Giving thanks even on the bad days

A Thanksgiving Eve Service used to be shared between the Lutherans and the Methodists in Chetek, one year Chetek Lutheran hosting and the following Chetek United Methodist, rotating back and forth as such for many years running. Somewhere along the way, however, things changed and it became a gathering open to any congregation in Chetek. This year with Pastor Norm in Georgia, Pastor Paul in South Dakota, Pastor Chris in Indiana and Pastor Scott in Minnesota, it fell to Pastor Guy from Chetek Lutheran and myself to facilitate the gathering and since Guy was hosting that meant I was up to bat to share the message. The following post is the gist of what I shared.

...

“I went to sleep with gum in my mouth and now there's gum in my hair and when I got out of bed this morning, I tripped on the skateboard and by mistake I dropped my sweater in the sink while the water was running and I could tell it was going to be a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day. At breakfast Anthony found a Corvette Sting Ray car kit in his breakfast cereal box and Nick found a Junior Undercover Agent code ring in his breakfast cereal box, but in my breakfast cereal box all I found was breakfast cereal. I think I'll move to Australia.”

So begins Judith Viorst's wonderful little book Alexander and the Horrible, Terrible, No Good, Very Bad Day. In it she shares the woes that beset an eight-year-old boy named Alexander throughout the course of a miserable day.

“There were two cupcakes in Philip Parker's lunch bag and Albert got a Hershey bar with almonds and Paul's mother gave him a piece of jelly roll that had little coconut sprinkles on the top. Guess whose mother forgot to put in dessert? It was a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day.”

“There were Lima beans for dinner and I hate Lima beans. There was kissing on TV and I hate kissing. My bath was too hot, I got soap in my eyes, my marble went down the drain, and I had to wear my railroad-train pajamas. I hate my railroad-train pajamas. When I went to bed Nick took back the pillow he said I could keep and the Mickey Mouse nightlight burned out and I bit my tongue. The cat wants to sleep with Anthony, not with me.”

We've all had days like that where nothing has gone right, where we wished had we to do it over could have just stayed in bed. We've all had months like that – seasons, really – where the math just doesn't add up, where it feels we've had more losses than wins. It makes me think of a card my mom sent me once that on the cover said, “In every life a little rain must fall” and upon opening it reads, “followed by damaging winds and hail.” Indeed.

I think Hallmark said it better. Just saying.

I'm a chaplain at the Barron County Jail and that means, among other things, that I lead a monthly worship service there, teach a quarterly class on the difference a father makes, and sit down from time to time with guys who so request a visit. When I think of Daniel Powter's song Bad Day – 'Cause you had a bad day. You're taking one down. You sing a sad song just to turn it around – I think of a guy named “Joe.”

Joe and I met after one of the worship services I led and we began to meet regularly at the jail for several months running. He enrolled in my class (as well as others there too), and over time made trustee (which is a big deal). Sandy, the Director of Inmate Services, helped him secure a job on the outside and because of “good” time he actually was let out early. It was Saturday morning and everything was looking up.

He got a ride to his new job (a saw mill) but when he showed up the mill was on fire – as in burning to the ground. Not only was there no work that day it was uncertain when the place would reopen. Strike 1. He was staying with his mom and that very day got into a heated argument with his mom's boyfriend. Strike 2. The very next morning (Sunday) he showed up at Refuge but Pastor Jeff happened to be on vacation. Despite a friendly plea from our greeter to stay anyway Joe left in a huff and in a mood. So he drove over to Barron to find an old “buddy” and we have a beer, then three, then six, now we smoke a few joints, now we're heading down Highway 25 to hook up with some girls and oh, by the way, the car is stolen, now we're leading the cops on a three county chase, higher than a kite, eventually crashing and running into someone's house. This is all in the course of one day of a guy who was released from jail the day before on an 8-year stayed and imposed sentence. That means when they catch you, you go directly to prison and you don't pass go. That's a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day.

Of course, I knew none of this at the time. The following week when I was up at the jail to see someone else I asked Sandy for Joe's contact information. As she went to retrieve that information and I watched her read the monitor of her computer I noticed her eyes get bigger and bigger and her mouth slowly open. After she relayed this all to me to say that I was upset is to sanitize that moment. Unbelievable. After months of weekly visits, Bible study, prayer, you're out one day and you totally self-destruct? I was livid and when Sandy very sweetly said to me, “Well, I guess Mr. Joe just has to learn a few things more,” my thoughts about that were less than godly.

When he was finally extradited back to Barron County prior to being sent down to Waupun, Sandy called me to let me know that Joe wanted to see me prior to being sent downstate. Frankly, I didn't want to see him. I didn't want to waste one more minute with this guy. But, of course, I went. That's what pastors do. But I was going to have a little heart-to-heart with Joe and I was going to give it to him with the bark on. As I sat in PV1 at the jail waiting for Joe to join me I once again rehearsed what I was going to blast him with. And then the door opened, and there stood Joe dejectedly and instantly God gave me his heart for him. He sat down in a heap and said, “Jeff, I'm just so, so, sorry....” But God is so good. He's so nice, as one preacher used to say. Because when the moment came to let him have it all I said was, “It's okay, Joe. God loves you and he's in the place they're sending you to so look for him there.” And I was able to give Joe a hug before he went south.

It makes me think of another inmate I met in the last year or so at the jail. “Sam” was a meth dealer and because he done his business across state lines when he first came to the jail he was looking at something that essentially would amount to a life-sentence. He also was a student in my class and we would meet regularly outside of class. He was a crack-baby. His mom had used heroine until the day he was born so before he even had taken a breath in this world Sam was already set up to fail. His dad was no better. He grew up in foster care. He made a lot of bad choices in his life and now will be in our penal system for many years to come. Let me read you a portion of a letter he sent me from Waupun a few months ago.

“I was able to get into a great weekly Bible study and an amazing worship service weekly. You know, it's an incredible moving of the Spirit when 100+ “hardened” criminals are in a chapel clapping lifting the Lord up in praise! My spirit just overflows every Thursday night when I'm in the service. I know and accept that God is working on me and in me right now! With the people he sends into my path. Maybe for a day or longer it just all points to God at work!! Believers are here mixed in with everything else. We are here and we tend to “gravitate” to one another Ya we still have “challenges” but we walk for and with the Lord each day!”

He closed his letter with 1Thessalonians 5:16-18: “Rejoice always, pray continually, give thanks in all circumstances for this is God's will for you in Christ Jesus.” Just to be clear: Joy is not happiness. I can start my day off happy, have a spat with Linda over something inconsequential, or get a flat tire on my way to Eau Claire which sends my perfectly planned day totally off course and I'm not happy anymore. No, joy is what one pastor calls bedrock-stuff. Joy is knowing God loves me and is with me no matter what. As we go about our day we are exhorted to have a prayerful mindset, bringing our concerns and frustrations and cares to the Lord who cares for us. And no matter if it is a good day or a bad day, whether in your breakfast cereal box there is just breakfast cereal, we are to give thanks in all things.

One of my favorite stories from The Hiding Place by Corrie ten Boom is how while interned at Ravensbrück concentration camp her older sister Betsie made Corrie make a mental list of all the things they should give thanks for. Corrie didn't want to but Betsie was insistent because, after all, the Scripture says to give thanks “in all circumstances” not just in pleasant ones. So Betsie began to name them, like, they were together and that somehow the guards had missed their pocket New Testament when they entered the camp. But when Betsie suggested giving thanks for Barracks 28, their dormitory, Corrie thought she had gone too far. After all, the crowded dorm was packed with women living in deplorable conditions and crawling with fleas. “In all things,” Betsie persisted so reluctantly Corrie muttered her thanks for the fleas.

Every night after receiving their meager bowl of turnip soup Betsie and Corrie would retreat to the back of the barracks and under the light of a wan single light bulb hold their evening worship gathering. This is how Corrie describes them:

“They were services like no others, these times in Barracks 28. A single meeting night might include a recital of the Magnificat in Latin by a group of Roman Catholics, a whispered hymn by some Lutherans, and a sotto-voce chant by Eastern Orthodox women. With each moment the crowd around us would swell, packing the nearby platforms, hanging over the edges, until the high structures groaned and swayed.”

“At last either Betsie or I would open the Bible. Because only the Hollanders could understand the Dutch text we would translate aloud in German. And then we would hear the life-giving words passed back along the aisles in French, Polish, Russian, Czech, back into Dutch. They were little previews of heaven, these evenings beneath the light bulb. I would think of Haarlem, each substantial church set behind its wrought-iron fence and its barrier of doctrine. And I would know again that in darkness Gods truth shines most clear.” (p. 201)

A few months later, Betsie had heard something that day which she later shared with Corrie. Betsie reflected upon the fact that she always found it remarkable the relative degree of freedom they enjoyed inside the barracks and then she overheard a guard that day refuse to enter on account of the fleas. These annoying, pestilent parasites were God's sentries standing post and insuring that at least in Barracks 28 the Word would continue to be shared with all who would listen.

Paul put it this way: “And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose.” (Rom 8:28, NIV). We can give thanks in all things because we know that God is at work in all the messy details of our life and by his grace and in his time he is bringing forth good even on those days where in frustration we wish we lived in Australia. But as Alexander's mother reminds him, “Some days are like that, even in Australia.”

Whispering our prayers

“It’s after midnight. The two youngest children are sleeping. You sneak out, dig up your Bible and bring it back inside. The curtains are pulled and very, very softly do you read to your wife and 16-year-old son. You’ve only recently shared the gospel with him. Now he’s old enough and wise enough not to accidentally betray you. Of course, he didn’t understand the gospel at first, but you’re teaching him. You’ve been praying for years that he’d be ready.”

“You read the Bible in the dark, you pray, the words are hardly audible. Do you sing in whispers? When you’re in a bold mood.”

“The Secret and Surprising Ways Christians Pray in North Korea” (from Open Doors, Secret and Surprising October 25, 2018)

Our fellowship has observed the International Day of Prayer for the Persecuted Church (IDOPPC) for over twenty years. While several advocacy groups like Open Doors (OD) and The Voice of the Martyrs (VOM) provide inserts, power points and video material to help a pastor facilitate this gathering, the main thing is that Christians here, who are free to gather and pray and worship to their heart's content without any fear of reprisal by either their neighbors or local government officials take time to pray for their brothers and sisters in Christ in other parts of the globe who persist in Christian faith despite it being culturally unpopular, illegal and, in some places, downright dangerous.

In this year's observance I had Olivia, a sixth grader, begin our time of prayer by reading the story of Peter's incarceration found in Acts 12. Herod, feeling the approval of his subjects for beheading James, brother of John and apostle of Jesus, has Peter arrested. His plan is to do him in the next day. Meanwhile, fearing for Peter's life, the "church prayed strenuously" (12:6, The Message). God answered their concerted prayers in a remarkable way: he sent an angel to break Peter out of Herod's prison. Though they had prayed for just this very thing, it took a while before they could believe their eyes when Peter stood in the middle of their gathering. The point for all of us is that we need to labor in prayer for those imprisoned on behalf of Jesus. Frankly, a lot of us while good at laboring aren't very good at laboring in prayer.

Ji Hyeon A, a North Korean defector, was forced to have an abortion
without anesthesia because of her faith prior to her defection

We then watched two short videos about the life of the faithful in North Korea. Given it's reputation, it should not be a surprise to us to learn that life is extremely challenging for believers there. To confess Christ as Lord is literally to risk life imprisonment at a labor camp or be killed by a North Korean hit squad. As a segue to our time of intercession I had LeAnne, one of our young moms, read Jesus' words found in John 15. On the night that he himself was betrayed by a dear friend he grimly reminded the disciples, "If you find the godless world is hating you, remember it got its start hating me. If you lived on the world’s terms, the world would love you as one of its own. But since I picked you to live on God’s terms and no longer on the world’s terms, the world is going to hate you"  (vv. 18-19). Jesus didn't want us to be disillusioned when the things that happened to him happened to us. Through the centuries and up to the present day Christians have suffered economic deprivation, incarceration, torture and death on account of the faith. But if these things happened to our Shepherd without shame, it would be naive of any of us to think we would receive better treatment simply because we live in a modern world.

North Korea is physically and spiritually in darkness

At Refuge, we do our Sunday-morning praying in a few different ways. Every Sunday the altar is open and people are encouraged to come forward during the course of worship and, if they are able, kneel to receive prayer. At least half of the Sundays in a given year we practice “open mic”-praying. As worship is concluding there is a mic on the floor where people are encouraged – and at times literally “volunteered” - to come to the mic and pray for one of the individuals or ministries listed on a prayer insert in our bulletin. But on the rest of the Sundays we break into “prayer circles”, groups of 5-7 people who are then encouraged to spend time praying for each other. (Honestly, if I put the matter to a vote, the prayer circle format would win every time against the open mic one such is the fear that people have of speaking publicly, even among friends.)

At this year's IDOPPC gathering, having listened to the Scriptures

and having watched the testimonials of a few Christians who have endured persecution in North Korea we were ready to begin interceding for them. I asked them to break into prayer circles and with the help of an insert provided by VOM spend time praying for the faithful but to do so while whispering. As a rule we are not shouters here despite the fact that a good many of us consider ourselves Pentecostals. Even at our most jubilant we keep things to a dull roar. But in honor of those who have to whisper their prayers regularly for their own safety, we spent about twenty minutes whispering ours. Speaking for myself and a few others there was something emotionally moving as I listened to the corporate murmuring of our fellowship praying concertedly for those we will never meet this side of eternity.

While I prayed in our prayer circle Daniel 2 came to mind. Nebuchadnezzar, sitting on his throne in Babylon, is troubled by a dream that both terrifies and perplexes him. Unable to make heads or tails of it he summons his wise men and demands they not only they interpret his dream but tell him what he saw (an impossible act). While whining with proper court decorum just how impossible a thing their sovereign has just commanded, a young Hebrew man and one of the exiles from Jerusalem is brought before him and incredibly tells Nebuchadnezzar just what he's asking for to a T.

The king, Daniel states matter-of-factly, saw a towering statue of a man made up of all kinds of alloys but ultimately as tall and impressive as it was in one moment it was destroyed completely.

“While you were looking at this statue, a stone cut out of a mountain by an invisible hand hit the statue, smashing its iron-ceramic feet. Then the whole thing fell to pieces—iron, tile, bronze, silver, and gold, smashed to bits. It was like scraps of old newspapers in a vacant lot in a hot dry summer, blown every which way by the wind, scattered to oblivion. But the stone that hit the statue became a huge mountain, dominating the horizon.” (vv. 34-35, Msg).

As Daniel continues with the interpretation he informs the king that every different part of the statue is a kingdom of the world that becomes increasingly more brittle in its consistency as it descends to the toes.

“But throughout the history of these kingdoms, the God of heaven

will be building a kingdom that will never be destroyed, nor will this kingdom ever fall under the domination of another. In the end it will crush the other kingdoms and finish them off and come through it all standing strong and eternal. It will be like the stone cut from the mountain by the invisible hand that crushed the iron, the bronze, the ceramic, the silver, and the gold. The great God has let the king know what will happen in the years to come.” (vv. 44-45)

The present ruling powers – powers like China, North Korea, Iran, and other places where Christians must whisper their prayers lest they be found out – as absolute as they seem today in their dominance will one day be blown away. That thought helped me to whisper a little louder my “Thy Kingdom come, Thy will be done.”

We wrapped up our time of whispering prayer by singing softly Chris Tomlin's song How Great Is Our God. There is something powerful when we quietly affirm together that whatever king or dictator or world leader would like to believe, his little kingdom is going to be ultimately replaced - crushed, really - by God's kingdom  which is coming in its fullness at the end of days.

To lead us back into worship, I had Olivia's older sister, Emily, a freshman in high school, read to us the story of Paul and Silas' imprisonment in Philippi as found in Acts 16. Despite being locked up for no good reason, despite being black and blue from the beating they had received, at midnight they chose to sing a "robust" hymn to God. A "robust" hymn is a hymn sung with gusto (which, admittedly, is not our strong suit either). But we must, as Paula, Olivia and Emily's mother, reminded all of us, because we can. 

Admittedly, if we personally knew some of those folks the intensity of our prayers would be greater. But there's the rub. While going about their daily lives and seeking to share the gospel with their friends and neighbors, they have to do so subtly and with great care. But God hears our whispers as much as our shouts and I have to believe that what we whispered here in our sanctuary a week or so ago, God heard loud and clear in this throne room and dispatched his angels to do comfort and empower those who continue to remain faithful to him.

Finding our way forward by looking backward

Count your blessings, name them one by one,Count your blessings, see what God has done!
Count your blessings, name them one by one,
Count your many blessings, see what God has done.

- from “Count Your Blessings” by Johnson Oatman, Jr

Johnson Oatman, Jr, while a licensed Methodist preacher, made his living selling life insurance. But his real claim to fame was in writing gospel music. In fact, by the time he died in 1922, he had written over three thousand hymns including The Hallelujah Side, Higher Ground, and Count Your Blessings. If 20 the Countdown Magazine had been around in 1897 Count Your Blessings would have been on it so popular was it then. To listen to it now, however, it seems so quaint and “old-folksy”. But if you could push the mute button on the gospel tune (which seems so antiquated to our ears so prone to hearing soulish angst these days) and just muse over the words, there is much to glean here:

When upon life’s billows you are tempest-tossed,
When you are discouraged, thinking all is lost,
Count your many blessings, name them one by one,
And it will surprise you what the Lord has done.

Hilda was a dear lady I used to visit on Friday afternoons in my early years of ministry in Chetek. She lived at the local nursing home and during our visits from time to time she would regale me with stories of hers and her late husband's life together and recount how God had provided for them again and again during the dark days of the Depression. It was Hilda who first taught me this song (I didn't grow up in a Gospel church; I grew up Lutheran and I don't think our pastors or our organist had ever heard of it).

While I'm not sure, Oatman may have been inspired to write his song after reading Psalm 77. At the beginning, the psalmist affirms loud and clear that he doesn't just call out to God; he yells and when he yells he does so "at the top of my lungs” (v.1, The Message). The result of all is yelling is that “God hears him.”

But then he explains why he can say this so certainly. His life was a mess, "an open wound that wouldn't heal". He speaks of wringing his hands in duress and being "awake all night - not a wink of sleep" so distraught is he. Awash in melancholy he strums his "lute all through the night, wondering" how to get his life together (vv. 2-6).

In short, the kind of funk he describes is a form of depression that has him so low that he bitterly complains, "Just my luck...The High God goes out of business just the moment I need him" (v. 10). Many of us can identify with him. Life can be pretty overwhelming sometimes and our circumstances can speak a lie to us that, if we allow ourselves, we may swallow hook, line and sinker: "God is not here. He is absent. In fact, maybe there isn't anything to this thing we call faith at all."

But about half-way through his lament, he finds a way forward by

looking backward:

Once again I’ll go over what God has done,
    lay out on the table the ancient wonders;
I’ll ponder all the things you’ve accomplished,
    and give a long, loving look at your acts. (vv. 11-12)

Yes, life has him down - and seemingly, out for the count. But he starts reflecting on God's acts in the past, reflecting on how God has worked on behalf of God's people in difficult days before and finds the hope he needs to rise above the despair that has him in a stranglehold. As he muses upon their history with God – the sea being pushed back in order that the people can make their escape from the chasing Egyptian army, God doing the same thing to the River Jordan at flood stage a generation later in order that they may pass into the land on dry ground – and suddenly a rush of adrenaline hits him:

O God! Your way is holy!
    No god is great like God!

You’re the God who makes things happen;
    you showed everyone what you can do— (vv. 13-14)

For many years running now our fellowship celebrates a day we

call “ThanksBRINGING”. It's a gathering in early November before the high holy days of gun deer season kick in. It's a service all about sharing thanks. The chairs are arranged in an oval so we can look at each other and after a few songs sung just to help everyone transition from life to sanctuary the main act of worship begins. The stories begin - stories of God's provision, God's comfort, God's help – and as people share their personal journeys in it we are reminded yet again that while life is messy, and at times, discombobulating God is good and He is faithful.

We are mostly introverts here (myself and few others excluded) so it usually takes a bit for the stories to percolate but eventually after over an hour or so I feel compelled to shut it down in order that we might finish at the table. The big loaf of bread and regular sized cups await us at the center of the sanctuary (for this gathering there is no piece of cracker and plastic shot glass of grape juice for communion; we're going to feast!). Families and couples come to the table for the elements and then return to their seats and share communion together.

Thomas is a refugee and a pastor from South Sudan

This year unexpectedly we had a family of refugees from South Sudan with us at the gathering. They are friends of a couple who worships regularly at our fellowship and while currently residing in North Dakota were in town for the weekend. Both Thomas and his wife, Joyce, shared stories in the gathering that morning of God's provision and safety in their lives. Also in the gathering was Elisardo, a temporary worker from Costa Rica, working at the rafter factory across the street from Refuge along with one of his co-workers, Pablo, from Belize.

Immediately following the gathering, we set up tables in the

Elisardo prays

sanctuary, get all the food out and sit down to an honest to goodness turkey dinner with all the fixings. Since we are The Refuge International I always like to ask guests from other countries (which we receive more than you would expect being so far up here in the woods) to pray in their native dialect as a way to “seed the atmosphere” and create a desire to pray for the nations here (who are closer to us than we care to admit). So I asked Pastor Thomas to pray over our meal and he led in Arabic for an extended time (clearly it was way more than “Lord, bless our meal together”). But since Eli was with us I asked him to pray as well and he led an equally lengthy prayer in Spanish. Our meal was deeply blessed and then we all sat down together in the presence of the Lord and enjoyed good fellowship along with good food, too.

Some years for ThanksBRINGING someone volunteers to serve as a recorder who writes what is shared so that when we need to be reminded we can turn to the book of testimony and recall how God has answered prayer and provided what we needed for the different seasons of our lives. Unfortunately, it didn't happen this year which is too bad because we heard some pretty good stories. If there is anything I took away from this year's gathering is that whether it is a hard season we are going through or a discouraging one we need to remind ourselves that God is with us and therefore we should not be afraid. Just like he led the people through the Sinai, hostile and forbidding thought it was, still today He leads his people “like a flock of sheep” (v. 20).

So, amid the conflict whether great or small,
Do not be discouraged, God is over all;
Count your many blessings, angels will attend,
Help and comfort give you to your journey’s end.