A Plug for the MDA

Though my blog posts typically offer some kind of reflection on my life’s experiences or an event, today I am making a plug for the MDA. One of my parishioners “turned me in” and I am being “locked up” on Thursday, December 1 to raise money for the Muscular Dystrophy Association. For anyone who wants to watch, I will be presented with a “warrant” around 12:45pm that day and then taken via squad car to the “lock up” location where I will join other community leaders in raising funds. I need assistance in raising my “bail.” This can be done online at http://www2.mda.org/site/TR/Lock-Up/44-D3-535-AkronDistrict?px=1035984&pg=personal&fr_id=1743 or by cash or check. Anyone who makes a contribution will receive a picture of me “behind bars.”

Until next time, peace …

The Least of These

In the last week I have read many articles and commentaries about the sexual abuse scandal at Penn State University. The acts committed by former defensive football coach Jerry Sandusky are horrific and unconscionable. He preyed on the vulnerability of children who were to be helped by his charitable organization and he must be held accountable. Others, too, must be held accountable for their failure to report his known actions to the appropriate authorities. I commend the University’s Board of Trustees for their quick and decisive action to remove Head Coach Joe Paterno and University President Graham Spanier when this situation was brought to light. While these two men did not personally and physically commit the heinous act of sexual abuse, they bear some responsibility. Through their inaction, they participated in the abuse by allowing it to continue. Acts of omission are as harmful as acts of commission.

This situation was weighing heavily on my mind this morning when I began initial preparations for next Sunday’s sermon. I am preaching on the prescribed gospel lection – Matthew 25: 31 – 46. This text, which has traditionally been called “The Judgment of the Nations,” includes the infamous words of Jesus, “I was hungry and you gave me food, I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink, I was a stranger and you welcomed me … truly I tell you, just as you did it to one of the least of these who are members of my family, you did it to me” (25: 35, 40 NRSV). Those to whom he speaks these words are invited to inherit the kingdom. He then turns to the crowd on his left and says, “… for I was hungry and you gave me no food, I was thirsty and you gave me nothing to drink, I was a stranger and you did not welcome me … truly I tell you, just as you did not do it to one of the least of these, you did not do it to me” (25: 42 – 43, 45). These contrasting words are spoken to those who will not inherit the kingdom.

As I reflected on this text, I heard an audible voice say, “I was being abused and you did nothing to stop it … just as you did not do it to one of the least of these, you did not do it to me.” Wow. Those words have haunted me over the last several hours, causing me to examine myself and look for places where I have contributed to injustice by my own inaction. These words are a clarion call to each of us. What are we doing to stop abuse and injustice in this world? The lives of the “least of these” are depending on it. And our very own lives depend on it, too.

Until next time, peace …

Practice What You Preach

As I reflect on an experience I had today – one that impacted me greatly – I realize that it is time for me to resurrect my blog. It has been four months since I started full-time parish ministry and I am finally settling in, establishing a routine, and may now have a little more time to write and reflect. Of course, I make no promises about the frequency or regularity of such posts, but I am compelled to share today’s experience.

The title of my sermon this morning was “Practice What You Preach” based on Matthew 23: 1 – 12. In the two preceding chapters, after Jesus’ triumphal entry into Jerusalem, his authority is questioned and the religious leaders engage him in conversation in an attempt to test and trick him. Jesus handles their questions competently, then in chapter 23, turns and addresses the crowds. He tells them that they should listen to the teachings of the scribes and the Pharisees, but not act like them because they do not practice what they teach. He then outlines the ways in which their actions are hypocritical. The implications are clear – our words and actions must be aligned; we must practice what we preach.

After church today, I made a quick trip to the store to pick up a few items. With my sermon still fresh on my mind, I was confronted with a situation that tested whether my actions matched my words. When I turned my car into the store parking lot, I saw a scruffy man holding a sign that read “Homeless. Any little bit will help.” As I parked my car, I heard an audible voice say, “So Robin, you just preached about this. What are you going to do? ARE you going to practice what you preach?” I sat in the still silence of my car for a few moments, then grabbed my wallet to see how much cash I had available. I decided on an amount, folded the bills and stepped out of my car. I approached the man and quietly handed him the money, and then, almost as an afterthought said, “God bless you.” I entered the store, gathered the necessary items and paid for them. As I exited the store, the man looked at me and said “thank you.” I smiled, said “you’re welcome” and proceeded to my car. As I started the ignition, the audible voice I had heard earlier boomed at me, “You hypocrite. You are just like the scribes and Pharisees.” The cash I had given the man was not going to change his situation. It might help him buy some groceries or put gas in his car, but it would have no long-term effect. I sat again in the still silence of my car for a moment, then got out and approached the man again. He looked at me with curiosity and tightly gripped the money I had given him. I wondered if he thought I was going to ask for it back. I asked in a quiet tone, “Would you be willing to tell me your name?” He said his name was Joe and for the next several minutes, he shared his story with me. He told me how he had lost his job and was subsequently evicted from his apartment. He talked about the difficulties of looking for a job with no permanent address to claim and no place to really get clean. I didn’t say much. Nothing I could have said would have really helped, but I just listened. He told me about his fiancée, Lucy, and that she was expecting a check soon and they hoped it would help them secure an inexpensive apartment. I told him I was sorry for all he had been through and together we had a few moments of sacred silence. With tears in his eyes, he then said, “Thank you for talking to me and caring enough to ask my name.” I told him I would pray for him, which, quite honestly felt very trite to me, but I had no other words to say. He again said “thank you,” and I turned and walked away as my own tears began to flow.

I drove home thinking about Joe and Lucy, praying for them and the millions of others who are homeless … and praying for myself, asking forgiveness for my hypocrisy and the times when my words and actions are not aligned. There are no quick fixes for the systemic complexities of homelessness, but there is power in listening to another’s story.

Until next time, peace …

Moving and such

I decided to take a break from packing to write a brief blog post. Can you say “PROCRASTINATION”?? J

Two days from now I will be settling into my new home – the parsonage at the Oak Chapel United Methodist Church in Wooster, OH. Since my appointment to Oak Chapel was announced at the end of April, another smaller, rural congregation has been added to my charge. The Bethel United Methodist Church, a cute white wooden-framed country church, is just three miles away. I am really looking forward to working with the people at these two churches and am very excited about their shared ministry possibilities.

Yesterday I visited with people at both churches in preparation for my move there. The members at Oak Chapel were busy cleaning, painting and doing repairs to the parsonage in anticipation of my arrival. I really appreciate their caring for the church property and assets AND their pastor in such a wonderful way.

When I visited the church in May, I took some pictures of the church and the exterior of the parsonage and created a brief video. Some of my friends and family have already seen it, but I thought I would post it here as well.

I hope to blog more faithfully once I have moved and get settled. Until next time, peace …

Signs of Beauty and Tranquility

Many have already heard that I am being appointed as full-time pastor at the Oak Chapel United Methodist Church in Wooster, Ohio effective July 1. That exciting news will be included in a future blog post. Over the last few days, however, I have been thinking about my move which will take place in just six short weeks. For the last four and a half years, The Methodist Theological School in Ohio has been my home. I was a student for three and a half of those years and have served as the Residence Life Liaison during the last year. The campus is my home – physically and spiritually. I have learned (not just in the classroom) and grown much during my time here, and I will not only miss the community, but I will miss the campus itself. It is a beautiful place! The luscious landscape and the academic architecture simply soothe my spirits and nurture my very soul.

A few weeks ago the Associate Dean at MTSO sent an e-mail advertising the “MTSO Beauty Contest.” Members of the community were encouraged to take pictures of beauty found on campus. As one who has enjoyed photographing the campus during various seasons, I jumped at the opportunity to spend a few hours wandering and taking pictures. Today I compiled a video of some of those photos along with some previous pictures I had taken. Take a peek at the beauty. Give yourself the gift of five minutes of peace and tranquility. Make yourself a cup of tea, sit back and commune with the Divine.

Until next time, peace …

Returning from a blogging sabbatical

Over the last three months I have done some journal writing and personal reflection, and have worked on a few small liturgical writing projects that will be published in some forthcoming collections. However, my blog has been barren. Admittedly the last several months have been disappointing – and dare I say it, painful – as I have been waiting for a full-time church appointment. These ever-lingering months were nothing like my original vision for life after seminary. I have dealt with some pretty raw emotions, and quite honestly, I was and still am not willing to expose those deepest parts of myself in such an open forum. I will say, however, that I have learned much during this time of exile and desolation – I have learned about myself, I have learned about others and I have learned about the resiliency of the human spirit.

My part-time customer service job has given me a new understanding of people who live in poverty, people who work for little more than minimum wage and are forced to choose between buying groceries or health insurance for their children. I have learned first-hand how corporate decision-making affects hourly-wage employees and have watched co-workers silently bow to unrealistic demands for fear of losing their jobs. While my own placement in such a situation is temporary, this is a long-term reality for my customer service colleagues. I have talked at length with co-workers living in homeless shelters and those who walked a few miles to work even in the harshest conditions because their bus fare was used to buy medication. Though I taught in the inner-city and have previously worked with people in poverty, my seminary education has given me a new perspective. I now look at these situations through a theological lens and ask myself where is God in the midst of this? What is the Body of Christ (the Church) doing to alleviate these situations? What am I personally doing to affect change? Do I speak up when I see an injustice or do I sit back and maintain the status quo? I have surprised myself at times when I have vocalized my displeasure with management decisions and advocated for the needs of the employees. I can’t explain what came over me in these situations, but I felt a compulsion to do so. Were I to do anything less, I would be just another participant in the corporate injustice. I HAD to do it. Though I would have never chosen my current situation, through it I have a greater understanding of the realities of human suffering and I have discovered a voice that lay dormant inside me. Both of these things will ultimately make me a more prophetic, passionate and compassionate pastor … and for that I am grateful.

Until next time, peace …

Prayer in the Workplace

Over the last few months during my hiatus from “official” pastoral ministry, I have had the opportunity to hold two part-time jobs. I am working on the Residence Life staff at MTSO, the seminary from which I graduated in May. My other employer is a well-known cleaning company where I am a customer service rep in their national call center. During my first few weeks at the second job, I did my work and kept to myself with only surface interactions with my co-workers. In the past several weeks, however, people have learned that I am a pastor and have started sharing pieces of their lives with me – joys, sorrows, pains, deepest hurts – and have requested that I pray for them and their families. Though I am not there in any official ministerial role, pastoral ministry is my vocation no matter who issues my paychecks. J

A few weeks ago, one of the supervisors asked me if I would come to the office on Monday mornings (not one of my work days/times) to pray with her and to anoint the center. For the last three Mondays I have met her at 7:30am to pray for those whose challenging circumstances are known to us as well as pray for all employees to be their best selves in their relationships with each other and our customers. I cannot say yet whether this practice has made a difference for those with whom we work, but I do know that time spent in prayer is never wasted.

Research indicates that patients who pray heal quicker than those who do not. Given these findings, I would speculate that employees who pray are more productive than those who do not, though I do not have any data to support such a claim at this point. I want to be clear, however, that I do not think that employees who pray are given some magic formula for productivity or that God favors them more than employees who do not pray. I could never support such a claim, but I do think that employees who pray are more grounded and centered which positively affects their productivity and overall well-being.

This new weekly ritual has prompted me to think about prayer and spirituality in the workplace: what is appropriate? what is the best way to initiate such a practice? who should initiate it? what, if any, kind of framework or guidelines should be used? how should it be structured so no one feels excluded and people of all faiths feel welcome? should there be one gathering or several to address the individual faith traditions of employees? how should this opportunity be communicated to employees? should supervisors and/or managers be involved? if so, what level of involvement is appropriate for them (i.e., leader vs. participant)? should this be done on company time or relegated to employees’ own time (breaks, lunches, or before/after work)? I have been pondering these questions and would welcome others’ questions and perspectives on this practice. I am very interested in looking at prayer in the workplace from a wholeness perspective – where people integrate prayer and spirituality into every aspect of their lives including their employment.

So, faithful blog readers, please consider this post as an invitation to conversation about this topic. I would love to hear from you.

Until next time, peace …

Remembering the Saints

Today is All Saints Day, a day in which we remember the lives of those who have gone before us. Though there are many among the faithful who have influenced my journey, today I am specifically honoring two men of God who have gone onto glory this year.

In my two and a half years as pastor at Smithville United Methodist Church I did not once have a funeral – an amazing feat considering that many in the church are seniors. In the four months since I left, however, there have been three deaths. I had the privilege and honor of being invited to return for the funerals of two of these men – Eugene Griffin and Gerald Margraf. (Special thanks to Pastor Matt, current pastor at Smithville, for his graciousness in these circumstances). Here are a few stories about these two faithful saints.

When I became the pastor at Smithville, it didn’t take me very long to get to know Eugene. For the first few weeks I was there he was on his best behavior, but it was about a month after my arrival when I greeted him on a Sunday morning and asked how he was doing that he got this sparkle in his eye and a mischievous grin on his face. He responded, “Mean and nasty.” And from then on, I could count on that response every Sunday morning. “How are you this morning, Eugene?” “I’m mean and nasty,” he would say. I always laughed as there was not a mean or nasty bone in Eugene’s body. This is not to say that he wasn’t a tough guy – he most certainly was. He had to be – he was a truck driver for Freezer Queen for many years and he worked hard in the fields as a farmer, too – but he had a kind and gentle spirit about him and would do anything for anybody.

I have many special memories of Eugene, but there is one that will forever be etched in my mind. On a Sunday morning in October two years ago, Eugene and JoAnne officially joined the church at Smithville. They had been an integral part of the Smithville family for many years and their joining church that day seemed like a formality, but I remember the day well because Eugene was baptized. I had the privilege and honor of baptizing him as he stood at the front of the church and professed his faith in Jesus Christ. Baptism is a covenant through which God marks us, seals us and claims us as a beloved child. Eugene was indeed – and still is – a beloved child of God. I sang to Eugene that day, too. In my home church we have a tradition of singing to those being baptized. Most often those being baptized are babies or children, but I didn’t care. I sang that lullaby to him anyway. “Eugene Griffin, God claims you. God helps you, protects you and loves you, too. We this day, do all agree, a child of God you’ll always be. Eugene Griffin, God claims you. God helps you, protects you, and loves you, too.” In both life and death, Eugene is a child of God who God claims as God’s own. I must tell you on that baptism day there was indeed a twinkle in Eugene’s eye – and a tear or two in both his and mine and JoAnne’s, too. Eugene’s baptism was my first as a celebrant and it seems rather fitting that his funeral was also my first “official” funeral as a pastor (save my own grandmother’s at which I presided last year).

The other funeral in which I participated this year was that of Gerald Margraf. I wish I had known Gerald before that devastating disease – Alzheimer’s – invaded his body. There were times in my visits with Gerald and Doris that I caught glimpses of who the real Gerald was … and I have a feeling that he and I could have gotten into a lot of trouble together! I recall during one of my visits the family had gathered for a meal. When the meal was finished and the table was being cleared, Doris told Gerald to go into the living room where we would continue the conversation. We all stood up and watched as Gerald began walking … and then he bumped into the wall! At first I was concerned that he had tripped and when I reached out for his arm, he turned, and with a twinkle in his eye, he winked at me and started laughing. The little rascal had done it on purpose! He had a wonderful sense of humor and loved practical jokes. A man after my own heart.

On another visit to the Margraf home on a Sunday afternoon in December, Gerald’s daughters Kate and Joanne and I were going through some music for the upcoming Christmas program at the church. His face lit up as we sang. Music was such an integral part of Gerald’s life. When we finished reviewing the Christmas pieces, Kate and Joanne began to play some other music, including some old war songs and pieces from the 1940s. And I got another glimpse of the real Gerald. He began to sing along, something he had not done for a long time. Gerald loved music and that day it made a connection with him in a way that the spoken word no longer could.

There were many pictures taken during the Christmas program at Smithville that year. One in particular was a shot of me laughing (a shock to those of you who know me, I’m sure J). When Joanne showed her Dad the pictures, Gerald looked at the one of me and began to laugh. Though he couldn’t remember my name, he didn’t miss a beat when he responded, “Chuckles takes a good picture, doesn’t she?” From that day on, he always called me Chuckles. It is a nickname I cherish because of the sincerity of this dear man.

I am grateful that the lives of these two men – Eugene and Gerald – intersected with mine and I appreciate their families’ willingness to allow me to share their stories here. On this All Saints Day, may you be reminded of those who have gone before us and be comforted by the fact that in life, in death, in life beyond death, God is with us and loves us … and there is nothing that can separate us from that love.

Until next time, peace …

A letter to my congressional representative

Earlier this week a friend of mine posted a facebook link to Amnesty International where one could take action on worldwide women’s rights and protection from violence. The website invited people to contact their congressional leaders regarding House Resolution 4594, the International Violence Against Women Act (IVAWA). Violence against women and girls is a devastating global issue and this legislation would set U.S. policy for responding to and preventing such abuse. I completed the online form to contact Congressman Pat Tiberi (Congressional District 12, Ohio) asking him to support the resolution should it make it to the house floor.

Though I was pleased to receive an e-mail indicating Congressman Tiberi’s support of IVAWA, I was appalled at the manner in which the letter was addressed to me. Please read his letter below.

September 16, 2010

Mr. Robin Dillon

Delaware, OH 43015-3211

Dear Mr. Dillon,

Thank you for your recent correspondence regarding the International Violence Against Women Act (IVAWA).  I appreciate this opportunity to correspond with you.

As you may know, H.R. 4594, the International Violence Against Women Act of 2010 was introduced by Representative Bill Delahunt (D-MA) in the United States House of Representatives on February 4, 2010.  A similar bill was introduced in the United States Senate by Senator John Kerry (D-MA).  The legislation would make it the policy of the U.S. to promote women’s political, economic, educational, social, cultural, civil, and human rights opportunities throughout the world.  This bill also would make it policy that the U.S. would condemn and combat violence against women and girls, and would promote and assist other governments in preventing and responding to such violence.  Please be assured I will thoroughly review this legislation should it be considered by the U.S. House of Representatives.

IVAWA is a step in the right direction to help protect women who have been victims of violence and to prevent such violence in the future.  Whether or not this or similar legislation is considered in the U.S. House of Representatives will be determined by the Democratic House Leadership headed by Speaker Nancy Pelosi (D-CA).

Thanks again for taking a moment to share your thoughts with me.   Please be assured I will keep your thoughts in mind as legislative business continues in the 111th Congress.  If I may be of assistance in the future, please feel free to contact my office.

Sincerely,

Patrick J. Tiberi

Representative to Congress

Dear MR. Dillon? Really? Um, that’s my Dad … not me. I was incensed that he automatically assumed I was male, particularly when he was writing about the issue of women’s rights. Hello? What’s wrong with this picture? I gave myself a few days to regain my composure and professionalism before responding to him. The following is the letter I sent to him this morning.

Dear Representative Tiberi,

I very much appreciated your prompt e-mail response to my correspondence regarding the International Violence Against Women Act (IVAWA) that was introduced by Representative Bill Delahunt of Massachusetts. Indeed, as you have noted, this act is a “step in the right direction to help protect women who have been victims of violence and to prevent such violence in the future.”

I am grateful for your support of this legislation should it be brought to the House floor for consideration.  However, your e-mail disturbs me. Though I am a woman, the salutation in your letter identified me as “Mr.” I recognize that the name “Robin” is ambiguous, but your use of the default masculine address is disconcerting, particularly since more than half of your constituency is female (51.9% according to U.S. Census Bureau data found at http://factfinder.census.gov/servlet/QTTable?_bm=y&-geo_id=50000US3912&-qr_name=DEC_2000_110H_DP1&-ds_name=D&-_lang=en).  Even more alarming was its use in a piece of correspondence of which the very subject was human rights for women.  Since my gender was not identifiable in my initial correspondence, I would have much preferred a less formal and gender-neutral address to “Robin” than the formal, incorrect and devaluing “Mr.” Sensitivity to such issues should be a priority in future correspondence with your constituents.

We live in a patriarchal society and your very own letter is evidence that it will take more than a piece of legislation to enact systemic change for women’s social, economic, political, educational and cultural human rights in this country and throughout the world.

Sincerely,

MS. Robin D. Dillon

Indeed we have a long way to go. Until next time, peace …

A Mother Bunny and God

As part of her ordination service yesterday, Cordelia asked me to read Psalm 139. Those who know me well or have spent time talking with me about scripture know that this is one of my very favorite passages. I preached a sermon on this text at two years ago for my Intro to Homiletics class and then at Smithville the following Sunday. For the children’s message I read one of my favorite children’s books, The Runaway Bunny, by Margaret Wise Brown, and then wove portions of the psalm and the book into my sermon. I am including here the text of the story, the psalm and my sermon that day …

The Runaway Bunny

Once there was a little bunny who wanted to run away. So he said to his mother, “I am running away.” “If you run away,” said his mother, “I will run after you. For you are my little bunny.”

“If you run after me,” said the little bunny, “I will become a fish in a trout stream and I will swim away from you.” “If you become a fish in a trout stream,” said his mother, “I will become a fisherman and I will fish for you.”

“If you become a fisherman,” said the little bunny, “I will become a rock on the mountain, high above you.” “If you become a rock on the mountain high above me,” said his mother, “I will be a mountain climber, and I will climb to where you are.”

“If you become a mountain climber,” said the little bunny, “I will be a crocus in a hidden garden.” “If you become a crocus in a hidden garden,” said his mother, “I will be a gardener. And I will find you.”

“If you are a gardener and find me,” said the little bunny, “I will be a bird and fly away from you.” “If you become a bird and fly away from me,” said his mother, “I will be a tree that you come home to.”

“If you become a tree,” said the little bunny, “I will become a little sailboat, and I will sail away from you.” “If you become a sailboat and sail away from me,” said his mother, “I will become the wind and blow you where I want you to go.”

“If you become the wind and blow me,” said the little bunny, “I will join a circus and fly away on a flying trapeze.” “If you go flying on a flying trapeze,” said his mother, “I will be a tightrope walker, and I will walk across the air to you.”

“If you become a tightrope walker and walk across the air,” said the bunny, “I will become a little boy and run into a house.” “If you become a little boy and run into a house,” said the mother bunny, “I will become your mother and catch you in my arms and hug you.”

“Shucks,” said the bunny, “I might just as well stay where I am and be your little bunny.” And so he did. “Have a carrot,” said the mother bunny.

The scripture reading for today comes from Psalm 139: 1 – 12; 23 – 24. As you listen to (or as you blog readers read) the text, recall those wonderful images of the loving and steadfast mother bunny. Hear then the reading of God’s word.

O Lord, you have searched me and known me.
You know when I sit down and when I rise up;
you discern my thoughts from far away.
You search out my path and my lying down,
and are acquainted with all my ways.
Even before a word is on my tongue,
O Lord, you know it completely.
You hem me in, behind and before,
and lay your hand upon me.
Such knowledge is too wonderful for me;
it is so high that I cannot attain it.

Where can I go from your spirit?
Or where can I flee from your presence?
If I ascend to heaven, you are there;
if I make my bed in Sheol, you are there.
If I take the wings of the morning
and settle at the farthest limits of the sea,
even there your hand shall lead me,
and your right hand shall hold me fast.
If I say, ‘Surely the darkness shall cover me,
and the light around me become night’,
even the darkness is not dark to you;
the night is as bright as the day,
for darkness is as light to you.

Search me, O God, and know my heart;
test me and know my thoughts.
See if there is any wicked way in me,
and lead me in the way everlasting.

Psalm 139 has always been one of my favorite psalms because it speaks of a Creator who knows us intimately and whose presence is with us even in the darkest of dark places. Like a mother bunny who will not let her baby get away, God will go to great lengths to keep us within reach. This psalm is a prayer that is both unsettling and reassuring, reminding the Psalmist that the Lord is aware of our comings and goings. I remember hearing this Psalm for the first time when I was a teenager, and you may think this is strange, but the Psalm reminded me of Santa Claus. You remember the song “Santa Claus is Coming to Town.” “He sees you when you’re sleeping, he knows when you’re awake, he knows if you’ve been bad or good, so be good for goodness sake. Oh you better watch out, you better not cry, you better not pout, I’m telling you why, Santa Claus is coming to town.” Equating God with Santa Claus, I often wondered if God would only give us presents or blessings if we did what was expected of us. I wondered if God’s presence was only given to those who were in keeping with God’s commands. Surely this was not what the Psalmist had in mind when these words were penned.

The authorship and dating of individual Psalms can rarely be determined. Many are believed to have been written during Israel’s monarchy between 1000 and 587 BCE, although some of the later Psalms, particularly 90 through 150, were thought to have been written or re-written in response to the theological crisis of the Babylonian exile, somewhere between 587 and 539 BCE. Although Psalm 139 is included in those later writings, it is attributed to David. David was King of Israel for forty years. He is often portrayed as a righteous king, an acclaimed warrior, a musician and poet. But he was not without fault. You may recall his little tryst with Bathsheba, the wife of Uriah the Hittite. When Bathsheba becomes pregnant, David plots and schemes to get Uriah to sleep with his wife to conceal the identity of the child’s father. When Uriah refuses to sleep with her, however, David has him killed. It is this David – musician and murderer – who writes this Psalm. Oh Lord, you have searched me and known me. You know when I sit and when I lie down. You are acquainted with all my ways. These words have to be unsettling for David because of his misdeeds. God indeed knows all that he has done. The Psalmist says such knowledge is too wonderful for me; it is beyond me. And yet his words go on – where can I go from your spirit? Where can I flee from your presence? If I ascend to the heavens, you are there. If I make my bed in Sheol, or Hell, you are there. For the Psalmist, even in the midst of his deepest despair, God is present.

It is possible, too, that this Psalm was re-written after the time of David – during the time of the Exile with the needs of those who had been exiled in mind – reminding them that God indeed is with them wherever they go – even the dark places – Sheol, Hell, Bablyon. Those bleak and barren places. Those dismal and deserted places. Those horrifying and hopeless places. Brutal Babylon. Think for a moment about the brutal Babylons you have experienced.

Melissa was ten years old when her life changed. She was a somewhat shy child in the early years of her life, hiding in the safety of her mother’s skirt and sucking her thumb when adults talked to her. As she grew from a toddler to a young child, she knew that she was deeply loved, both by her parents and the Jesus she had heard about in Sunday School – that man whose picture was in one of the stained glass windows at her church; that man who picked little children up, put them on his lap, and held them in the safety of his arms. But her life changed drastically when she was ten. She was ten years old when her neighbor touched her with one of those touches that did not feel safe; one of those touches that not only hurt her physically, but made her feel very ashamed of herself. She knew that what he did to her was wrong and she longed for the shelter of her mother’s skirt. But he threatened her. He threatened to harm her if she told anyone. He told her no one would believe her anyway. And so she was silenced. Silenced from her family, silenced from the God who she thought loved her, and silenced even from herself. She told no one. Over the course of the next two years, this neighbor continued to touch her, to harm her, to hurt her; his actions were unimaginable. And she endured in silence, in darkness, in her own Sheol. In her own brutal Babylon.

Then one day Melissa outsmarted him. It was a risk for sure, but she devised a plan to make certain she was never alone with him again. And it worked. She was free, and her bodily wounds began to heal, but the painful memories haunted her – they penetrated her mind, pierced her heart, and punctured a hole in her soul. And she continued to remain silent. Like the basement he lured her to, she locked away her secret in her own deep, dark dungeon, desperately determined to make it disappear.

In a sense, her strategy worked. On the outside, she appeared to have a great life. She did well in school. She went on to college, graduated and got a good job. Her friends envied her, never knowing the torment that lie dormant in her soul. She was a perfectionist, a control freak, you might say, trying desperately to make up for the times as a child when her situation was so out of control. For years she played this game. She hid from her family, she hid from her friends, she hid from herself, and she tried to hide from God. Where can I go from your spirit? Or where can I flee from your presence?

She ran from God. She said to God, I am running away. But God said to her, if you run away, I will run after you for you are my child. If I ascend to heaven you are there. If I make my bed in Sheol, you are there.

She said, Fine. If you run after me, I will become a fish and I will swim away from you. And God said, if you become a fish, I will become a fisherman and I will fish for you. She said, Fine. If you become a fisherman, I will become a bird and fly away from you. And God said, if you become a bird and fly away from me, I will become a tree that you come home to. If I take the wings of the morning and settle at the farthest limits of the sea, even there your hand shall lead me, and your right hand shall hold me fast.

She said, Fine. You claim to know me. You know when I sit and when I lie down. You know the words that I am going to say. You must know what happened to me. You must know the darkness I have experienced and the battle that rages within me. For fifteen years Melissa hid in the darkness, wrestling and running, trying to make sense of what happened to her. She told God again and again, I am running away. And God said, if you run, I will catch you in my arms and hug you. If I say, “Surely the darkness shall cover me, and the light around me become night,” even the darkness is not dark to you; the night is as bright as day, for darkness is as light to you.

As Melissa ran and wrestled, the words of this Psalm popped into her head when she least expected it. This Psalm that she had heard as a child began to penetrate her thoughts and patch the hole in her soul. She broke her silence and began the healing process. She began to realize that God’s presence was indeed with her in those dark days and would continue to be with her in what surely would be some dark times ahead as she confronted her past. When she realized that God had a grip on her and she was never out of God’s reach, she slowly began to relinquish her tightly-held control, saying, “Shucks, I might as well stay here in your presence and be your child.” And she did.

“We are always in the presence of God … There is never a nonsacred moment! God’s presence never diminishes. Our awareness of God’s presence may falter, but the reality of God’s presence never changes.” (Max Lucado). Amen.

Until next time, peace …