“Counting It All Joy
8. Give Your Joy Away”
First Presbyterian Church
Rev. Donald E. Ray
August 12, 2007
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At one of the sites
where our youth worked on the
On another of our visits, we made tuna salad sandwiches to
serve for lunch. I’d like to think
it because they saw we were there again, this day the men were smiling,
appreciative. They sat in groups and
talked as they ate. “Mr.
Director” though was the same. At
the first break in the line, he took away the trays of tuna sandwiches and
brought out some misshapen, plastic wrapped left over ham sandwiches for
seconds. There were some men who had
not been through the line once and were obviously disappointed at the downgraded
selection. Our youth requested the
return of the original sandwiches and began a kind of verbal tug of war as the
boss begrudgingly surrendered a few more tuna buns. Our
youth stood firm especially when for a couple of the men, ham was offensive to
their Moslem diet.
As we reflected on our experiences of the day, several of
our youth commented that “Mr. Director” was a real grump, and observed that
he had a negative impact on how those who came to the center felt about the
experience.
Paul writes to the Corinthians, “Each one must do as
carefully decided, not reluctantly or under compulsion. For
God loves a cheerful giver.” (II Cor. 9:7) It
is probably easier for me to say, not being the one responsible for raising the
church budget, (at least I don’t think I am) but it is probably better not to
give at all if not cheerfully. It is
certainly better not to be doing hands on charitable mission if not with joy. Our
experience at the mission in
Joy is that mystical gift of the morning that lifts our
spirits in love and peace, faith and hope. Circumstances
may try to steal it away. But more
often we give joy away when we bring a sour attitude out of those circumstances.
Joy is that spark of compassion that
absorbs the weeping of the night and gives courage and comfort in the struggles
and grief. It is that fruit of
God’s spirit mingled with love and peace that nurtures life abundant, because
it is the life we live in God.
Joy is infectious and contagious. As
that joy which comes in the morning stirs its spark in us, that which may have
brought weeping in the night is lifted, even just a little. The
lines of worry and sadness in our face begin to soften. Allowed
to grow, joy brings again a smile and a smile has a way of bringing a smile to
the faces of others.
The story of the Israelite exodus from
There is a story in the Old Testament of the prophet Elijah
asking a widow in Zarephath to bring him some water and something to eat. She
responded that she had nothing and was gathering sticks for a fire to bake her
remaining handful of meal and few drops of oil for herself and her son as their
last meal before death from starvation. At
Elijah’s insistence that there would be enough, she shared her food with him,
not with any evidence of joy in her life. But
then, there are only three incidental mention of joy in the Scriptures to this
point. (I Kings 17:8-16)
In the Gospels, Mark and Luke describe the scene of Jesus
sitting across from the collection box at the
Both of these stories are favorites of church stewardship
campaigns. The point is made of
giving in faith and sacrificial generosity. The
two widows are linked, the second observed by Jesus compared to the one in
Zarephath, giving her last only with hope that God will provide.
Now the story is brief with a lot left to our imagination. Imagination,
I think, rather than flight from reality, often puts us in touch with reality. Some
see the face of this widow at the
I see her lips turned upward in a slight smile; her eyes
with a sparkle, dim perhaps by her burdens, but yet a sparkle. Jesus
said of her that she put in of “all that she had to live on. That
means more than the coins in the grocery jar; the stores on the pantry shelves,
the pay check at the end of the week; the savings in the bank and the market. All
she had to live on included the faith of the Psalmist; her strength in her
visits to the house of prayer; the love, joy, and peace that God’s Spirit
nourished in her life as each day dawned. I
see the joy she gives away with her penny.
Cindy and our Chancel Choir gave away joy this Friday past. Tom had asked that “A Song of Resurrection”, the poem by Peter Siedlecki set to music by Ron Martin be shared as part of the concluding sermon of his week-long series at Chautauqua. The choir needed to be there early, very early for some. It’s a long walk into the Institution. But it was a cheerful gathering in the choir loft of the Amphitheater, and for an early morning in the midst of summer vocal lull, it was a cheerful sound even from warm-up. It was a cheerful message that radiated;
“When the old somber ways are destroyed
and what stays is the joy that is human,
This is the meaning of hallelujah,
Rise, come forth, and sing hallelujah”
Jesus said to his disciples, “Everything I have said to
you is so that my joy may be in you, and that your joy may be complete.” (John
15:11) God and joy do belong in the
same sentence. So do joy and human
belong in the same sentence. In God
“we live and move and have our being.” (Acts 17:28) Then,
God’s Spirit bears in us love, joy, and peace. To
be human is joy in the community of humanity. Where
ever we are, what ever is happening, with whom ever we meet, at what ever task
we are occupied, joy and human do belong in the same sentence.
Probably no one more than the church needs to ingest that line from Siedlecki’s poem:
“When the old somber ways are destroyed
and what stays is the joy that is human,”
I think even a few more than usual Chautauqua spirits were lifted Friday
morning. But singing
“hallelujah” cannot be the end of the story. The
joy that is human plays out in our interrelatedness with all of life. All
of life is impacted in joy.
I know I was still a little off the ground when later in
the day Friday, I stopped at Wegman’s to pick up a couple of things. As
I was walking to the check out past the child care area, a young woman was
leaving with her shopping cart. Her
youngest child was inside the window opening, and in spite of the best efforts
of the attendant, was crying for her mommy. The
petite young mother hurrying away from the scene was keeping up with my long
stride and we walked side by side for a moment. Her
need for a few minutes freed of her children to get her groceries and the tug of
her little girl’s tears on her heart were doing battle within her. I
said compassionately, without judgment, “That’s always so hard.” And
she began to talk… tell me of her three children…she loved them all…but
this youngest was so different. We
agreed that her little girl would survive and be better in the long run for the
experiences of independence from mom---hopefully mom would survive to.
She paused to allow me to cross to the check-out and we
were on our separate ways. It was a
simple moment. But I found myself
giving away a little more joy. And I
think it was a significant moment. I
know it was for me. Giving away your
joy is like that.
Amen.
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