This post is a sermon I preached at Community United Methodist Church of Wayland, Massachusetts in the summer of 2001.
By viewing things historically, we are forced to think in terms of years and decades and centuries rather than individual days.
[Note: The following post was included as a Lenten reflection for Edwards Church, UCC’s daily reflections on “Sacred Conversations” in 2015.]
[Note: The following post was included as a Lenten reflection for Edwards Church, UCC’s daily reflections on “Sacred Conversations” in 2015, adapted from my thoughts in my post entitled In the Face of So Much Sadness from March 2014.]
Ten years have passed this week since my last grandparent died, my mother’s mother. I never had a chance to know the other three very well. Grandma was all I had. In some ways, back in 2004 and earlier, I guess I’d always imagined she’d be around.
Yesterday, I was honored to play the funeral of a long-standing member of our church. I hadn’t seen him a lot in recent years, but hold his wife as one of my biggest supporters and love having light conversation with her nearly every week. It was an honor to be asked. My position as choir director does not involve regularly accompanying services, and as such, I had never played a funeral before.
This article appeared in the Fall 2014 issue of Worship, Music & Ministry, the journal of the United Church of Christ Musicians Association. It was my first published article.
Introduction
Staff working in smaller churches must keep themselves from the temptation of thinking that certain projects are not possible, due to limited financial or human resources. Additionally, staff who must work full-time elsewhere in order to live their passion at a part-time church job may sometimes feel like one more project may be just enough to upset proper work-life balance.
I learned recently about the death of one of my classmates from college. Chris’ was a combination of talents like I’d never seen, which I may never see again. I imagine there are dozens of blog posts and Facebook statuses being written this month that will try to make heads or tails of this strange occurrence (someone dying naturally before his fortieth birthday), and which will regret the musical world’s loss. I hope these writings will help their authors to grieve and come to terms with the situation.
It’s been an unusual week for me. I hesitate to use words that come easily like “terrible” or “worst ever” because I know that there are people with whom I’m quite close, even, who have equally challenging weeks on an all-to-frequent basis. I do have it in perspective, but I still can recognize the fact that there has been more stress than I am accustomed to, or desire.
Yesterday marked the end of my fifth year as choir director at Edwards Church, UCC in Framingham, Massachusetts. This means that in less than six years, I have made a transition from never having heard of this place to not imagining life without it.
This post is the working copy of a sermon I gave at Edwards Church, UCC in Framingham, MA on May 18, 2014. The live version deviates a bit, in that I was not reading from notes.
“Be still, and know that I am God.”
For me, the most powerful verse in the Bible. Is it because I find it to be my slogan, a mantra that helps keep me “chill”? No, I believe it has stuck in my head all these years, because I know that it’s what I need to hear.