Earlier this year I bought some jazz music for saxophone and amongst the various standards, was a song I didn’t know, God Bless the Child. I was interested in the song, a gentle lilting melody that is strong and pushes forward. I listened to the original version by Billie Holiday and read through the lyrics.
I sat and listened as a fellow told his story. It was messy and complex and somewhat outrageous. It was also filled with desperate yearning and pathos. This man had grown up in a fairly tough context, time and place. Life pushed people and violence within and beyond the home a common occurrence.
Sometimes life wears us down, its frenetic activity, its demands and expectations or the list of things to do. Sometimes we are drained by the emotional experiences of life where we are drawn down into deep and hard places or feel the overwhelming pain of a world spinning out of control through wars and conflicts, violence, and abuse. We are worn down
A story I’ve read many times and one that I re-read in the light of current tensions and conflicts, and discussions around peace in the Middle East: Five Jewish students, two from New York, travelled Hebron to visit the Cave of the Patriarchs, revered by the Abrahamic faiths as the resting place of Abraham
There’s an old, old story. It comes in various forms and takes different directions, but the theme is familiar. A rich, powerful man (usually a male but not always) who has guile, ambition, drive and thinks big – for himself and those he wants to impress – suffers something that causes his life and ambition to be threatened.
I remember sitting with a man, some years ago. He was someone who had been recommended for me to meet with as I wanted to hear, more deeply, stories of people who had served in wars and how they experienced ANZAC Day. We sat over a cup of tea, and he recounted some stories as he was able.
A woman came into the soup kitchen one day. She was 'colourfully' dressed in odd, mismatched clothes, carrying other bags of precious belongings. She was suspicious of everyone and everything, with eyes constantly moving, aware of everything around her.
I stood before a mountain lake as the sun set. The sun disappeared behind the mountain range in a beautiful display of colour, blue fading to black, gold through tangerine and orange to pink and red. It was stunning and spellbinding.
Recently Susan and I visited New Zealand and one of the places we enjoyed was the Sky Tower in Auckland. It is a 328 metre communications tower that offers a tourist experience of restaurant, café and observation decks high in the sky – a 360 degree view of the city, the harbour and surrounding region.
Years ago, in my late teens, I was invited to a young adult weekend away by the group from the local church where I was connected. I hadn’t been part of the senior youth/young adults group because of other things, like playing basketball on Friday nights.
In the sweltering heat of a Washington DC summer in 1963, a quarter of a million people gathered in the capitol extending back from the Lincoln Memorial, having marched in support of Civil Rights. Several speakers regaled the masses. As the final speaker prepared to move to the podium, the television networks switched to live coverage and Mahalia Jackson sang, ‘I’ve been ‘buked and I’ve been scorned…’ Anticipation built as Rev Dr Martin Luther King stood before the large crowd, having prepared scrupulously for this, his most important speech to date. He and his trusted aides spent the night working and reworking the text, as they sought to wend a course between the difficult obstacles of policy and reactive voices to unite people solidly behind a just cause. His words were thoroughly prepared, and he began, recalling Lincoln’s great Gettysburg Address, declaring the slaves of the south, free. His words moved between poetry and stiff legalese. The prepared speech was good but not great. He came to a point and realised his next words were lame; he began to improvise and those around his realised this. As he negotiated his way, Mahalia called out, ‘Tell ‘em about the dream, Martin.’ It was a dream he had shared as he toured churches across the US, a dream, a vision of a brighter future where all lived in harmony. He faced the cameras and spoke of his dream, his vision, the vision that had wrapped itself around his being, filled him with passionate hope and drove him onwards, a vision where his children and all children would not be judged by the colour of their skin but by the quality of their character, and be able to share food at the same table. I heard another story of lost dreams or visions. A couple who went to the theatre. They were watching a performance of The Man From La Mancha. During the performance, the man was distracted by the woman next to him. She was obviously nudging her husband and in hushed tones telling him to be quiet: ‘Shh. You’re embarrassing me. Stop it…’ The man surreptitiously glanced sideways. He saw an older man, well dressed and upper-middle class respectability and appearance. He was sobbing uncontrollably, and his wife was trying to quieten him. When the first man looked back up to the stage it was immediately obvious why this other man was sobbing. The figure of Don Quixote was singing, ‘To Dream the Impossible Dream.’ He was singing about beating the unbeatable foe and striving with courage to go where the brave dare not go. He was singing about reaching for the unreachable star and the man was sobbing because somewhere along the way he had lost is dreams, his visions. We all need a dream, a vision for life, something to give us direction, purpose and energy. We need a vision to drive us forward as we strive to become who we can be and make a difference. A vision captivates us and gives meaning to what we do. Proverbs 29 reminds us that without a vision, the people perish. Martin Luther King gave us a dream that day, a vision that captivated him and many others, a vision of justice and life for all. Mother Teresa, Nelson Mandella and many others have given us vision, dreams and purpose that revolve around loving each other, seeking peace, equality and justice. When we hear these great voices, we listen. They lift our minds, our being, our hopes and expectations. We are captivated by a vision of what can be. It motivates us to create a beautiful world with hope and life. All visions begin with the person being captured, held in a passionate moment of clarity and giving themselves into the energy and life of the vision – of letting go of control and entering the flow of visionary life and movement. The New Testament story of Saul’s conversion speaks of a vision, a blinding light and a voice, that brings him to his knees, vulnerable and helpless, blinded and dependent. Saul is transformed, his legalistic belief system blown open and he becomes Paul, the Apostle to the Gentile world of the 1st century. Paul is held by this vision, and it becomes his calling. It drives his life and changes everything. He lets go of everything he was and the absolute control he demanded over people and beliefs of ‘right and wrong.’ He rides the waves of vision and dream, a passionate living in the way of God and the life of the Spirit. He gives everything to share the love and freedom he has experienced in Christ, with the world. In this week’s reading (Acts 16:9-16) Paul is travelling across Asia (modern day Turkey) and his way ‘feels directed’ in a straight line. Every time he looks to turn left or right, he is redirected back on the forward journey, teaching, preaching, sharing hope with those he meets. Finally, he hits the coast of the Aegean Sea in the city of Troas (slightly south of modern-day Gallipoli). Before him is water. He prepares to journey south, north or back inland but is caught by a dream in the night that changes everything – again! In the dream a man cries out for him to come to Macedonia and help them out! Macedonia is ‘out there,’ across the water – 2 days by boat. Paul, a man of dreams and visions, captivated by the Spirit’s call and the Reflection Notes – 25/5/25 6 th Sunday of Easter – Geoff Stevenson mission of God, listens to this latest dream, and enlists a boat to take them across the waters. He arrives on the second day and travels inland to Neapolis and onto Philippi, the capital. On the Sabbath day, he went to where he understood Jewish people would gather to worship and looked for ‘the man’. There were no men, only a group of women, and Paul spoke to them of his vision, his life, his hope, his faith and the love that seized him in Christ. One of the women, Lydia was moved and responded, seeking to be baptised by Paul. She and her household were baptised, and she invited Paul to come and stay – if he found her faithful (worthy of being seen with Paul and offering hospitality). Paul and his group readily went and stayed in Lydia’s home. This was the beginning of the church in Philippi. It began as a vision and the faithful, courageous response by Paul. There was a vision calling him to come and this vision reflected the deep yearning of people, especially Lydia, in Philippi. Life and hope in Christ came to the city. I find this simple story deeply challenging and hopeful. Paul travelled and trusted. When he dreamed of the man in Macedonia, he had the courage and passion to follow. He wasn’t afraid of getting it wrong – he’d turn around and try again, listen harder, more carefully for the voice of love. What does it mean for you and me as we travel along life’s highway, or the low roads of struggle? What dreams do we hold and how do we allow them to find expression and life? Do we have the courage and hope that Paul has, to listen to the Spirit’s wisdom and follow into unknown, strange places? Will we live into the vision of Jesus and love of God that invites us to live life in love, hope, justice and peace – and faith? Hear the gentle voice of love that will affirm and guide you. Walk in the way of love, the way of Jesus.
A little boy sat in a doctor’s surgery whilst the Doctor tried to explain that they needed to take some of his blood – or marrow – to save the life of his sister. He had recovered from a serious blood disease that had threatened his life and now his sister was in dire need of his blood to save her life. The boy was quiet and subdued, he looked anxious and unsure, a bit pale at the request. Finally in a soft voice he replied, ‘Okay doctor you can take my blood to save my sister.’ The procedures happened and all went well. The doctor went to find and report to the family that all had gone well, and a very positive outcome was expected. He saw the boy sitting alone, head down and very quiet. The doctor went up and began to chat with him, reassuring him that his sister would be okay… After a short silence, the boy looked up with frightened eyes and asked, ‘So doctor, when do I die?’ It was then the doctor realised the little boy thought that in giving his blood for his sister, he was giving his life. Such is the generous sacrifice of love! I’m not sure the boy was conscious of the profound shape of his decision, even if grounded in a misunderstanding. He acted for his sister’s well-being even though he believed he was going to die. Such is love. When love, as the theme of so many songs, poems, plays, movies, stories etc, is portrayed in forms that range from the sublime to the ridiculous, it often becomes lost in sentimentality, mushy feelings and simplistic notions. Some of this is nice and feels good but is it love that is sustaining and real? When I celebrate weddings, the question I ask is ‘Will you love each other…?’ This invites the couple to reflect on a commitment to love through the good times, when everything feels lovely and is going well, when the nice feelings flow, it is easy to ‘feel’ love. What happens when everything falls apart, when there are tensions and challenges, when you disagree…? Love is a commitment of the will to act for the well-being and flourishing of another, says Scott Peck. It may be sacrificial, generous and self-giving with nothing in return. This week Jesus invites his disciples to love one another as they have been loved by him (John 13:31-35). He speaks of this as a new commandment – to love as they have been loved. There are various commandments that existed – Love God with your whole heart, soul and strength. Love your neighbour as yourself. Love the stranger, the sojourner in your land… This one, however invites the disciples to love as they have been loved, as they have experienced love in him. I pondered this idea, of what the disciples experienced. What was their experience of love? What did they see, hear, experience and how did these experiences transform them, change their perspective, give them a new and different story? I pondered how this may have been for them in that particular moment, a poignant and critical moment in Jesus’ life as he approached his death. In John’s story there are several chapters that surround his death, as he gathers with the disciples, washes their feet and models servanthood. They shared the Passover meal and remembered, and celebrated, the story of their predecessors and God’s grace in liberation and salvation. He prayed for them and all people who would hear and follow and be drawn into this new way. He prayed that they would be one, as he and God are one. He prayed for their mission of reconciliation and healing in the world, the continuation of his mission. And he told them to love, as they had been loved. As I pondered, one night, I imagined those who looked into this face of love in other poignant and critical moments of life. A woman caught in the act of adultery (where was the man???) and confronting a group of male leaders who wanted to stone her as the law seemed to imply. Jesus invited them to go ahead but only after the one without sin in their own lives threw the first stone. He doodled in the dirt and then looked up to see the woman standing alone. He offered her the forgiveness and peace of God and sent her off to live in a new way – he loved her and gave her life in the deepest ways. What love did she experience and recognise in his eyes? What love did the disciples see in this or in the woman who suffered a menstrual bleed for 12 years? She visited various physicians, but they only took her money and did nothing for her – she was left broke and alone. She was alienated from community and life, desperate for help that no-one would give her. She saw him and believed that all she needed was to touch the hem of his cloak and all would be well. She did and was, but he felt the connection and asked who touched him. In the midst of the jostling crowd, he asked, and she came forward scared and unsure. But he loved her – ‘Daughter! Your faith has made you well. Go in peace!’ She was named a beloved child of God in that moment – and loved. What did she feel? What did she see in those eyes of love? What did the many who experienced Jesus see, feel, experience in the love that flowed through acceptance, liberation, forgiveness, healing and grace? What did the disciples experience through their own transformation, their own experience of grace and love? What did they see in the face of the one who loved in the name of Love itself? How had their own lives changed through the ministry of Jesus and how had they experienced such transformative, self-giving, generous love? What did this love look like? The urging commandment is more prescient and profound in the context of Jesus’ own life at that moment – his impending death. As he speaks through this extended passage, promising hope beyond death, a place in God’s house and union with God through his own life and death. He pleas for unity in their diversity and that these followers and all who hear and respond will be drawn into a unity that reflects this Triune God of relationship and inclusive love. Jesus will give his life in the name of love and for the sake of love, justice, hope and peace for the world. He will stand against those powers of the world who are violent, oppressive, exclusive and judgemental. He will surrender into the way of sacrificial love for the sake of all and through death find new life and liberation – a story of cruciform shape that urges death and resurrection in life and spirit. He gives for the sake of others and do so in love. When he urges them to love as he has loved them, it is profoundly challenging, a high calling. It is a profound call to surrender into love and offer self for the sake of others and their flourishing regardless of what it might mean for us. This is the shape of love, surrendering, transforming, liberating and the hope for our world!