I Shall Always Be Near You
Stories
Object:
Contents
A Story to Live By: "I Shall Always Be Near You"
An All Saints' Day Story: "Our Family in Heaven" by Jeff Veenhuis
Sharing Visions: "Christ Entered In" by Patricia L. Lietzke
Scrap Pile: "Longing for Friendship" by John Sumwalt
Communion Liturgy for November 2 by Thom M. Shuman
A Story to Live By
I Shall Always Be Near You
And I heard a loud voice from the throne saying, "See, the home of God is among mortals. He will dwell with them; they will be his peoples, and God himself will be with them; he will wipe away every tear from their eyes."
Revelation 21:3-4a
Major Sullivan Ballou wrote this in a letter to his wife before a battle in the Civil War:
...I have, I know, but few and small claims upon Divine Providence, but something whispers to me -- perhaps it is the wafted prayer of my little Edgar, that I shall return to my loved ones unharmed. If I do not, my dear Sarah, never forget how much I love you, and when my last breath escapes me on the battlefield, it will whisper your name. Forgive my many faults and the many pains I have caused you. How thoughtless and foolish I have often times been! How gladly would I wash out with my tears every little spot upon your happiness....
But, O Sarah! If the dead can come back to this earth and flit unseen around those they loved, I shall always be near you; in the gladdest days and in the darkest nights... always, always, and if there be a soft breeze upon your cheek, it shall be my breath, as the cool air fans your throbbing temple, it shall be my spirit passing by. Sarah, do not mourn me dead: think I am gone and wait for thee, for we shall meet again....
Sullivan Ballou was killed in the first battle of Bull Run one week after he wrote this letter.
(From the Ken Burns documentary The Civil War, shown on PBS. For the full text of the letter, plus more information about Sullivan Ballou, click here: http://www.pbs.org/civilwar/war/ballou_letter.html)
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An All Saints' Day Story
Our Family in Heaven
by Jeff Veenhuis
And I heard a loud voice from the throne saying, "See, the home of God is among mortals. He will dwell with them; they will be his peoples, and God himself will be with them; he will wipe away every tear from their eyes."
Revelation 21:3-4a
Our daughter, Nicole, was born November 16, 1998, a beautiful and apparently healthy baby. Betsy and I were elated. Several days later, our dreams and aspirations for a healthy first child (and our parents' first grandchild) came crashing down. Nicole had a hypoplastic left heart, which means she was born with only one of the two pumping chambers, or ventricles, in her heart. She also had what the doctors called "transposition of the greater vessels." Her aorta and pulmonary artery were transposed. The doctors did everything they could to save Nicole, but her heart could not support her tiny body. She passed away on November 24, at the age of eight days.
Betsy and I, and all of our family, were devastated. It was the most difficult and soul-searching event in our lives. It has been a challenge to our faith. We have wondered why God would want to take a seemingly perfect child from us.
Six months later, in May of 1999, we were still wondering when I had a startling dream which caused me to sit bolt upright in bed and to begin sweating profusely. The dream involved a message from two very important men in my life, my own dear grandfather, Clarence Eisenga, and Betsy's grandfather, Harold Bergman, a man I had never met.
Grandpa Eisenga was a large man with a big heart, whose weathered body showed many signs of his almost seventy years of farming. His posture and pose were impressive. His hands and feet were huge. I will never forget being enveloped in his enormous lap and the safety it provided throughout my childhood and much of my adolescence. Grandpa was a devoutly Christian man who often spoke with a tear in his eye about the importance of family and the absolute necessity of a Christian home. He was very proud of his family, especially all of his grandchildren and great-grandchildren. Grandpa became ill shortly after Nicole died, and he went to heaven in March of 1999.
It seemed very natural that night to find myself sitting again in Grandpa's big, comfortable lap. I saw a bright, round light, and in its shadow, on one side, the well-lit image of Harold Bergman, the man I had never met; Betsy's grandfather who died in 1986, long before she and I had even dated.
I had seen many pictures of Harold. He was a strapping man who loved people and reveled in the sales work he did for the family paper company. Like my grandfather, Harold loved God and adored his family. All of his grandchildren referred to him fondly as "Bumpa." He was a longtime active member of Wauwatosa Avenue United Methodist Church, where Betsy and I are now members. I always wished that I had met him and been able to know him.
Harold was holding a baby girl in his arms. He was looking down in fondness at the baby and never really looked up at me until the very end of the dream. I remember gazing down and seeing Grandpa Eisenga's work jeans. I never saw his face, but I felt the unmistakable presence of his lap. I know I was in Grandpa's lap, because I heard his deep, somewhat slurred voice reassure me, saying only, "We are just fine." While it seems disconnected, all I remember next is looking at the bright, round light, now with Grandpa's back to me, silhouetted against it. As he walked closer to Harold and the baby, Harold passed the baby into Grandpa's arms, and then Harold spoke to me for the first time ever. While I cannot describe the sound of his voice, or exactly what he said, I know I will hear him again one day and I will know him instantly. He said something to the effect of "Like you and Betsy are a family, we too are a family here. We love you very much."
Call me clueless, but until he said that it had not hit me that the baby was Nicole. This discovery startled me and I awoke. I found myself sitting upright in bed, something that has never happened to me before or since, and I immediately started to sweat. It must have been about 1:00 a.m. I remember lying awake for over an hour, trying to make sense out of what I had seen and heard.
Was there a message I was supposed to receive from this "vision"? The images and tones in my vision were not soft, as one might expect, but very sharp and clear. The message was clear, too, that we should always remember that we have family in heaven, caring for those who go before us, and that our family on earth carries over into heaven. I believe that Harold taught Nicole and Grandpa Eisenga how to "touch" people on earth. He has always been described to me as a "people person" while he was on earth, and has seemingly remained active in the afterlife. Harold appeared several times to family and friends while we lived in his former house in Wauwatosa. I think he and Grandpa wanted to let us know that all is right in heaven by reinforcing the tie between earthly and heavenly families.
These men were father figures in many people's lives while they were here, and were the patriarchs of their families. Their values and their compassion are instilled in each of those they left behind. Someday, I too will be a patriarch. I have these men and their legacy to maintain and uphold.
There are many things I have learned and been forced to think through after Nicole's and Grandpa's deaths. This vision is sure to bring new meaning as I continue to understand its message.
Jeff Veenhuis resides in Brookfield, Wisconsin, with his wife Betsy, their 3-year-old son Jacob, and their 1-year-old daughter Emily. He works for Medtronics, a leading medical device technology company. He is a member of Wauwatosa Avenue United Methodist Church, and shared this story on All Saints' Sunday, 2002.
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Sharing Visions
Christ Entered In
by Patricia L. Lietzke
But when Christ came as a high priest of the good things that have come, then through the greater and perfect tent (not made with hands, that is, not of this creation), he entered once for all into the Holy Place, not with the blood of goats and calves, but with his own blood, thus obtaining eternal redemption.
Hebrews 9:11-12
In November of 1989, during a time away from home for personal spiritual growth, I had a short dream. The memory of it, even today, is clear and simple. The dream left me with the image of an old, balding man, head slightly bowed, who was facing away from me. His attire was an oversized coat and slacks that drooped in folds over his shoes.
During the day, the image remained in my mind's eye, and I was puzzled by it, wondering whether I might be able to draw the man. I knew I could draw what I see with my eyes, so I thought I might do that with the mind's eye image as well, and it proved to be quite easy.
I shared the art rendition and dream with a friend who suggested that I prop the picture at my bedside before I slept, inviting the old man to "tell" me what he wanted and why he had come in my dream. I followed the suggestion out of curiosity.
That night, I felt awakened by the window being rattled in the wind of a snowstorm. I was not fully awake or asleep. It was as if I was semi-conscious. The image of the old man was clear in the night, even though I could not actually see the drawing in the darkness. I asked the man to tell me what he wanted. His answer was, "Take Christ into yourself." At that point, I found myself, still only semi-conscious, drawing my hands over my body from my pelvic area up to my chest, repeating the motion for a very long time until I fell soundly asleep.
In the morning, I felt surprised and a little overwhelmed by the experience. I commented to others during the morning about the windy, stormy night, and was greeted by quizzical looks and comments about the stillness of the night.
The next day, I drew the profile of a woman looking up with the appearance of "knowing" or "understanding." A few weeks later, I drew another image that seemed to be connected to the first two. It was a figure in a cape with hands reaching out in front that had yellow bursts of energy coming from them. The three images became for me "spirit guides" who represent pain, wisdom, and healing.
Until now, I have only shared this event with a few trusted friends. The experience has kept me on the path of my Christian faith and its roots. Christ's life and teachings are those, for me, that I attempt to example as best I can through my life. I feel that the dream images are gifts to be treasured from a loving creator.
Patricia L. Lietzke works as a multimedia artist with a focus on touch drawing. She has an art studio/gallery called "Leap of Faith," and worships at Community United Methodist Church in Cedarburg, Wisconsin.
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Scrap Pile
Longing for Friendship
by John Sumwalt
"Where you go, I will go; Where you lodge, I will lodge; your people shall be my people, and your God my God."
Ruth 1:16b
Jacquelyn Mitchard wrote in a column about friendship:
I'm not a good friend, and neither are most of my friends, though they're better than me. We all have an all-purpose excuse -- "Life's been absolutely crazy lately." And that's poignantly true. We make it so, but it's true.... They call, and I'm on the run. I call, and they're just heading out the door. Blame the culture? Blame our own exhaustion? Sometimes, I think it's this: My generation believes, still, somehow, that we will live forever, and have time to pick up all the stitches we have dropped. We give lip service to the importance of friendship, but we don't put the coinage of friendship -- which is time -- behind our words. Sometimes I wonder whether people of my generation know what friendship really comprises.
(from a "The Rest of Us" column by Jacquelyn Mitchard, in the Milwaukee Journal-Sentinel, Sept. 17, 2000. To view the entire column, click on http://www.jsonline.com/lifestyle/advice/sep00/mitccol17091600a.asp)
I recognize myself in these remarks. I am so caught up in the business of modern life that I don't have time to nurture the friendships that I cherish. And yet it is what I long for more than anything else.
Jo and I have had two opportunities recently to travel some distance to have a meal and spend time with longtime friends who we see only once or twice a year. In both instances the invitation was their initiative -- and we were reluctant to go because it was too far, we were too busy and too tired -- but we went because we love these people, and we were blessed by laughter, the sharing of memories, and love.
It helped us remember who we are. How could we have ever thought that we didn't have time for that?
Someone wrote, "A friend is someone who knows the song in your heart and can sing it back to you when you have forgotten the words."
Our text today is about friendship and love -- how God blesses us through our friends.
The story begins with an ironic statement. There was a famine in Bethlehem. Bethlehem means "House of Bread." There was no bread in the "House of Bread."
A man named Elimilech goes to live in Moab, a hated people and a hated land, an event comparable to Jews today being forced to go live in an Arab land or Palestinians being forced to live in a Jewish land. One commentator states:
Before we can decide what corresponds to Moab in our lives today, we have to ask, what are the things we think we despise until we are forced to turn to them in times of crisis? Or what do we seek out in desperate times that ends up killing us or making our lives unfruitful? Members of a clan named "Fruitfulness" move to Moab in order to live, but end up dying one after another, leaving no fruit (children) behind them...
(Kathleen A. Robertson Farmer, The New Interpreter's Bible, Abingdon Press, 1981, p. 902)
Moab did not prove to be a blessing for Elimilech, his wife Naomi, or his two sons. First Elimilech died, then his sons took Moabite wives, Orpah and Ruth, who were still childless ten years later when both sons died. Naomi, left with these Moabite daughters-in-law, decides to return to Bethlehem and bids the young women to stay with their own people. Orpah stays, but Ruth insists on leaving her own family and her own country and going with her mother-in-law. Many years later, after much hardship, Ruth will marry a kinsman of Naomi -- a nice Jewish man named Boaz -- and they will have a son named Obed who will be the grandfather of King David.
But Ruth doesn't know any of this at the time. She only knows that, somehow, her destiny is entwined with that of her mother-in-law, and that she cannot bear to live without her. She has become more dear to her than her own kin. And so she says to Naomi the words that we all know so well:
Entreat me not to leave thee, or to return from following after thee: for whither thou goest, I will go; and where thou lodgest, I will lodge: thy people shall be my people, and thy God my God. Where thou diest, I will die, and there will I be buried: the Lord do so to me, and more also, if ought but death part thee and me. (Ruth 1:16-17, King James Version)
Did you ever have a friend like that who would go anywhere with you and do anything for you?
The story is told of a World War I soldier who saw his lifelong friend fall in battle. Caught in a trench with continuous gunfire whizzing over his head, the soldier asked his lieutenant if he might go out into the "No Man's Land" between the trenches to bring his fallen comrade back.
"You can go," said the lieutenant, "but I don't think it will be worth it. Your friend is probably dead, and you may throw your own life away." The lieutenant's words didn't matter, and the soldier went anyway.
Miraculously, he managed to reach his friend, hoist him onto his shoulder, and bring him back to their company's trench. As the two of them tumbled in together to the bottom of the trench, the officer checked the wounded soldier, then looked kindly at his friend. "I told you it wouldn't be worth it," he said. "Your friend is dead, and you are mortally wounded."
"It was worth it, though, sir," the soldier said.
"How do you mean, 'worth it'?" responded the lieutenant. "Your friend is dead!"
"Yes sir," the private answered. "But it was worth it because when I got to him he was still alive, and I had the satisfaction of hearing him say, 'Jim, I knew you'd come.' "
Oh, how we long for a friend like that, who will love us and stay with us no matter what comes. It is the refrain of a familiar song we sang a few moments ago:
"And he walks with me, and he talks with me, and he tells me I am his own; and the joy we share as we tarry there, none other has ever known."
(from "In the Garden," words and music by C. Austin Miles)
Jesus is the friend we long for, the friend who knows the song in our hearts and sings it back to us when we've forgotten the words.
Excerpts from a sermon preached at Wauwatosa Avenue United Methodist Church in Milwaukee, Wisconsin, November 5, 2000.
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Communion Liturgy For November 2
by Thom M. Shuman
Call to Worship
Leader: You are welcome in this place,
where God meets us in love.
People: Why are we here?
We are here to love God
with all that we have and all that we are.
Leader: You are welcome in this place,
where God loves us as children.
People: Why are we here?
We are here to love ourselves
as deeply as God loves us.
Leader: You are welcome in this place,
where God serves us at the Table of love and grace.
People: Why are we here?
We are here to be sent forth to love others
as deeply as we love God and ourselves.
Prayer of the Day (and our Lord's Prayer)
Living God:
when there is a famine in our souls,
you feed us with grace;
when there are pockets of poverty in our love for others,
you bless us with generosity;
when we are empty and alone,
you move into our hearts.
Jesus, bearer of the good things that have come to us:
you bow down to lift us from our despair;
you embrace over those who haven't a friend in the world;
you open the eyes of those struck blind by arrogance and ambition.
Eternal Spirit:
you walk with us wherever we go;
you take the fragments of our lives and reshape us into holy people;
you are with us, and not even death can separate us.
God in Community, Holy in One,
hear us as we pray the prayer Jesus taught us to say together:
Our Father . . .
Call to Reconciliation
The world teaches us many ways to love, but all are based on selfish desires and needs.
God teaches us how to love: completely, uniquely, unconditionally.
Let us confess our difficulty in loving as God teaches us, as we pray, saying . . .
(Unison) Prayer of Confession
We are reluctant to confess, Holy God, how hard it is to love as you command. It is easy to love you with all that we are, except when you ask us to love our neighbor with all that we have. We find it hard to love our neighbor when it is linked to the way we love ourselves. And it is difficult to love anyone -- even you -- more than we love ourselves.
Forgive us, Eternal Love. As you took a risk in creating us, help us to take risks to love others, to love ourselves genuinely, and to love you as completely as you love us in Jesus Christ, our Lord and Savior.
Assurance of Pardon
Leader: In God's Kingdom, all are loved for who they are, not what they do;
in God's Kingdom, all are forgiven for what they do, and don't;
in God's Kingdom, all are welcome and fed by God's grace and hope.
People: Forgive, loved, sent forth -- we are not far from God's Kingdom!
Thanks be to God. Amen.
Great Prayer of Thanksgiving
Leader: My beloved sisters and brothers, may the Lord be with you,
People: and also with you.
Leader: My beloved brothers and sisters, lift up your hearts.
People: Our hearts are lifted high to God.
Leader: My beloved sisters and brothers, let us give thanks to the Lord our God.
People: Thanksgiving is in our hearts, and praise is on our lips.
We will sing praises to you all life long, O Lord our God,
maker of the earth, the heavens, the seas, and all that dwell within them.
You made us in your image, that we might reflect your grace;
you breathed the Spirit into us, that we might be your people,
and worship you forever.
But blinded by the seductions of the world, we wandered far from your kingdom,
putting our trust in the powers that cannot save us.
Despite our turning our backs on you, you have clung to us in grace and love,
determined to be faithful to the covenant you established with us.
Therefore, we join our voices,
with the saints of every time and every place,
singing our praises to your heart:
Sanctus
We praise you, Holy God,
and bless your Son, Jesus Christ, our Help, our Hope, our Lord.
He opened the eyes of the blind,
that we might behold your grace.
He loosened the bonds of the captive,
that we might follow in freedom.
He watched over strangers,
that we might become brothers and sisters.
He lifted up those who had fallen,
that we might walk the streets of the Kingdom.
He gave his heart to those ignored by the world,
that the widow and orphan might find their heart's home in you.
He endured death's embrace,
that we might be welcomed into eternal life with you.
His life, his words, his death, his resurrection
are mysteries we may not understand completely,
but which we proclaim with faith:
Memorial Acclamation
As we break the Bread of Life and drink from the Cup of Salvation,
pour out your eternal Spirit upon these gifts and those who will receive them.
Despite our unfaithfulness,
we are determined to go with you.
Despite our weakness,
we are resolved to worship you.
Despite our fears and prejudices,
we are unfaltering in our commitment to justice and hope for others.
Through your Son, Jesus Christ, with the Holy Spirit in your holy church,
all honor and glory are yours, Great God our hope,
now and forever. Amen.
Thom M. Shuman pastors Greenhills (Presbyterian) Community Church in Cincinnati, Ohio, where (in his own words) he struggles to be faithful to God's calling.
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StoryShare, November 2, 2003, issue.
Copyright 2003 by CSS Publishing Company, Inc., Lima, Ohio.
All rights reserved. Subscribers to the StoryShare service may print and use this material as it was intended in sermons, in worship and classroom settings, in brief devotions, in radio spots, and as newsletter fillers. No additional permission is required from the publisher for such use by subscribers only. Inquiries should be addressed to permissions@csspub.com or to Permissions, CSS Publishing Company, Inc., P.O. Box 4503, Lima, Ohio 45802-4503.
A Story to Live By: "I Shall Always Be Near You"
An All Saints' Day Story: "Our Family in Heaven" by Jeff Veenhuis
Sharing Visions: "Christ Entered In" by Patricia L. Lietzke
Scrap Pile: "Longing for Friendship" by John Sumwalt
Communion Liturgy for November 2 by Thom M. Shuman
A Story to Live By
I Shall Always Be Near You
And I heard a loud voice from the throne saying, "See, the home of God is among mortals. He will dwell with them; they will be his peoples, and God himself will be with them; he will wipe away every tear from their eyes."
Revelation 21:3-4a
Major Sullivan Ballou wrote this in a letter to his wife before a battle in the Civil War:
...I have, I know, but few and small claims upon Divine Providence, but something whispers to me -- perhaps it is the wafted prayer of my little Edgar, that I shall return to my loved ones unharmed. If I do not, my dear Sarah, never forget how much I love you, and when my last breath escapes me on the battlefield, it will whisper your name. Forgive my many faults and the many pains I have caused you. How thoughtless and foolish I have often times been! How gladly would I wash out with my tears every little spot upon your happiness....
But, O Sarah! If the dead can come back to this earth and flit unseen around those they loved, I shall always be near you; in the gladdest days and in the darkest nights... always, always, and if there be a soft breeze upon your cheek, it shall be my breath, as the cool air fans your throbbing temple, it shall be my spirit passing by. Sarah, do not mourn me dead: think I am gone and wait for thee, for we shall meet again....
Sullivan Ballou was killed in the first battle of Bull Run one week after he wrote this letter.
(From the Ken Burns documentary The Civil War, shown on PBS. For the full text of the letter, plus more information about Sullivan Ballou, click here: http://www.pbs.org/civilwar/war/ballou_letter.html)
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An All Saints' Day Story
Our Family in Heaven
by Jeff Veenhuis
And I heard a loud voice from the throne saying, "See, the home of God is among mortals. He will dwell with them; they will be his peoples, and God himself will be with them; he will wipe away every tear from their eyes."
Revelation 21:3-4a
Our daughter, Nicole, was born November 16, 1998, a beautiful and apparently healthy baby. Betsy and I were elated. Several days later, our dreams and aspirations for a healthy first child (and our parents' first grandchild) came crashing down. Nicole had a hypoplastic left heart, which means she was born with only one of the two pumping chambers, or ventricles, in her heart. She also had what the doctors called "transposition of the greater vessels." Her aorta and pulmonary artery were transposed. The doctors did everything they could to save Nicole, but her heart could not support her tiny body. She passed away on November 24, at the age of eight days.
Betsy and I, and all of our family, were devastated. It was the most difficult and soul-searching event in our lives. It has been a challenge to our faith. We have wondered why God would want to take a seemingly perfect child from us.
Six months later, in May of 1999, we were still wondering when I had a startling dream which caused me to sit bolt upright in bed and to begin sweating profusely. The dream involved a message from two very important men in my life, my own dear grandfather, Clarence Eisenga, and Betsy's grandfather, Harold Bergman, a man I had never met.
Grandpa Eisenga was a large man with a big heart, whose weathered body showed many signs of his almost seventy years of farming. His posture and pose were impressive. His hands and feet were huge. I will never forget being enveloped in his enormous lap and the safety it provided throughout my childhood and much of my adolescence. Grandpa was a devoutly Christian man who often spoke with a tear in his eye about the importance of family and the absolute necessity of a Christian home. He was very proud of his family, especially all of his grandchildren and great-grandchildren. Grandpa became ill shortly after Nicole died, and he went to heaven in March of 1999.
It seemed very natural that night to find myself sitting again in Grandpa's big, comfortable lap. I saw a bright, round light, and in its shadow, on one side, the well-lit image of Harold Bergman, the man I had never met; Betsy's grandfather who died in 1986, long before she and I had even dated.
I had seen many pictures of Harold. He was a strapping man who loved people and reveled in the sales work he did for the family paper company. Like my grandfather, Harold loved God and adored his family. All of his grandchildren referred to him fondly as "Bumpa." He was a longtime active member of Wauwatosa Avenue United Methodist Church, where Betsy and I are now members. I always wished that I had met him and been able to know him.
Harold was holding a baby girl in his arms. He was looking down in fondness at the baby and never really looked up at me until the very end of the dream. I remember gazing down and seeing Grandpa Eisenga's work jeans. I never saw his face, but I felt the unmistakable presence of his lap. I know I was in Grandpa's lap, because I heard his deep, somewhat slurred voice reassure me, saying only, "We are just fine." While it seems disconnected, all I remember next is looking at the bright, round light, now with Grandpa's back to me, silhouetted against it. As he walked closer to Harold and the baby, Harold passed the baby into Grandpa's arms, and then Harold spoke to me for the first time ever. While I cannot describe the sound of his voice, or exactly what he said, I know I will hear him again one day and I will know him instantly. He said something to the effect of "Like you and Betsy are a family, we too are a family here. We love you very much."
Call me clueless, but until he said that it had not hit me that the baby was Nicole. This discovery startled me and I awoke. I found myself sitting upright in bed, something that has never happened to me before or since, and I immediately started to sweat. It must have been about 1:00 a.m. I remember lying awake for over an hour, trying to make sense out of what I had seen and heard.
Was there a message I was supposed to receive from this "vision"? The images and tones in my vision were not soft, as one might expect, but very sharp and clear. The message was clear, too, that we should always remember that we have family in heaven, caring for those who go before us, and that our family on earth carries over into heaven. I believe that Harold taught Nicole and Grandpa Eisenga how to "touch" people on earth. He has always been described to me as a "people person" while he was on earth, and has seemingly remained active in the afterlife. Harold appeared several times to family and friends while we lived in his former house in Wauwatosa. I think he and Grandpa wanted to let us know that all is right in heaven by reinforcing the tie between earthly and heavenly families.
These men were father figures in many people's lives while they were here, and were the patriarchs of their families. Their values and their compassion are instilled in each of those they left behind. Someday, I too will be a patriarch. I have these men and their legacy to maintain and uphold.
There are many things I have learned and been forced to think through after Nicole's and Grandpa's deaths. This vision is sure to bring new meaning as I continue to understand its message.
Jeff Veenhuis resides in Brookfield, Wisconsin, with his wife Betsy, their 3-year-old son Jacob, and their 1-year-old daughter Emily. He works for Medtronics, a leading medical device technology company. He is a member of Wauwatosa Avenue United Methodist Church, and shared this story on All Saints' Sunday, 2002.
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Sharing Visions
Christ Entered In
by Patricia L. Lietzke
But when Christ came as a high priest of the good things that have come, then through the greater and perfect tent (not made with hands, that is, not of this creation), he entered once for all into the Holy Place, not with the blood of goats and calves, but with his own blood, thus obtaining eternal redemption.
Hebrews 9:11-12
In November of 1989, during a time away from home for personal spiritual growth, I had a short dream. The memory of it, even today, is clear and simple. The dream left me with the image of an old, balding man, head slightly bowed, who was facing away from me. His attire was an oversized coat and slacks that drooped in folds over his shoes.
During the day, the image remained in my mind's eye, and I was puzzled by it, wondering whether I might be able to draw the man. I knew I could draw what I see with my eyes, so I thought I might do that with the mind's eye image as well, and it proved to be quite easy.
I shared the art rendition and dream with a friend who suggested that I prop the picture at my bedside before I slept, inviting the old man to "tell" me what he wanted and why he had come in my dream. I followed the suggestion out of curiosity.
That night, I felt awakened by the window being rattled in the wind of a snowstorm. I was not fully awake or asleep. It was as if I was semi-conscious. The image of the old man was clear in the night, even though I could not actually see the drawing in the darkness. I asked the man to tell me what he wanted. His answer was, "Take Christ into yourself." At that point, I found myself, still only semi-conscious, drawing my hands over my body from my pelvic area up to my chest, repeating the motion for a very long time until I fell soundly asleep.
In the morning, I felt surprised and a little overwhelmed by the experience. I commented to others during the morning about the windy, stormy night, and was greeted by quizzical looks and comments about the stillness of the night.
The next day, I drew the profile of a woman looking up with the appearance of "knowing" or "understanding." A few weeks later, I drew another image that seemed to be connected to the first two. It was a figure in a cape with hands reaching out in front that had yellow bursts of energy coming from them. The three images became for me "spirit guides" who represent pain, wisdom, and healing.
Until now, I have only shared this event with a few trusted friends. The experience has kept me on the path of my Christian faith and its roots. Christ's life and teachings are those, for me, that I attempt to example as best I can through my life. I feel that the dream images are gifts to be treasured from a loving creator.
Patricia L. Lietzke works as a multimedia artist with a focus on touch drawing. She has an art studio/gallery called "Leap of Faith," and worships at Community United Methodist Church in Cedarburg, Wisconsin.
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Scrap Pile
Longing for Friendship
by John Sumwalt
"Where you go, I will go; Where you lodge, I will lodge; your people shall be my people, and your God my God."
Ruth 1:16b
Jacquelyn Mitchard wrote in a column about friendship:
I'm not a good friend, and neither are most of my friends, though they're better than me. We all have an all-purpose excuse -- "Life's been absolutely crazy lately." And that's poignantly true. We make it so, but it's true.... They call, and I'm on the run. I call, and they're just heading out the door. Blame the culture? Blame our own exhaustion? Sometimes, I think it's this: My generation believes, still, somehow, that we will live forever, and have time to pick up all the stitches we have dropped. We give lip service to the importance of friendship, but we don't put the coinage of friendship -- which is time -- behind our words. Sometimes I wonder whether people of my generation know what friendship really comprises.
(from a "The Rest of Us" column by Jacquelyn Mitchard, in the Milwaukee Journal-Sentinel, Sept. 17, 2000. To view the entire column, click on http://www.jsonline.com/lifestyle/advice/sep00/mitccol17091600a.asp)
I recognize myself in these remarks. I am so caught up in the business of modern life that I don't have time to nurture the friendships that I cherish. And yet it is what I long for more than anything else.
Jo and I have had two opportunities recently to travel some distance to have a meal and spend time with longtime friends who we see only once or twice a year. In both instances the invitation was their initiative -- and we were reluctant to go because it was too far, we were too busy and too tired -- but we went because we love these people, and we were blessed by laughter, the sharing of memories, and love.
It helped us remember who we are. How could we have ever thought that we didn't have time for that?
Someone wrote, "A friend is someone who knows the song in your heart and can sing it back to you when you have forgotten the words."
Our text today is about friendship and love -- how God blesses us through our friends.
The story begins with an ironic statement. There was a famine in Bethlehem. Bethlehem means "House of Bread." There was no bread in the "House of Bread."
A man named Elimilech goes to live in Moab, a hated people and a hated land, an event comparable to Jews today being forced to go live in an Arab land or Palestinians being forced to live in a Jewish land. One commentator states:
Before we can decide what corresponds to Moab in our lives today, we have to ask, what are the things we think we despise until we are forced to turn to them in times of crisis? Or what do we seek out in desperate times that ends up killing us or making our lives unfruitful? Members of a clan named "Fruitfulness" move to Moab in order to live, but end up dying one after another, leaving no fruit (children) behind them...
(Kathleen A. Robertson Farmer, The New Interpreter's Bible, Abingdon Press, 1981, p. 902)
Moab did not prove to be a blessing for Elimilech, his wife Naomi, or his two sons. First Elimilech died, then his sons took Moabite wives, Orpah and Ruth, who were still childless ten years later when both sons died. Naomi, left with these Moabite daughters-in-law, decides to return to Bethlehem and bids the young women to stay with their own people. Orpah stays, but Ruth insists on leaving her own family and her own country and going with her mother-in-law. Many years later, after much hardship, Ruth will marry a kinsman of Naomi -- a nice Jewish man named Boaz -- and they will have a son named Obed who will be the grandfather of King David.
But Ruth doesn't know any of this at the time. She only knows that, somehow, her destiny is entwined with that of her mother-in-law, and that she cannot bear to live without her. She has become more dear to her than her own kin. And so she says to Naomi the words that we all know so well:
Entreat me not to leave thee, or to return from following after thee: for whither thou goest, I will go; and where thou lodgest, I will lodge: thy people shall be my people, and thy God my God. Where thou diest, I will die, and there will I be buried: the Lord do so to me, and more also, if ought but death part thee and me. (Ruth 1:16-17, King James Version)
Did you ever have a friend like that who would go anywhere with you and do anything for you?
The story is told of a World War I soldier who saw his lifelong friend fall in battle. Caught in a trench with continuous gunfire whizzing over his head, the soldier asked his lieutenant if he might go out into the "No Man's Land" between the trenches to bring his fallen comrade back.
"You can go," said the lieutenant, "but I don't think it will be worth it. Your friend is probably dead, and you may throw your own life away." The lieutenant's words didn't matter, and the soldier went anyway.
Miraculously, he managed to reach his friend, hoist him onto his shoulder, and bring him back to their company's trench. As the two of them tumbled in together to the bottom of the trench, the officer checked the wounded soldier, then looked kindly at his friend. "I told you it wouldn't be worth it," he said. "Your friend is dead, and you are mortally wounded."
"It was worth it, though, sir," the soldier said.
"How do you mean, 'worth it'?" responded the lieutenant. "Your friend is dead!"
"Yes sir," the private answered. "But it was worth it because when I got to him he was still alive, and I had the satisfaction of hearing him say, 'Jim, I knew you'd come.' "
Oh, how we long for a friend like that, who will love us and stay with us no matter what comes. It is the refrain of a familiar song we sang a few moments ago:
"And he walks with me, and he talks with me, and he tells me I am his own; and the joy we share as we tarry there, none other has ever known."
(from "In the Garden," words and music by C. Austin Miles)
Jesus is the friend we long for, the friend who knows the song in our hearts and sings it back to us when we've forgotten the words.
Excerpts from a sermon preached at Wauwatosa Avenue United Methodist Church in Milwaukee, Wisconsin, November 5, 2000.
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Communion Liturgy For November 2
by Thom M. Shuman
Call to Worship
Leader: You are welcome in this place,
where God meets us in love. People: Why are we here?
We are here to love God
with all that we have and all that we are.Leader: You are welcome in this place,
where God loves us as children. People: Why are we here?
We are here to love ourselves
as deeply as God loves us.Leader: You are welcome in this place,
where God serves us at the Table of love and grace. People: Why are we here?
We are here to be sent forth to love others
as deeply as we love God and ourselves.Prayer of the Day (and our Lord's Prayer)
Living God:
when there is a famine in our souls,
you feed us with grace;
when there are pockets of poverty in our love for others,
you bless us with generosity;
when we are empty and alone,
you move into our hearts. Jesus, bearer of the good things that have come to us:
you bow down to lift us from our despair;
you embrace over those who haven't a friend in the world;
you open the eyes of those struck blind by arrogance and ambition. Eternal Spirit:
you walk with us wherever we go;
you take the fragments of our lives and reshape us into holy people;
you are with us, and not even death can separate us. God in Community, Holy in One,
hear us as we pray the prayer Jesus taught us to say together: Our Father . . .
Call to Reconciliation
The world teaches us many ways to love, but all are based on selfish desires and needs.
God teaches us how to love: completely, uniquely, unconditionally.
Let us confess our difficulty in loving as God teaches us, as we pray, saying . . .
(Unison) Prayer of Confession
We are reluctant to confess, Holy God, how hard it is to love as you command. It is easy to love you with all that we are, except when you ask us to love our neighbor with all that we have. We find it hard to love our neighbor when it is linked to the way we love ourselves. And it is difficult to love anyone -- even you -- more than we love ourselves.
Forgive us, Eternal Love. As you took a risk in creating us, help us to take risks to love others, to love ourselves genuinely, and to love you as completely as you love us in Jesus Christ, our Lord and Savior.
Assurance of Pardon
Leader: In God's Kingdom, all are loved for who they are, not what they do;
in God's Kingdom, all are forgiven for what they do, and don't;
in God's Kingdom, all are welcome and fed by God's grace and hope. People: Forgive, loved, sent forth -- we are not far from God's Kingdom!
Thanks be to God. Amen.Great Prayer of Thanksgiving
Leader: My beloved sisters and brothers, may the Lord be with you,
People: and also with you.
Leader: My beloved brothers and sisters, lift up your hearts.
People: Our hearts are lifted high to God.
Leader: My beloved sisters and brothers, let us give thanks to the Lord our God.
People: Thanksgiving is in our hearts, and praise is on our lips.
We will sing praises to you all life long, O Lord our God,
maker of the earth, the heavens, the seas, and all that dwell within them. You made us in your image, that we might reflect your grace;
you breathed the Spirit into us, that we might be your people,
and worship you forever. But blinded by the seductions of the world, we wandered far from your kingdom,
putting our trust in the powers that cannot save us. Despite our turning our backs on you, you have clung to us in grace and love,
determined to be faithful to the covenant you established with us. Therefore, we join our voices,
with the saints of every time and every place,
singing our praises to your heart: Sanctus
We praise you, Holy God,
and bless your Son, Jesus Christ, our Help, our Hope, our Lord. He opened the eyes of the blind,
that we might behold your grace.He loosened the bonds of the captive,
that we might follow in freedom. He watched over strangers,
that we might become brothers and sisters. He lifted up those who had fallen,
that we might walk the streets of the Kingdom. He gave his heart to those ignored by the world,
that the widow and orphan might find their heart's home in you. He endured death's embrace,
that we might be welcomed into eternal life with you.His life, his words, his death, his resurrection
are mysteries we may not understand completely,
but which we proclaim with faith: Memorial Acclamation
As we break the Bread of Life and drink from the Cup of Salvation,
pour out your eternal Spirit upon these gifts and those who will receive them.Despite our unfaithfulness,
we are determined to go with you. Despite our weakness,
we are resolved to worship you. Despite our fears and prejudices,
we are unfaltering in our commitment to justice and hope for others. Through your Son, Jesus Christ, with the Holy Spirit in your holy church,
all honor and glory are yours, Great God our hope,
now and forever. Amen. Thom M. Shuman pastors Greenhills (Presbyterian) Community Church in Cincinnati, Ohio, where (in his own words) he struggles to be faithful to God's calling.
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StoryShare, November 2, 2003, issue.
Copyright 2003 by CSS Publishing Company, Inc., Lima, Ohio.
All rights reserved. Subscribers to the StoryShare service may print and use this material as it was intended in sermons, in worship and classroom settings, in brief devotions, in radio spots, and as newsletter fillers. No additional permission is required from the publisher for such use by subscribers only. Inquiries should be addressed to permissions@csspub.com or to Permissions, CSS Publishing Company, Inc., P.O. Box 4503, Lima, Ohio 45802-4503.
