A lot of folks feel sad this week … with the death of three celebrities … Ed McMahon, Farrah Fawcett and Michael Jackson … there’s a public for sadness for their fans, and a deep sadness for their families and friends.
When was the last time you felt sad?
Sadness is very much a part of the human condition.
Sadness is found on almost every page of the Bible.
God feels sadness …
And we’re created in God’s image …
So we feel sadness, too.
And, I hope, by the time I finish this message, we’ll know that it’s okay to be sad. More than okay. It’s important that we embrace this part of life!
We begin with our story today …
King Saul is dead …
Jonathan the beloved son is dead …
Defeated at the hands of the Philistines …
Who now will be king?
Word is brought to David.
A mercenary brings Saul’s crown and armlet to David … and tells the tale of how Saul died.
When others might have expected David to rub his hands and smile with relief, David is anything but happy.
While the mercenary expected a reward, he’s summarily executed.
This is a dirty business, and David wants nothing to do with it.
David tears his clothing in a sign of grief.
He weeps and he fasts for the day.
There is no joy for David in the death of Saul.
No dancing over the grave of his enemy.
No glee in David’s camp.
David loved Saul, and utterly respected Saul’s position as the king of Israel.
Though Saul tried to kill David several times, David refrained from retaliation.
Twice, David had Saul in his sights.
Twice, God delivered Saul into David’s hands.
Twice, David could have killed Saul.
Twice, David refused.
This move was up to God.
Somewhere, somehow,
At a point in time determined by God, and not by David.
It is said in the Scriptures that David is a man after God’s own heart [1 Samuel 13:14; Acts 13:22]!
David loves deeply.
David practices loyalty.
Deep opens his heart to sadness.
David is a man after God’s own heart!
Upon hearing the news …
David is cast down with grief.
David pens a poem, a eulogy … forgetting the broken parts of Saul’s life – remembering only the best, the highest of Israel’s once and former king.
David’s heart is heavy.
Heavy with
Despair.
Sorrow.
Sadness.
Sadness is found on nearly page of the Bible.
God is filled with sadness when humankind chooses the dark road [Genesis 6:6].
Abraham and Sarah lament when they have no children.
Jacob and Esau fight, and their father is heartbroken.
Moses is saddened by the plight of his people in Egypt.
And throughout the long journey, Moses would feel sadness time and again as God’s people prove unworthy of their newfound freedom …
The prophets were filled with sorrow … read Jeremiah, Isaiah and Amos – their hearts are crushed; their spirits brought low – their tears flow profusely for what might have been, but for the loss of vision and a cowardly heart, God’s people fail the mission.
The Psalmist writes again and again about defeat and setback, disappointment and failure.
Jesus comes over the brow of the hill and there before him spreads the City of David, Jerusalem the Golden, and Jesus weeps for the city … Jesus knows what’s coming … Jesus knows he cannot stop it … for the ways of the powerful are powerful indeed, and they’re not about to listen to an itinerant preacher from Galilee.
When confronted with hardness of heart in his own people, Jesus is grieved [Mark 3:5].
Jesus says to the disciples, Now my soul is troubled [John 12:27].
When Jesus arrives in Bethany, and sees Mary’s sorrow for her brother’s death, Jesus weeps.
In the Garden of Gethsemane, as the night closes in upon him, Jesus says, I am deeply grieved [Mark 14:34].
What did Isaiah say of him?
He was despised and rejected by others;
a man of suffering and acquainted with infirmity;
and as one from whom others hide their faces
he was despised, and we held him of no account.
Surely he has borne our infirmities
and carried our diseases;
yet we accounted him stricken,
struck down by God, and afflicted.
But he was wounded for our transgressions,
crushed for our iniquities;
upon him was the punishment that made us whole,
and by his bruises we are healed [Isaiah 53:3-5].
The man of sorrows …
Who weeps for the world …
Because he cares deeply.
And loves profoundly.
To care and to love …
We open our lives to sadness.
A child loves a dog,
And they grow up together,
But faster is the clock for the dog.
Even as the child is still young,
The dog grows old.
It’s lush black coat speckled with grey.
It’s eyes droop and the walk slows.
And then a day in time
When the beloved dog lies down,
One last wag of the tail … one final breath … the eyes turn to another world.
The child weeps inconsolably.
And so Mom and Dad.
How we love them,
These marvelous critters of God.
Children learn early on that life,
With all of its joys and pleasures, has
Sadness, too …
And important lesson to learn.
For sadness is a part of our human dignity.
Though we’re not the only species to grieve.
Elephants weep.
Dogs mourn.
A duck stands on the roadside,
Nudging the body of its bloodied mate,
Just killed by a passing car.
To live is to love.
To love is to risk our soul.
To care, is to put ourselves at the mercy of life and death.
To care, is to open the soul to disappointment.
We cannot and we must not bury this part of our life.
Though we Americans give it our best shot.
We are a happy, clappy, sappy people, and sorrow and grief are not our cup of tea.
All of my ministry, I have given people permission to be sad.
Sadness is a part of our journey.
Folks come to me six weeks after the death of a spouse and say to me, “I should be doing better by now. What’s wrong with me?”
My response: “Don’t underestimate the severity of your loss.”
Sadness is not a clinical condition needing therapy or medication.
Sadness is holy.
Sadness is found in God.
Sadness is critical to our humanity.
Some societies recognize an official period of mourning for as long as seven years.
Those of you who’ve lost a child, or a spouse, know the duration of sadness.
It never really goes away, does it?
It recedes in time,
But a smell, a sound, the face of stranger,
And it all comes rushing back …
Our soul is overwhelmed …
There are still more tears to be shed.
It’s okay to be sad. It doesn’t feel very good, but it’s not a bad thing. Sadness is the counterpart of love.
To have loved anything, a blanket, a bike, a bowling ball – when it’s gone, something of our own soul goes with it.
To deny sadness is to rip huge chapters out of the book of our life.
To repress sadness damages our soul.
Remember, Jesus was a man of sorrows.
And he’s the Son of God.
And David was a man of sadness.
And he was a man after God’s own heart.
All great people are people of sadness.
The folks who change our world …
Who confront and change the way we think …
Who challenge the human condition, and do something about it.
Abraham Lincoln was a man of great sadness, and out of that profound sadness, Lincoln led us through the darkest hour.
Martin Luther King, Jr. was a man of sadness – when he looked at the human condition … the villainy of racism, the awful legacy of lynchings … the denial of basic rights and opportunity … and how both the oppressed and the oppressor suffer.
His namesake, the great Reformer, Martin Luther, was a man of sadness.
A monk teaching other monks with Paul’s letter to the Romans, and when Luther looked through the words of Scripture at the Medieval Church, Luther was overwhelmed with sadness – Luther saw clearly what might have been, and wasn’t … and the terrible price people were paying because the church had failed the very Christ it claimed to love.
William Booth, the founder of the Salvation Army, was a man of sadness when he saw London’s poor and how they and their children suffered.
Gandhi was a man of sadness when he looked at his people in India under the iron fist of British rule.
Mother Teresa was a woman of great sadness when she looked at the dying lying in the gutters of Calcutta, their bodies stacked like cordwood in the morning.
Every missionary I’ve ever known is filled with sadness.
I sometimes wonder if our capacity for sadness is diminished, being the happy, clappy people we are.
We don’t like sadness.
We treat it as a medical condition.
We call it depression.
There is such a thing as depression, but we’re way too afraid of it, and we misdiagnose sadness all the time.
People who are depressives are depressed all the more by the pretended happiness of our culture.
People in grief hide their sorrow from co-workers and friends.
Those of you who’ve lost a spouse know how quickly old friends stop calling, and how rare is the invitation to dinner.
We don’t deal well with grief.
And I wonder … what do we lose when we deny our sorrows?
At what price do we chase the chimera of happiness?
We drug ourselves to be happy and then drug ourselves to sleep.
We drug our children so they can get along in school.
And then we wonder why substance abuse is so high.
At what price do we chase the phantom of happiness?
Religion in America has deteriorated into a feel-good, happy, clappy, therapy session.
Jesus said, I came to set a fire.
We’re turned his fire into a warm feeling.
Preachers preach endlessly about happiness …
How to find it,
How to manage it,
How to keep it,
How to get more of it.
There was a movement some years ago – laughing Christians … well, I like to laugh just like anyone else does, but I wonder – how sincere can the laughter be without the gift of tears?
How real can our joy be, if we turn our backs on sorrow?
How deep can our love go, if we refuse to be sad?
Instead of laughing Christians, it might be good to have weeping Christians … seems that Jesus wept a fair amount … and maybe he’s on to something – something powerful and something soul-cleansing, something godly and something good.
I think of David …
Folks around him might have said, “David, kick up your heels; the wicked witch of the north is dead.”
But no dancing for David.
David was a man after God’s own heart.
David was a man who let the waves of sadness wash over him.
There is much to grieve in this old world of ours.
And if we have a heart for God, we will be women and men of sorrow – divine sorrow, godly sorrow, the sorrow of a deep compassion and a deep love.
In every dimension of life.
We will not hide our tears:
For the child we can no longer touch,
The spouse we can no longer kiss,
The friend with whom we can no longer play cards.
A man began to weep for a wife who had died 15 years earlier; he said to me, “Pardon me; I didn’t mean to break down.”
And what I said next came from heaven.
I said, “John, you’re not breaking down, you’re breaking open.”
To be sad is to be open.
And maybe we American are afraid of that.
Afraid of being open.
But God would say:
“Fear not.”
“I am a God of many sorrows.”
“My son is a Savior of many sorrows.”
David, a man after God’s own heart knew the travails of sadness.
It’s okay to be sad.
Sad about many things:
I’m often say about the church of Jesus Christ and its failure to really make a difference in this land of ours.
I’m sad about all those Christians who cry and fuss about so-called “family values,” and shout and scream about abortion and homosexuals – I’m sad, because in my eyes, it’s a sham, a cover up, a clever smoke screen, while the real values of our faith – love and compassion, justice and mercy, openness and welcome, are ignored …
I’m saddened by corporate greed and the transfer of wealth from the pockets of the many to the pockets of the few.
I’m sad that war and the rumors of war have fueled our imagination and national character far too long.
I’m sad that we tolerate the suffering of our nation’s children, workplace discrimination and injustice.
I’m sad that 62% of our bankruptcies are caused by medical bills, and 78% of those families have coverage, but the coverage isn’t good enough.
I grieve for things like this.
I grieve for the Presbyterian Church – that after more than 30 years of debate, a good deal of it vicious and mean-spirited, we still can’t open the doors to gays and lesbians.
I am sad that we have lost our voice.
The convicted voice of a Martin Luther or a John Calvin.
The soaring voice of a William Sloan Coffin.
That in place of Christ, we substitute a pale version of life defined by simple prescriptions and easy slogans.
We fixate ourselves on happy music, happy preaching, happy games and happy fellowship, and we put on a happy face.
Are we fiddling while Rome burns?
People of God, servants of Christ,
it’s okay to be sad.
Sad for the sin in our lives.
Sad for the sin of our world.
If we’re not sad about such things,
We have to ask ourselves some serious questions:
What is Christ to us if we’re not moved and saddened by the things that moved and saddened Christ?
Christ said, “Take up your cross and follow me!”
He didn’t say, “Sit back in your easy chair and curl up with a happy pillow.”
Sadness is a vital component of a living, loving faith.
Sadness is our dignity.
Sadness is a partner to love!
And only in sadness, faithful and true, can we find the joy of Christ!
A great man like David … knew when to tear his clothes and weep …
For he was a man after God’s own heart!
Be not afraid of tears.
Blessed are those who mourn, for they shall be comforted!
Amen and Amen!
No comments:
Post a Comment