Mourn with those Who Mourn

There's an old expression about preaching to yourself. For those of us who most of the time only get to experience our own sermons, that's all we get. During the actual preaching, it's not like we can really receive the message, we're too busy giving it. But often during the week of preparation the Spirit, the Word and life work on the preacher.

This coming week my text will be Romans 12:14-15: Bless those who persecute you; bless and do not curse. Rejoice with those who rejoice; mourn with those who mourn.

I've anticipated this for weeks, as I'm working through Romans 12 and I've known it's coming. Verse 15 has long been a life instruction for me, to rejoice with those who rejoice, mourn with those who mourn.

It has seemed especially applicable in these last weeks, and we will take a season of prayer after the sermon to pray for the things we mourn and rejoice, both in our world and in our personal lives.

What hit me today is the verse before really sets up the whole end of this chapter, and when we are rejoicing and mourning with others, that needs to include those who persecute us.

In this hotly contested political season, especially during these two weeks of conventions, I am watching my friends arguing about candidates, their positions, current events regarding Black Lives Matter and police killings.

We all have our own opinions, and it's a rare moment when we change anyone's mind with a Facebook comment, especially an angry one. Here is where I am preaching to myself.

I would encourage all of us to consider the pain someone may be experiencing before making the comments we do. I have been especially offended by those criticizing the dead, blaming the victims. Remnants of Job's friends again.

Some compassion would go a long way. Let's try that. Rejoice with those who rejoice (even when we're not feeling it) mourn with those who mourn (even when we don't get it.). It may come back around to you just when you need it.

Patriotism

On July 1, I gathered with some friends and new ones to sing patriotic songs in a local square. Afterwards one young man remarked that July 4th is his favorite holiday. That surprised me; my family never made much of this day.

Singing those patriotic songs I noticed how many referenced God and dependence on God, as well as gratitude. That I can sing with enthusiasm.

I grew up in Kentucky, and I can sing My Old Kentucky Home with tears in my eyes. When I first moved out of my home state, just barely over the border into Cincinnati, I would sing that song as well as Dixie, which if unfamiliar, goes like this:

Oh, I wish I was in the land of cotton,
Old times there are not forgotten,
Look away, look away, look away Dixie Land.

In Dixie Land, where I was born in,
early on one frosty mornin',
Look away, look away, look away Dixie Land.

I wish I was in Dixie, Hooray! Hooray!
In Dixie Land I'll take my stand
to live and die in Dixie.
Away, away, away down south in Dixie.
Away, away, away down south in Dixie 

Both songs could leave me quite morose and homesick. As I began to work in my new city with African Americans, I became increasingly uncomfortable with the associations with such songs, the Confederate Flag in particular. I will always love my home state, and thankfully Kentucky joined the Union, but I cannot be proud of the racism of the South. I will always feel more like a Southerner and be proud of the true hospitality of that part of the country, but not the true cruelty of a land that abused others and still holds onto that attitude.

The US will always be my homeland, and I cannot imagine living anywhere else. But when I drive west, and see the desolate land we sent our native tribes to inhabit instead of the lush lands of places like Tennessee, I grieve. 

This is my home, and I will be faithful, but only as a child is faithful to her mother yet willing to gently correct when mom is out of line. My grown children are willing to chastise me when I'm wrong, to point out my lingering prejudices or unkindnesses. So too I find it appropriate of us as children of our nation.

I love the lyrics to This is My Song, sung to the haunting melody Finlandia. You can watch a beautiful version here. The lyrics well state my attitude toward the world.

This is my song, O God of all the nations,
A song of peace for lands afar and mine.
This is my home, the country where my heart is,
Here are my hopes, my dreams, my holy shrine;
But other hearts in other lands are beating
With hopes and dreams as true and high as mine.

My country’s skies are bluer than the ocean,
And sunlight beams on clover leaf and pine.
But other lands have sunlight too, and clover,
And skies are everywhere as blue as mine.
O hear my song, Thou God of all nations,
A song of peace for their land and for mine.

This is my prayer, O Lord of all earth’s kingdoms:
Thy kingdom come on earth, Thy will be done.
Let Christ be lifted up till all shall serve Him,
And hearts united learn to live as one.
O hear my prayer, Thou God of all the nations.
Myself I give Thee; let Thy will be done.

This is my song, O God of all the nations,
A song of peace for all in every place;
And yet I pray for my beloved country
The reassurance of continued grace;
Lord, help us find our oneness in the Savior,
In spite of differences of age and race.  
Lloyd Stone, Georgia Harkness, Jean Sibelius © 1934, 1964 Lorenz Publishing Company 

And it ends with words similar to those I wrote for an extra verse to Amazing Grace:

We celebrate our differences of culture, class and race

We love The Other in Christ's Name and seek all to embrace. © Katherine Callahan-Howell 2015

Years ago after my mother died we used some of her estate to take our family and my brother's to visit Ireland.

When I arrived there, the homeland of my ancestors, I had an experience that lived out a quote I had long had on my desk by Judith Thurman, "Every dreamer knows that is it entirely possible to be homesick for a place you've never been to, perhaps more homesick than for familiar ground." Ireland felt like home.

Meanwhile I still love my country, imperfect as she is, critical as I may sometimes be. That same yearning that I experience for Kentucky, for home, for places yet unseen, will never be fully satisfied this side of heaven.  I long for that future country, which cannot be shaken, and all my longings will be satisfied.