Sharing the Load

Over the last few weeks, we have been involved in a sermon series that teaches us how to bear the burdens of others. Week one, we focused on the importance of learning peoples names. It is important to know each other by name, and calling them by that name. Imagine how comforting it is to hear someone call your name, and compare that to someone saying, "Hey you." Last week, we talked about the importance of moving past the name stage and learning how to creatively love each other. I shared a powerful story that you may reference on the website, a story that explains the need to put the needs of others above our own.

In the winter of 1998, I took my first trip out of the country. Actually, it was my first trip by plane. Many of you are aware of my friend that is a Pastor in South Korea, his name is Mr. Sang Min Choi. He invited me to preach in his home church, and I accepted. Of course, In had in mind his local church in Abbeville....not his HOME church, in a distant land.

I had never packed for a long trip, and crammed all the stuff I thought I needed into a large suitcase. I did the usual drill of loading the suitcase to capacity, and lying on top of to zip it closed. After much effort, it finally zipped and clicked into place. The day of departure was a only a few anxious winks away.

After landing in Seoul, I wound my way through the Kimpo airport and located the baggage terminal. I grabbed the monster of a suitcase and wandered through the airport and finally caught a glimpse of my friend, Choi. He had failed to inform me that I would need to carry the suitcase for a few miles through the streets of Seoul, as we looked for lunch. I lugged this heavy suitcase, all over Seoul, Korea. My friend is a small guy, but he wanted to assist. He grabbed the green monster, and immediately spoke the universal language of heaviness,"uugh." He gave it his best, carrying my load, and then...we considered the prospect of working together. Wow, sharing the burden was a great idea. The load was much easier to bear, but we had the dilemma of finding a cab that could hold us and my luggage.

Truth of the matter, is that I had all kinds of junk in my suitcase that was non-essential. Stuff that was heavy and weighed me down. I think, actually I know, that on this day, we have too much "junk in our trunk." So this morning, what is loading you down? Is it fear? Doubt? Improper self image? Pride? What is it??

Another heavy question is, "Why are we afraid to share the stuff that is in our suitcase with others?" So, instead of the preacher telling you why...I am asking you...WHY??

Response one- Maybe we think that those people have burdens of their own that are bigger. Maybe they don't need ours.

Response 2-Maybe we are prideful and are afraid to share.

Response 3- Maybe we are not even aware of our deep issues.

Response 4- I think we are afraid.

I agree, I think that all of these are reasons. Ultimately, our inability to share is often rooted in fear and issues with trust. For example, I think Pat is a great guy, but can I trust him with my story. Can I tell my secrets and can I trust him to love me after he knows, and not to leave me naked before the world.

For us to be able to bear the burden of another, as the text in Galatians 6:2-3 tells us to, we must learn to be trustworthy as a keeper of secrets. We must value people as children of God and realize that we all fall down. We all make big mistakes, and we all need grace. We should be trustworthy as a keeper of the dark stories, but also we should be able to tell our stories with others.

response 1- preacher, we have stuff in our trunks that we do not really need. We can take out the junk and fill it up with the stuff that God has for us. Then the load is much lighter.

You're right, for my trip home, I discarded a bunch of stuff I did not need. Then, I bought new luggage with wheels and handles. Kinda makes it easier...with a lighter load and being prepared for the trip.

This week our challenge is to look inward and outward. What is bogging me down? How can I let it loose? Who is worthy to share them with? Can I be trusted to keep the secrets? Can I be a giver of grace...no matter the burden?

Heavy questions...but I never said that it was easy to bear burdens. Do we dare to try?

"SHMILY"

Last week following the sermon, one of our dear parishioners...one of the brothers and sisters in Christ, told Sarah that she wanted to come up front and smack me for her. I guess that possibly there are dangers in sharing too much of your family situations and funny stories. However, I feel strongly that God speaks to us through such stories. Sometimes he yells to us loudly in the whispers of love from a spouse, children or friend. He speaks to us through our pain, as often we do not listen during the times of our lives when all is well. If we listen, we can hear him in laughter, and feel him in our tears.

He speaks to us strongly through his word. As with most other weeks, I attempt to link these two methods of revelation. This morning, join me as we revisit the scripture that we looked at last week. This is part of a 3 week series on "Bearing Burdens."

Galatians 6:2-3
Share each other’s burdens, and in this way obey the law of Christ. If you think you are too important to help someone, you are only fooling yourself. You are not that important.

Last week we learned about the importance of taking the time to learn someones name that we did not know. I hope that we all were able to make that connection with someone new. It is powerful and comfortable to hear someone call our name. It is a vital touch point for connection and relationship building.

I am unsure if you realize this...but often I am pretty dumb when it comes to sensitivity issues. This is particularly manifest with my wife. This week however, I read something that made the light bulb get power. I heard the "ding" and said "Eureka." In other words..."by George, I think He's got it." Care to hear the story? I hope so, because you are getting it anyway.

"Shmily" by Laura Jeanne Allen
My grandparents were married for over half a century. From the time they met each other they played their own special game. The goal of their game was to write the word "shmily" in a surprise place for the other to find. They took turns leaving "shmily" around the house, and as soon as one of them discovered it, it was his or her turn to hide it once more.
They dragged "shmily" with their fingers through the sugar and flour containers to await whoever was preparing the next meal. They smeared it in the dew on the windows overlooking the patio where my grandma always fed us warm, homemade pudding with blue food coloring. "Shmily" was written in the steam on the bathroom mirror, where it would reappear after every hot shower. At one point, my grandmother even unrolled an entire roll of toilet paper to leave "shmily" on the very last sheet.
There was no end to the places "shmily" popped up. Little notes with a hastily scribbled "shmily" were found on dashboards and car seats or taped to steering wheels. The notes were stuffed inside shoes and left under pillows. "Shmily" was written in the dust upon the mantel and traced in the ashes of the fireplace. This mysterious word was as much a part of my grandparents' house as the furniture.
It took me a long time before I fully appreciated my grandparents' game. Skepticism has kept me from believing in true love-one that is pure and enduring. However, I never doubted my grandparents' relationship. They had love down pat. It was more than their flirtatious little games; it was a way of life. Their relationship was based on a devotion and passionate affection that not everyone experiences.
Grandma and Grandpa held hands every chance they could. They stole kisses as they bumped into each other in their tiny kitchen. They finished each other's sentences and shared the daily crossword puzzle and word jumble. My grandma whispered to me about how cute my grandpa was, how handsome an old man he had grown to be. She claimed that she really knew "how to pick 'em." Before every meal they bowed their heads and gave thanks, marveling at their blessings: a wonderful family, good fortune, and each other.
But there was a dark cloud in my grandparents' life: My grandmother had breast cancer. The disease had first appeared ten years earlier. As always, Grandpa was with her every step of the way. He comforted her in their yellow room, painted that way so that she could always be surrounded by sunshine, even when she was too sick to go outside.
Now the cancer was again attacking her body. With the help of a cane and my grandfather's steady hand, she went to church with him every Sunday. But my grandmother grew steadily weaker until, finally, she could not leave the house anymore. For a while, Grandpa would go to church alone, praying to God to watch over his wife. Then one day, what we all dreaded finally happened. Grandma was gone.
"Shmily." It was scrawled in yellow on the pink ribbons of my grandmother's funeral bouquet. As the crowd thinned and the last mourners turned to leave, my aunts, uncles, cousins, and other family members came forward and gathered around Grandma one last time. Grandpa stepped up to my grandmother's casket and, taking a shaky breath, began to sing to her. Through his tears and grief, the song came, a deep and throaty lullaby.
Shaking with my own sorrow, I will never forget that moment. For I knew that, although I couldn't begin to fathom the depth of their love, I had been privileged to witness its unmatched beauty.
S-h-m-i-l-y: See How Much I Love You.
Thank you, Grandma and Grandpa, for letting me see.

Now, this had such a profound impact that Sarah and I have adopted the practice. Instead of SHMILY we are using the #4. In our instance it means...4 keeps. To introduce the idea, I went by SONIC and took Sarah a Route 44 diet coke b the school. Douglas had early dismissal on Friday, and I picked him up. I gave the drink to another teacher, who dropped it by Sarah's room along with a note. She searched the cup, and on the bottom, in red was a #4. Douglas and I went to a movie and I was so excited that I actually "got it right", I understood, I had the "Eureka moment."

This morning we read this story because I think that it is the next step in the process of bearing the burdens of another. Last week, we learned of names....breaking the ice...(sing).."the getting to know you, getting to know all about you" process. Today we are instructed to find creative ways to let each other see how much we love them.

Now this has nothing to do with you all being so good to us. We are showered with love from the congregation often. I am encouraging you to find ways to love...EACH OTHER.

How are we to love creatively? It doesn't have to be expensive. One of the funniest ways that I have been loved creatively is that someone brought a gift by our old spot here on the campground on the day before an important procedure. I was having a colonoscopy, and this dear lady...with my sense of warped humor...brought by a four pack of Charmin. Great stuff!! I had a great laugh and felt great love.

This week, slow down a bit and think...How can I love someone here creatively. Husbands, start with your wives. Wives, you may reciprocate, as well. Then reach out to others in this assembly.

So, now that we know names, and have learned about creative loving...next week we will learn about bearing burdens. This waiting part reminds me of wanting to swim right after a picnic at the lake. Remember...if we jump in too soon, we may cramp up!

Benediction--Lord Jesus, thank you for reminding us of your love. In your word you tell us, in our lives you tell us and we still sometimes forget. Your love is strong, and you still remind us often. Our love for you, and others is weak...help us to be diligent in telling of our love. Help us to be creative, and never grow tired of loving. As your word says, "They will know that we are Christians by our love...one to another." We love you, Lord. Amen

Back to School

Last Thursday was my first day of school in quite a long time. This event transported me back to a time almost forgotten; to a place of recollection of school preparations from days gone by. I recalled having an intense discussion with my mom in the boys department of a local JC Penny. She wanted me to try on a "fabulous" pair of dark green pants. I protested with great vigor, and offered up my best defense. But, the green pants became a staple in the wardrobe cycle of the schoolboy. Other years would bring new requests for clothes, as I became much more fashion savvy. I had to own the original "Air Jordan" tennis shoe by Nike. These shoes were so tremendously ugly, oh but so much in style. I also owned a "Members Only" jacket. In Jr. High, I even strutted around the small halls of T.E. Mabry with a pair of Jordache jeans, and every other day...a pair of Calvin Klein's.

This "Back to School" experience has been quite different. Since I am only taking 7 upper level English courses, I know that my time there is brief , yet filled with purpose. I am here to learn, and begin the alternate certification process for teaching secondary English in South Carolina. With much excitement and timidity, I went a few days early to Coastal Carolina University to scope out the situation. My friend, Jimmy, a recent graduate, gave me the necessary tour of the campus. I found out where to park, and even walked to my classes a few days in advance to prevent being late. I was beginning to feel like this would be a fairly simple adjustment process.

After my first class, I walked to the coffee shoppe. The house of caffeine addiction is housed in the Library. I think this is a great idea. Perhaps, they should put turnstiles at the entrance so that it appears that the Library is actually getting some traffic for academic reasons. Anyway, I made my way to the coffee shoppe and was greeted by a super friendly, customer service oriented barrista, in her early fifties. I had my book bag slung over my shoulder, half cocked...just like the cool students. She looked at me, and after I placed my order asked, " Are you a new professor here." After answering her question, I left...with my head hung low. (Perhaps I just looked intelligent???) (Much Laughter)

My Adolescent literature class was the first of the day, and I entered and scoped out my seat. I did not sit too close to the front, because the last time I was in college, I missed a ton of classes. I wanted to sit near the back so I could blend in. At this juncture, as it was prior to the coffee house deflation experience, I hoped that I actually looked similar to the other students. I found the desk for me. It was a little small, but compared to the Korean Airlines seats...they were VERY ROOMY. After the other students found their way to class (some were late...I assumed that they did not scope out the class location prior), the teacher said that we needed to play a game together. Since we were going to be spending a great deal of time together, we needed to know each other. We were a community, and were working together on a journey of learning to appreciate adolescent literature. So...the game began.

She started with the first person on the opposite side of the room. Person # 1 said her name, then person # 2 said the name of Person # 1 and their name. Person # 3 repeated the process...and so on. I was person number 16 or so, and I am sure that you are curious as to how I performed on my first test? I made 100. I wrote down every ones names and read them back when it was my turn. Now you understand why I needed the coffee!!!

Dr. Osbourne was very profound in her statement about community. If she had been wearing a Genevan gown, she could have been a Presbyterian clergy member, delivering the Sunday address. We too are a community, a people of faith, gathering together today with a common purpose. She got me thinking about the power of being called by name.

Back in the days of the "Air-Jordans" and Jordaches, there was a fabulous sitcom on television. Reruns today always make me laugh, and I have a hunch with this crowd...that you laugh too. The show centered around a bar. The theme song went something like this:

Making your way in the world today
Takes everything you've got;
Taking a break from all your worries
Sure would help a lot.
Wouldn't you like to get away?

Sometimes you want to go
Where everybody knows your name,
And they're always glad you came;
You want to be where you can see,
Our troubles are all the same;
You want to be where everybody knows your name.

Hmmm, sound like a church doesn't it? But the sad part is, often the local bar is much more friendly than the people of faith. Look around...who do you not know? This group of people has a core group of 30 that are here each week, and then another 35 or so that change each week during the off season. During the summer, our attendance is over 100. Imagine... if we knew the needs of each, and could openly share our wounds together?

Now, I see from the fear on your face that you think that we are going to play the name game. The gospel is "good news" and I have some good news for you. Grace will be extended if you, on your own get to know someone new today. Why does this matter? The text for today takes us to the answer:

Galatians 6:3-4
Share each other’s burdens, and in this way obey the law of Christ. If you think you are too important to help someone, you are only fooling yourself. You are not that important.

We are to bear each others burdens. Next week I am going to work more with this passage. But if we do not take the time to know someones name, then it is very unlikely that we will actually care enough to bear their burdens. So, just like in elementary school, we will start with the basics. Today, we will learn new names. We may have to ask again next week, but today...we will try.

Closing hymn

Prior to benediction: I took Sarah with me to school on Friday. I needed to go by the bookstore and pick up a few things. This served two purposes: I wanted all the young girls to know that i was married already and that they should leave me alone, and I wanted Sarah to feel old too. (much laughter)

Names...so important. I am glad that God knows ours, and has them written upon his heart. I am glad that we know his, and that he forgives us...when we confess those failures to him. His Son had a name too..." and at the name of Jesus, every knee will bow, and every tongue will confess, that Jesus Christ is Lord."

Benediction

A Lost Art?

Inspiration comes in many different ways. Often a launching point for a sermon comes from something that I hear, read, or see. Occasionally a thought comes when I am in the shower, first thing in the morning, before other thoughts and ideas crowd into my mind. Sometimes, a great thought by a theologian moves me to explore my beliefs, and leads me to communicate those ideas to the congregation. While on Christmas vacation, I was moved. A happenstance meeting with the great theologian, Ed Floyd, left me a changed man.

From the looks on some of your faces, I see that many of you are unaware of the contributions of Ed Floyd. Let me take a few brief moments to describe this gentleman to you.

Sarah's parents love to watch the birds out of their kitchen windows, while they eat. The "they" here are the birds, and the Bedenbaughs. While they(the birds) eat, they(the Bedenbaughs) watch. Sometimes while they(the birds) eat, they (the birds) also watch them(the Bedenbaughs) eat. I realize that this sounds a bit odd, but the real important part of this story is that when they(the birds) eat, they(the birds) also make messes on the cars parked too close to the feeders. Sarah and I made the mistake of parking too close and we needed to get the van washed. We drove to Greenville to a local car wash. We paid for the service, and went inside the lobby area. Watching for our mini-van to make it's way through the automatic pressure washing system. It was at the conclusion of this washing...that we met Ed Floyd.

Ed Floyd was busy at work, in his office. He was talking a bit with a client, and he caught my eye. Some of you may remember my need of purchasing slip on shoes for the Korea trip one year ago. These shoes were looking terrible. Many years ago, someone gave me a shoeshine kit, and I never really got the hang of it. I am sure that many of you are not surprised in the least by this. I saw Ed Floyd, and rejoiced in my Spirit. You see, Mr. Ed Floyd is a professional shoe shiner.

I climbed up on to the almost throne like chair. I placed each foot on the foot pads and he went to work. I asked him a few questions, but spent most of the time, watching. "How long have you been doing this?", I inquired. Mr. Floyd replied, oh...42 years. I quickly realized that he probably knew what he was doing. He took great care in rolling up my pants legs a bit, and then putting a certain kind of soap on each shoe. He then cleaned them off, and polished and buffed. He then polished and buffed and looked at each a little longer. He cradled each shoe in his hand like a newborn, lovingly admiring his glorious work.

"Those are nice shoes you've got there", he added. "What kind are they?" After my response, he said, "I noticed that they were very soft. "

"Mr. Floyd, have you ever found a pair of shoes that was hopeless? I mean so bad that you could not do anything to save them?" " No, sir I just do to them what I can, and usually that makes it alright." He finished after 45 minutes on my shoes, and said the fee was 6.00. Such care, such concern, so meticulous....what a bargain.

The next day we arrived back at Myrtle Beach, and it was time to go to bed. Sarah said, "I really want to watch the news, it has been 2 weeks since I saw it." Jokingly I said, "Let me summarize it for you: shooting, rape, missing child, car wreck, crooked local politician, natural disaster and 20% chance of rain." She chuckled, agreed, and we watched the news anyway.

This week I received a call from my mom telling me of a friend of mine from High school that has found himself in a bad mess.

Summarize this news story:

12:15 p.m. EST January 3, 2007
CAMPOBELLO, S.C. - Spartanburg County deputies said they believe a domestic dispute led to the shooting death of a Campobello woman on Tuesday night. Investigators said that they believe death is the result of a domestic dispute.
The woman's estranged husband, Larry Brent Horton, has been arrested in the case, investigators said. He faces murder charges.
Deputies said that just before 11 p.m., they received a 911 call about a woman dead inside a home on Underwood road.
When deputies arrived, they found Erica Bell Horton dead and her estranged husband's arm and hands covered in blood.
The couple has two children, ages 2 and 4.

The mess that this beat up world is in makes my shoes look like a piece of cake. Ed Floyd did a great job on my shoes, but he cannot solve all our problems. Jesus is the one that takes great care to work on us, meet us where we are, and never let us go. The problem is we never slow down long enough to get up in the chair and let him do his work.

Is our sin really that bad? Yes, and often we are far too comfortable with them to actually ask for forgiveness. To be honest, if Sarah had not told me that I had to do something about those beat up shoes or throw them out, I would not have done a thing. Just at my time of need...there was Ed Floyd.

What about our Spiritual needs? Can we slow down enough and ask God to identify the stains and beat up places in our lives that keep us from shining? I am reminded of the great passage of contrition found in Psalm 51.

Have mercy upon me, O God, according to thy lovingkindness: according unto the multitude of thy tender mercies blot out my transgressions.
Wash me thoroughly from mine iniquity, and cleanse me from my sin.
For I acknowledge my transgressions: and my sin is ever before me.
Against thee, thee only, have I sinned, and done this evil in thy sight: that thou mightest be justified when thou speakest, and be clear when thou judgest.
Behold, I was shapen in iniquity; and in sin did my mother conceive me.
Behold, thou desirest truth in the inward parts: and in the hidden part thou shalt make me to know wisdom.
Purge me with hyssop, and I shall be clean: wash me, and I shall be whiter than snow.
Make me to hear joy and gladness; that the bones which thou hast broken may rejoice.
Hide thy face from my sins, and blot out all mine iniquities.
Create in me a clean heart, O God; and renew a right spirit within me.
Cast me not away from thy presence; and take not thy holy spirit from me.
Restore unto me the joy of thy salvation; and uphold me with thy free spirit.
Then will I teach transgressors thy ways; and sinners shall be converted unto thee.
Deliver me from bloodguiltiness, O God, thou God of my salvation: and my tongue shall sing aloud of thy righteousness.
O Lord, open thou my lips; and my mouth shall shew forth thy praise.
For thou desirest not sacrifice; else would I give it: thou delightest not in burnt offering.
The sacrifices of God are a broken spirit: a broken and a contrite heart, O God, thou wilt not despise.

This Psalm of confession and lament was penned by David, after his sin with Bathsheeba was exposed by Nathan the prophet.

I am proud of my "like new" shoes. My "beat up life" sure does need some TLC from Christ. Sometimes, it needs some heavy buffing, too. "God, is there ever a life that you can't do anything with? When your children come to you and ask for you to work on them, are they ever beyond repair?" The good news of the Gospel is this...His reply is..."No, I just do what I can, and that always makes it alright." He did all he could with the death of Christ, he equips us with the Spirit that exposes our sins if we just listen. Crawl up in that chair...let the Master get to work.