Romans 12:3-21
3 For fby the grace given to me I say to everyone among you gnot to think of himself more highly than he ought to think, but to think with sober judgment, heach according to ithe measure of faith that God has assigned. 4 For jas in one body we have many members,5 and the members do not all have the same function, 5 so we, kthough many, lare one body in Christ, and individually mmembers one of another. 6 nHaving gifts that differ according to the grace given to us, let us use them: if oprophecy, pin proportion to our faith; 7 if qservice, in our serving; the one who teaches, in his teaching; 8 the one who exhorts, in his exhortation; the one who contributes, in generosity; rthe one who leads,6 with zeal; the one who does acts of mercy, with scheerfulness.
Marks of the True Christian
9 tLet love be genuine. uAbhor what is evil; hold fast to what is good. 10 vLove one another with brotherly affection. wOutdo one another in showing honor. 11 Do not be slothful in zeal, xbe fervent in spirit,7 yserve the Lord. 12 zRejoice in hope, abe patient in tribulation, bbe constant in prayer. 13 cContribute to the needs of the saints and dseek to show hospitality.
14 eBless those who persecute you; bless and do not curse them. 15 fRejoice with those who rejoice, weep with those who weep. 16 gLive in harmony with one another. hDo not be haughty, but associate with the lowly.8 iNever be wise in your own sight. 17 jRepay no one evil for evil, but kgive thought to do what is honorable in the sight of all. 18 If possible, so far as it depends on you, llive peaceably with all. 19 Beloved, mnever avenge yourselves, but leave it9 to the wrath of God, for it is written, n“Vengeance is mine, I will repay, says the Lord.” 20 To the contrary, o“if your enemy is hungry, feed him; if he is thirsty, give him something to drink; for by so doing you will heap burning coals on his head.” 21 Do not be overcome by evil, but overcome evil with good
Nine months ago, on a stormy Friday afternoon in Kenya, I found myself in a circle of African women singing and clapping and worshipping loudly in Swahili. We had just spent an hour together examining Habakkuk 3:17-19. Their attention to myself and the translator was unreal–they were hungry to hear, to listen, to worship. Kind of like tonight, I really had no idea what I was going to say. I remember running across the soccer field to where we were meeting and sort of muttering to God under my breath (You better do something in my mind because I don’t know what I’m going to say to these ladies). I had no right to speak to these women. I am a white person from America. I don’t know what it is like to watch my family die of AIDS. I don’t know what it is like to work hard in the maize field, only to see my food for the next year destroyed by locusts. I don’t know what it is like to watch my cow become ill and know that means no milk. But the author of Habakkuk did. On the screen will be the ESV version, but what I’m going to read to you is the Unauthorized Made Up by Shelly African Version?
17 Though the sugar cane should dry up,
nor mango be in the trees,
though the work of your labor
and the fields of maize yield no food,
the chickens lay no eggs
and the cattle’s milk dries up,
18 eyet I will rejoice in the Lord;
fI will take joy in the God of my salvation.
19 God, the Lord, is my strength;
ghe makes my feet like the gazelle’s;
he makes me htread on my ihigh places.
You see what it says in verse 18, yes? It says “I will rejoice in the Lord; I will take JOY in the God of my salvation”. These women I was surrounded by in that circle, the look in their eyes was one of pure joy, in the midst of loss, of fear, of incredibly difficult life circumstances, they were thankful, they were rejoicing, they were experiencing joy not as happiness, because joy is not happiness, but rather the un-manufacturable by-product of a realization of who they were in the God of Their salvation. I, too, was overcome by unexplainable joy that afternoon, as it thundered and poured and as the woman sang louder and louder so as to drown out the sound of the rain on the tin roof, my heart and my eyes were full of joy.
But what I didn’t know at that time, was that 7,400 miles away, my family’s world was getting ready to be thrown into complete and utter dismay, and that I and my children were about to enter into a fight to find some way to make sense of a nightmare, find some way to stand fast, find some way to push forward with school and work and the very “normalness” of living life in a very “Un-normal” vortex, and that we would be entering a literal fight for the very joy I was exhorting these woman–these woman whom I had no right to heard by!—that back here in VA that very same joy, along with peace and sanity, would become elusive and fleeting, and that verse 18 and 19—that I would rejoice in the Lord, that I would take joy in the God of my salvation, that I would not just experience but believe in my mind and in my soul that God, the Lord is my strength—that all of that would become a literal fight for survival.
Oh, how I wish I had the time to say so much more to you tonight. We don’t have 2 hours, but if I did, I would tell you that I have not always believed that there was a God. I would tell you that I am different. Many of you do not know, that a year and a half ago, on Easter Sunday, in a small gathering here at the church, I was baptized as a way to say to God, and the few that were here, that after years of unbelief and cynicism, I was able to look at the logical evidence of the reality of Jesus and his death and resurrection, and was able to say the words that Thomas says in John 20 “My Lord and My God”. With Joy. I remember walking into the sanctuary that night, hearing the song Healing Rain being played on the piano. The chorus of that song shouts over and over again “I’m not afraid, I’m not afraid!” And I remember thinking, “Ok, I’m not afraid.” And in Kenya, as we worshipped God, and the rain beat down on that tin roof, I also thought “Healing Rain, I’m not afraid, these Kenyan woman are not afraid.” But even that Easter night, I obviously did not know the fight I was about to enter; the fight that my family was about to enter into just 5 short months later.
I share those thoughts with you, not in order to dwell on the negative, on the nightmare, but rather to set the scene for you in hopes that you will understand how God has used my church family at Seaford to help my children and me to experience glimpses of joy, just enough, in times of huge fear and despair, so as to be able to stand fast, though so often I’ve felt as if I was sinking, as if my children were sinking. It’s exactly what Aaron has shared with you tonight, in Romans 12.
I think it is ok to acknowledge here, that church is full of humans, and sometimes we don’t get it right. Sometimes we argue about the silliest things as a church family, just like we do in a real family. Sometimes we are mean to each other, we say things we don’t mean, we gossip. Sometimes, our skin is so thin and we are so quick to get angry, to get offended. Sometimes we get stubborn and self-centered, like we do in a real family. And sometimes, when tragedy strikes, when a nightmare ensues, sometimes, like a real family, we fall apart.
My church family, you have not done this. There are not words enough, to express my gratitude to you. I am grateful for you, I love each and every one of you, and I am proud of you. You have been my family. And, you have been each other’s family as well, through this past year. When I didn’t know where to go last fall, you told me to come home, you welcomed me home, with love and open arms. My children, my beloved children who were bewildered and experiencing so much rapid change and loss, you gathered them in when we returned to the area, as if they belonged—and you gave them a huge sense of safety, of normalcy. You gave us a home, a place where the 5 of us could hide out together, grow closer together. You have embodied the verses of Romans 12. You have served us—each and every time I have come home from substitute teaching or difficult meetings to find a bag of groceries, a box of muffins, a meal, I have been overwhelmed by your love. You have given of yourselves in generosity and self-lessness. I don’t know if you ever driven by here and see my smalls outside riding their bikes around and around, they are doing so because of your kindness and generosity. You have coached them in Upward, you have taught them in Kid’s Praise and Sunday School, you have hugged them and loved them and told them you are proud of them. And I am grateful. Our ministerial staff has led this church to focus on Christ, to focus on our God and our Jesus. They have taught us scriptural truths, pulling us back to Christ through sharing their own very real scripture work, each Wednesday and Sunday. They have prayed. Hard. For each of you. For my family. For Jack. And I am grateful And my church family, please hear this: You have much to be proud of in your teenagers and their leaders. Bryan and Janet, TJ, Dustin, other helpers, parents, and the teens themselves—I am proud of you. You have pushed forward. You have focused on what is important. You have focused on Christ and his love for you and His command to love each other. And you have loved my kids. You have created normalcy for them. For Keli. For Tim.
One of the difficult aspects of this, has been finding myself in completely unfamiliar territory, in terms of relating to a church. All of a sudden, all I’d ever known about the structure of a church, not scripturally but culturally, all I’ve ever known as it relates to my life, had been turned updside down. I have asked myself over and over, What do I do now? Where do I fit? Yet each week, you welcome me back into this family with open arms. You tell me that you do not want us to move. You tell me that you are happy to see me, see my children. You teach me. You worship alongside me. You give me space and time alone. You encourage me. You hug me. You share with me your own personal hell and nightmares that you are experiencing even right now. Because you know what? That is what family is. And like the verses in 12:9-15, your love has been genuine, you have held fast to what is good. You have loved one another with brotherly affection. You have not been slothful in zeal but have been fervent in spirit. You have taught me to rejoice in hope, be patient in tribulation, and when I’ve been unable to be constant in prayer, you have been constant for my family. You have rejoiced with me when I have rejoiced, and you have wept with me when I have wept. And, for the first time in my life, I am experiencing that through Seaford Baptist Church in ways I never knew were possible. I am grateful. I love each of you.
I am the farthest thing from a cheesy, sentimental person. Hallmark commercials crack me up, and I think I’d rather have all my hair pulled out then sit and watch a Lifetime movie. But I have something to show you. I bought a pair of tennis shoes last fall (that obviously either I’m not using or you guys are feeding me too well) and they came in this Lance Armstrong Shoebox that says “LiveStrong” on it. Now, I don’t know much about Armstrong at all, except he rides bikes for the Post Office. Or did. Or something like that. Sports are not my thing and I throw like a girl. But I like the color yellow, so that’s why I bought them. The box had been sitting in my dining room, and as I received cards and letters from you, I started putting them in this box. If you know much about me, you’d realize that is not like me. But I was clinging to the words you were sending me. There have been many sleepless nights, for many reasons. I often fall asleep with several books in my bed, with a highlighter or two, with my stuffed Grover and elephant, but there have been several nights when I’ve fallen asleep with this box in my bed because I’ve been awake, reading your words of encouragement, your prayers when I’ve not had words for God myself, when I’ve not been able to say anything to God, I’ve fallen asleep with this box in my bed, and have gotten up the next day to start all over again. I have also saved your emails, saved your Facebook messages. I am grateful.
I know this has gone long, and I apologize. There is so much I’d like to say. But please allow me to close with this. Thank you my family. And I know that I have no right, no right at all to challenge you, but please allow me to say you must fight for joy, as individuals, as a church body. And I need you to continue to pray for me, for my children. Yes, pray for a job, for someplace to move to, but most importantly that we will fight for joy. And for peace. 1 Thessalonaians 3:8-13 is a hugely important passage to me. I need this to be truth for me, and I need it to be truth for you, my family:
“For now we live, if you are standing fast in the Lord. For what Thanksgiving can we return to God for you, for all the joy that we feel for your sake before our God, as we pray most earnestly night and day that we may see you face to face and supply what is lacking in your faith? Now may our God and Father himself, and our Lord Jesus, direct our way to you, and may the Lord make you increase and abound in love for one another and for all, as we do for you, so that he may establish your hearts blameless in holiness before our God and Father, at the coming of our Lord Jesus, with all his saints.
