me, a preacher?? nah.

So, I preached my first "sermon" this past week in chapel at the hospital where I have been a student in a January term class, Pastoral Care.
This post is for my mom... this was my message. (Don't be surprised if it sounds like some of my posts, I compiled some of them for this particular message.)

I came across this passage as I was listening to a sermon in church one Sunday about the Good Samaritan. My eyes sort of skimmed down and God caught me in that moment.
Listen as I read from Luke chapter 10 verses 38-42. (This is the story of Mary and Martha)
I don't know about you, but sometimes I have to stop myself and look around to be reminded to slow down. I have to force myself to even take a breath. I will find anything sometimes to avoid silence.
I might turn on the TV or my ITUNES just for a little background noise, or I might busy myself at my desk, turning in circles to figure out what it is I am trying to do. Even when I am in the middle of a conversation with a friend, I might pull out my phone to text another.
We are in constant communication with the world around us- but do we miss opportunities to be in communication with the one who created us? Do we miss God's presence?
Unfortunately, I must confess that so often I do.
I often find the charge to be the presence of Christ and God in the world to be overwhelming. When I think of presence, I am reminded of my mom. When I used to get scared or sick in the middle of the night, I would walk into my parents' room and my mom would wake up because she could feel my presence in the room. I am continually dumbfounded, even to this day, at how she knew my presence so quickly and how she would tenderly and attentively care for my needs. After all, a mother's love cannot be forgotten.
I like to think that Christ and I have this same type of relationship. I know that Christ knows my presence, but I also hope I know Christ's presence in just the same intimate way, and that my response would be as immediate to him as my mothers' is to me.

Often times, I miss opportunities that God places in my way to be the presence of Christ in this suffering world. I pass right by the lonely eyes, and stare the other way so that I miss the things that God is putting in my path daily. As Joan Puls says is, "We fail so often to recognize the light that shines through the tiny chinks and the dusty panes of our daily lives. We are too busy to name the even that is blessed in its ordinariness... and grace-filled in its underlying challenge." I miss it because I am so busy preparing my next move or balancing out all of my many activities- or even worrying that I am not being exactly what God needs, when all God needs is for me to be who God created me to be.

My challenge remains to sit like Mary and be utterly still. As Jesus reminded Martha, "Only one thing is needed."
Those other things: those e-mails, phone calls and menial tasks, those can wait for just a while.
I find it interesting that this story of Mary and Martha follows so closely after the Parable of the Good Samaritan, it follows after a story demonstrating the love of Jesus, a story demonstrating that Jesus is the Good Samaritan. A story that reminds us that he came, being one who would be hated by his own; he came to save and pay for what I was yet to do. I think that the writer of Luke, and Jesus, both, are aiming to remind us that to really experience that Grace and to be able to share that love which gave us life, we also must take time to sit in the presence. We are assured that that presence will not be taken away and we are reminded that it is necessary and good.
When I allow time to sit in the presence I can relax and fall into the silence of the Spirit of God and feel the Grace of God rushing into me.
Christ's presence is distinct and personal, but when we allow ourselves time to be near to him, when we open ourselves up to him, then we begin to see him revealing himself in the world around us.
We hear him in the cry of a baby; we see his joy in our joy and his suffering in our fears. We feel him in the bitter cold against our cheek; we see him in the beauty of a sunset and amidst the secrets of life's rhythm and dance.
So, be still.

Be still.
Thank God that you are not God and sit in awe with me at the fact that God will use us in unfathomable ways. Wherever we find that our feet may be, so there will we find the presence of Christ.
Amen.