out soon after as he lived—-without complaint or complication. The nurse asked him, “Are you breathing ok?” as the oxygen was being steadily increased from 3 to 8, to too late, he replied, ”Yeah. I’m fine.”
For me, there is no sorrow only joy. He went on down the Good Kings Highway as was his way, a jazz man, “with grace and gratitude.”
And I am grateful to have known him.
– Wynton
I’ll be talking about grief in my sermon on Sunday. Bring your pain, your hope, your joy, your doubt. Come as you are.
“See” you then.
FirstPres.Live
Pay attention to God’s activity in the world around you.
Be amazed.
Tell somebody.
PEACE,
Matt Matthews
864.386.9138
Matt@FirstPres.Church
Ellis and Wynton together:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OB_-5-BQyqk
* * *
I’m pretty sure folk aren’t taking me up on my movie suggestions. I’ve been looking forward to a long time to the Ebert Film Festival. Alas, it was cancelled. Here are my last three film suggestions. Enjoy:
Friday night at the movies: “The Mission”
Mr. Ebert gave it only 2.5 stars out of 4, but I liked it a lot. On Sunday, you’ll hear a theme song of this film in worship. You’ll certainly love that.
Friday night at the movies:
Ebert’s take on the movie “Schindler’s List”
https://www.rogerebert.com/reviews/great-movie-schindlers-list-1993
Friday night at the movies:
Ebert’s take on the movie “Smoke Signals”
https://www.rogerebert.com/reviews/smoke-signals-1998
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