Rev. Katherine Todd
Give ear, O my people, to my teaching;
incline your ears to the words of my mouth.
I will open my mouth in a parable;
I will utter dark sayings from of old,
things that we have heard and known,
that our ancestors have told us.
We will not hide them from their children;
we will tell to the coming generation
the glorious deeds of the Lord, and his might,
and the wonders that he has done.
He established a decree in Jacob,
and appointed a law in Israel,
which he commanded our ancestors
to teach to their children;
that the next generation might know them,
the children yet unborn,
and rise up and tell them to their children,
so that they should set their hope in God,
and not forget the works of God,
but keep his commandments;
and that they should not be like their ancestors,
a stubborn and rebellious generation,
a generation whose heart was not steadfast,
whose spirit was not faithful to God.
The Ephraimites, armed with[a] the bow,
turned back on the day of battle.
They did not keep God’s covenant,
but refused to walk according to his law.
They forgot what he had done,
and the miracles that he had shown them.
In the sight of their ancestors he worked marvels
in the land of Egypt, in the fields of Zoan.
He divided the sea and let them pass through it,
and made the waters stand like a heap.
In the daytime he led them with a cloud,
and all night long with a fiery light.
He split rocks open in the wilderness,
and gave them drink abundantly as from the deep.
He made streams come out of the rock,
and caused waters to flow down like rivers.
From the wilderness of Sin the whole congregation of the Israelites journeyed by stages, as the Lord commanded. They camped at Rephidim, but there was no water for the people to drink. The people quarreled with Moses, and said, “Give us water to drink.” Moses said to them, “Why do you quarrel with me? Why do you test the Lord?” But the people thirsted there for water; and the people complained against Moses and said, “Why did you bring us out of Egypt, to kill us and our children and livestock with thirst?” So Moses cried out to the Lord, “What shall I do with this people? They are almost ready to stone me.” The Lord said to Moses, “Go on ahead of the people, and take some of the elders of Israel with you; take in your hand the staff with which you struck the Nile, and go. I will be standing there in front of you on the rock at Horeb. Strike the rock, and water will come out of it, so that the people may drink.” Moses did so, in the sight of the elders of Israel. He called the place Massah and Meribah, because the Israelites quarreled and tested the Lord, saying, “Is the Lord among us or not?”
We have been following the story of the Israelites, from Jacob to Moses this summer, and it is ever so striking how faithless the people, these chosen ones, God’s people, seem to be. Is it any wonder they also experience God’s wrath – as they, who have been blessed so abundantly, stray so very far from God’s ways and God’s heart?!
Finally, under Moses’ leadership, the nation has been liberated from the heavy hand of Egypt, but despite having witnessed God’s judgement on Egypt in sign and wonder and heart-break; despite having narrowly escaped the full military power of Egypt, crossing the very Red Sea on foot, while the waters ceased their flow on both sides of them; despite receiving manna in the morning and quail in the evening the people still doubt God. The people still complain. The people still fear for their well-being. They fear they will not have…food and pleasure and provision.
Can you believe it?
Would you be changed if you’d walked through a corridor of water, held back by the hand of God, saving your life in the nick of time?
Would you be changed if you were rescued out of slavery?!
It is easy to point the finger.
What about you?
What about me?
As for myself, I was blessed to be raised in a family of God-fearing parents. I was sheltered from many a storm and heartache because of that.
And each summer, though my parents could not afford anything extra, my church gave me and each of my siblings scholarships to attend the area Presbyterian Camp, where I came alive! It was there in my final summer, that I felt God’s call to ministry.
And most every summer my church or my family would make their way to Montreat Conference Center, in the mountains of North Carolina. There we’d rock hop, explore old micah mines, hike, sing, and wade in the cold crisp mountain stream. The camping option there always gave us a way in, even though the hotel was out of reach. And to this day, Montreat is where my heart feels home.
When my parents split up and my heart felt it was splitting in two, my youth minister showed me great love, calling me every single morning, before school, to pray with me. She knew I needed the support. And she led us in Bible Study, which I was really finding delicious, for the first time. She taught us that it wasn’t about religion at all but about relationship, a relationship with God, and that made all the difference.
And I was blessed to attend Presbyterian College, where I got to learn from amazing professors in my fields, of religion, philosophy, and music. There, I got to ask all the hard questions, put my faith on the line, come to end of myself, and find that God was still the most real thing in all the world to me.
A year later I got to attend Union Presbyterian Seminary and explore my faith further – hoping to find all the answers but rather uncovering more and more questions. Faith would have to grow or fade. And again I would have the chance to face the demons in our spiritual closets, to face difficult scripture passages, and to continue on my slow journey of trusting God in the process of my life.
And though I’d felt called to ministry at 16, I couldn’t see the path forward at the time. I was deeply shy, introspective, introverted, soft-spoken. I couldn’t see how I could be used by God for such work. I thought being gregarious and funny, outgoing and extraverted were all necessary for the job. But I trusted that if God called me, God would equip me. And twenty years from the time of my calling, I was ordained in the Presbyterian Church (USA) at Camp Hanover. Despite many doubts, much time, unforeseen obstacles, and test after test after examination, God fulfilled this call in my life. What a tremendous gift!
Now, most often when I recall my childhood, I will recall how I felt bullied most all the time. I recall being excluded by church “friends” from events and conversation. I recall being looked down on as a scrawny kid, the slowest in my age group on swim team. I recall playing softball and being sometimes lovingly and sometimes meanly mocked for my “positive” way of encouraging each player up at bat.
I recall how my family never had new things. We never had new school supplies or clothes. We frequently window shopped – which meant looking and not buying. And if we did buy, it was at the discount Sears store, but most often we merely window shopped,…there. I recall our stopping at the day-old bakery to buy almost-gone goodies – where you were in a race with time to eat it before it molded. I still can recall the taste of moldy powdered doughnuts! I recall the way my Mom made a little last a long, long way – cutting mold off cheese, making milk from powder, and eating week-old leftovers.
I recall my hatred of sixth grade when I was bused to a magnet school for music – two hours there, two hours back – only to be a magnet for other’s abuse. I recall how the Assistant Principal at my middle school called me into her office one day to ask if I was okay. I was shocked that she could see how very depressed I was. Ostracized by my peers, I had learned to make friends with the friend-less, but I felt very alone.
And I can go on and on.
These experiences of pain and suffering make their indelible mark, do they not?
And yet, through-out all the food-stretching, I saw my mom make jam & the best cookies on the planet. We enjoyed dollar movies at the discount movie theater and my Mom would carry in all kinds of snacks for us to enjoy – smuggled in, in a baby diaper bag (long after diapers were a things of the past!).
Through-out all the school isolation, I did know friendship. I had a best friend in 1st grade, till she moved away. I had a best friend in 2nd and 3rd, until a new student convinced her that it was not okay for her, a black girl, to hang with me, a white girl. And in late middle school, a new girl transferred to the school who was already “pre-engaged” to a high schooler. It seemed she had done all the forbidden things, as she was from the countryside where it seemed folks had nothing else to do but drink and make out. So she started out at our school as a pariah, but she became my friend. And in high school, I finally made the best friend I’d ever had: Jane Trexler. She lived in my neighborhood & was the opposite of me. I was invisible. She was popular. I was shy. She was student body president. I was skin and bones. She looked lovely and mature. And we walked – walked around our neighborhood – we shared life and faith and friendship.
I did find my way.
I knew friendship.
I had food to eat.
I had shelter.
I was blessed.
What about you?
When you look back, what do you recall?
It is easiest to recall the pain. It is easiest to recall the injustice, the unfairness, the times we’ve felt slighted and hurt. That is natural.
But do we also recall the times we are blown away by God – like when my youth minister called me every morning at 6:30 am, just to pray with me?
Do we recall when we are surprised by God – like when my family went to the state fair and a church friend happened to show up, giving us free tickets?!
Do we recall when God rescues us from the disasters that the befall us – like when the Presbyterian Board of Pensions helped me pay unexpected medical bills?
Do we recall when God rescues us from the disasters we may bring on ourselves – like when God woke me up from my slumber and led me out of a marriage where I endured continual emotional abuse and was slowly dying to my true self?
Our God is alive.
Our God is moving.
God is showing up for each of us, in ways big and small.
But if we do not consciously REMEMBER this stories, TELL these stories, RECALL these stories…we forget. We become lost at sea – terrified by the next dark cloud up ahead.
THESE moments of God’s mighty provision, God’s mighty rescue, God’s mighty presence and power are touchstones – they are grounding, they are re-orienting, they put things into perspective, they bring the truth into focus.
If I only focus on the bad things I have endured, I have a big bone to pick with God. WHY did I have to endure such bullying, such ostracizing, such loneliness? WHY did I have to endure scarcity and want? WHY did I have to go through the breaking up of my family?
BUT when I choose to remember God’s acts through-out my life, I know God is with me. God’s hands are present – in comfort, in manna and quail, in prayer, in friendship, in growth, in meaning, in calling, in overcoming, in drawing me near! When I choose to remember God’s acts through-out my life, I see how very blessed I am. I see that God had the past, and that I can trust God for whatever may lie ahead.
REMEMBERING grounds us.
REMEMBERING sheds light on the truth.
REMEMBERING helps us not loose our way, through the stormy seas of life.
Like the Israelites, we too have been mightily blessed, mightily rescued, mightily known, mightily loved and called. But just like the Israelites, unless we choose to recall God’s mighty acts, we too become ungrateful, entitled, fearful, demanding,…lost.
We must choose remembrance.
We must choose to share.
We must choose to recall.
That’s what these gratitude stories have been about. For it is in building a spiritual practice of gratitude, that we remember and give thanks. And these are the stories that remind us who we are and whose we are.
May we be a people,
Chosen and beloved
Who remember and share,
The mighty acts of God.