Last Saturday evening, after we had hosted some friends at our house for dinner, cleaned up, and put the boys to bed, I sat on the couch and pulled out my phone to see what was going on in the world.  The first indication that a major incident had occurred was a pastor friend on Facebook who said, “Well, who needs to completely rewrite their sermon for tomorrow?”  When I opened the News App on my phone, I saw a headline that included the phrase “Unsuccessful Assassination Attempt.”  As I read the still-unfolding story, I – like many of you – was shocked to learn of the near-death of a major party nominee for President.  I was shocked and saddened to learn that others had been killed and wounded in the incident.  And then I asked myself, “Do I need to rewrite any part of my sermon for tomorrow?”

That sermon – some of you might remember – was about the necessity of speaking the truth of our faith in the public square and how this is not an easy thing to do.  I had already planned to ask the question, “Is Jesus against violence?” and then answer that question with an emphatic “Yes,” because I do believe that Jesus is against violence of any kind.  In the end, though, I thought that adding anything specific about the horrific incident at that rally in Pennsylvania on Saturday would not add anything to the sermon.  It was on everyone’s mind, anyway.  So, no, I did not rewrite any part of the sermon.

What was interesting about last Sunday’s service was that, before the Prayers of the People, when the call came for Joys and Concerns, I thought that maybe someone would say, “We need to pray for our country. . .” or “We need to pray for the victims of that shooting in Pennsylvania. . .” or something else linked to the assassination attempt.  I had already planned to say something about the incident as part of the prayer, but I was wondering if a member of the congregation might have a particular perspective or prayer request.  

Instead, the thing that was on everyone’s mind went unspoken.  And this was – and is – okay.  I could sense, in my gut, that our people were feeling a lot of big feelings.  

As you’ll hear in this coming Sunday’s sermon, when the Bible talks about big feelings, the original language implies that big feelings are felt in the gut.  We live in an age of big feelings – some of which are expressed, many of which are repressed.  The past week has been filled with various writers and commentators trying to put these big feelings into words – so many words about the meaning of the incident, the people involved, the two political parties and their candidates who are still at odds (all the while calling for more civility, which may or may not come).

It’s not necessarily my job to help you put all of your feelings into words. Sometimes, it is simply enough to acknowledge that we are feeling them and that they are complicated. My great concern—for all of us—is that there will be days when our big feelings get the better of us, and we don’t know how to handle them all—feelings of exhaustion, despair, rage, fear. . . You name it, we have probably felt it this past week.  

My great joy, however, is that whatever negative feelings we are feeling do not (and should not) have the last word.  God has the last word.  My great joy is found in the hope that the Holy Spirit takes all of these feelings and is still, somehow, at work for good.  May the Spirit make us part of God’s good and loving purpose in the world – even when some of our feelings might not be helpful in this effort.  May the Spirit work through us, on us, and in us as we seek to build a community, nation, and world in which our faith in the One who is the source of all love and all life defines our thoughts, words, actions, and – yes, even our – feelings.

See you in church!

Grace and Peace,

John


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This Week: “Calling All Shepherds: No/True Rest for the Weary”