One of the truths of relationships is that a move toward someone, by risking self-disclosure, trusting them with a part of your life you share with trusted people, usually results in a corresponding move in your direction. I move toward you, you move toward me. If you move toward me, I am inclined to reciprocate. It is the basic stuff of human connectedness.
One November Saturday in 1979, I heard someone singing in the sanctuary of the Riverhills Church of God. At the time, I was teaching at Riverhills Christian School, operated by the church, in Tampa FL. I made a staggering $161.00 a week, if memory serves, and I worked part-time as the church janitor for some extra cash. That's why I was there on that Saturday.
I walked into the sanctuary through the side entrance, near the stage and I saw James Byrd, my pastor, sitting at the sound table in the back of the church. With earphones on, he was practicing his solo for the Christmas cantata, "His Love Reaching." I paused in my duties, unseen by the singer and listened to his clear baritone sing, "Love kept on longing, and Love kept on reaching, right past the shackles of my mind..." Believe me, it sounded wonderful.
I have thought of that moment and that song several times this week as I anticipate Christmas. Christmas is the story of God reaching for us, God coming to us, God with us. Emmanuel. Coming to us not because we were righteous, or good, or deserving, but because were weren't.
I meet people bound with skackles of their own everyday. You do too. It is easy to dismiss them, to catagorize them, to depersonalize them and dehumanize them. We can come up with all kinds of reasons why they may be entitled to healthcare, but not our care. But in my head I hear that song; Love longing...Love reaching. I am called to care, called to love. Christmas reminds me to move toward them, to reach out to them, to care for them and about them. That's what Love did. That's what Love does.
Merry Christmas
Jerald
Wednesday, December 23, 2009
Saturday, December 12, 2009
The Gift of Light
In the Pentecostal tradition, and indeed in many other conservative evangelical churches, there is an aversion to formal liturgy. "It has to come from the heart." "We don't need a program, we just let God have his way." But formal programs, liturgy and the experienced, powerful, presense of the Spirit are not mutually exclusive necessarily.
Having been powerfully influenced by spiriual spontaneity in the formation of my faith, I don't usally write out the prayers of invocation that I am often asked to do in my role as a hospital chaplain. Perhaps the only thing more powerful than this influence is my fear of making a fool of myself in front of a few thousand people. The latter won out and as I have for a few other "big" events" I wrote out a prayer of invocation for our hospital's annual Gift of Light celebration. I have not had such a reaction to a public prayer since I used the word "vicissitudes" in an invocation at my former place of employment seven or eight years ago. So, here it is.
Gift of Light 2009
Let us Pray.
Almighty God, who in beginning declared “Let there be light” we come to you.
O God who’s Light pierced the darkness and the darkness comprehended it not, we call out to you.
O Lord of Light, in whose presence no darkness dwells, we turn to you and humbly ask that you hear our prayer.
As in the beginning, Lord, where there is darkness, let there be Light.
In the darkness of hatred, let there be Light.
In the darkness of loneliness, let there be Light.
In the darkness of poverty, let there be Light.
In the darkness of sickness, let there be Light.
In the darkness of grief, let there be Light.
In the darkness of sin, let there be Light.
Indeed, God we pray above all else that in our own hearts, let there be Light. Let your Light shine, surround us with its glow and fill us with its love so that we become lights, dispelling the darkness.
This is our prayer. Amen.
Blessings to you all,
Jerald
Having been powerfully influenced by spiriual spontaneity in the formation of my faith, I don't usally write out the prayers of invocation that I am often asked to do in my role as a hospital chaplain. Perhaps the only thing more powerful than this influence is my fear of making a fool of myself in front of a few thousand people. The latter won out and as I have for a few other "big" events" I wrote out a prayer of invocation for our hospital's annual Gift of Light celebration. I have not had such a reaction to a public prayer since I used the word "vicissitudes" in an invocation at my former place of employment seven or eight years ago. So, here it is.
Gift of Light 2009
Let us Pray.
Almighty God, who in beginning declared “Let there be light” we come to you.
O God who’s Light pierced the darkness and the darkness comprehended it not, we call out to you.
O Lord of Light, in whose presence no darkness dwells, we turn to you and humbly ask that you hear our prayer.
As in the beginning, Lord, where there is darkness, let there be Light.
In the darkness of hatred, let there be Light.
In the darkness of loneliness, let there be Light.
In the darkness of poverty, let there be Light.
In the darkness of sickness, let there be Light.
In the darkness of grief, let there be Light.
In the darkness of sin, let there be Light.
Indeed, God we pray above all else that in our own hearts, let there be Light. Let your Light shine, surround us with its glow and fill us with its love so that we become lights, dispelling the darkness.
This is our prayer. Amen.
Blessings to you all,
Jerald
Tuesday, December 8, 2009
Blessed With Needs
Glimmers
December 4, 2009
“You say, 'I am rich; I have acquired wealth and do not need a thing.' But you do not realize that you are wretched, pitiful, poor, blind and naked.” (Rev. 3:17 NIV)
My Pastor, who I assert is wise well beyond his 35 years of age, is currently preaching a sermon series called “Blessed.” One of the points he made in his last sermon was that we have been blessed with needs. Blessed with needs? The very thought flies into the face of reason. Wouldn’t we be better blessed to be free of needs? Wouldn’t it be great to have no worries? Wouldn’t it be wonderful to be self-sufficient and need nothing from anyone and to have no one else who needed anything from us? HALLELUJAH! Actually, no it wouldn’t.
If you have seen the movie Castaway starring Tom Hanks, you will remember that he was the only survivor of a plane crash that left him alone on a small, remote island. He had learned how to fish, to provide his own shelter, and he learned how to make a fire to keep himself warm. He even learned how to be his own dentist! But he couldn’t learn how to live alone. His need for an “other” caused him to personify a volleyball and name it Wilson. Ultimately, his need for real companionship drove him to leave the island.
Needs, and our relentless pursuit to meet those gnawing, aching, longings are cleverly disguised blessings. They make us truly human. They drive us to one another, to giving and receiving, to blessing others and being blessed by them. They drive us to acts of compassion for others in need and inspire thanksgiving and gratitude for our own needs that have been met by the actions of others.
Strange as it may seem, having no needs is the greatest poverty of all.
Blessings to you all,
Jerald
December 4, 2009
“You say, 'I am rich; I have acquired wealth and do not need a thing.' But you do not realize that you are wretched, pitiful, poor, blind and naked.” (Rev. 3:17 NIV)
My Pastor, who I assert is wise well beyond his 35 years of age, is currently preaching a sermon series called “Blessed.” One of the points he made in his last sermon was that we have been blessed with needs. Blessed with needs? The very thought flies into the face of reason. Wouldn’t we be better blessed to be free of needs? Wouldn’t it be great to have no worries? Wouldn’t it be wonderful to be self-sufficient and need nothing from anyone and to have no one else who needed anything from us? HALLELUJAH! Actually, no it wouldn’t.
If you have seen the movie Castaway starring Tom Hanks, you will remember that he was the only survivor of a plane crash that left him alone on a small, remote island. He had learned how to fish, to provide his own shelter, and he learned how to make a fire to keep himself warm. He even learned how to be his own dentist! But he couldn’t learn how to live alone. His need for an “other” caused him to personify a volleyball and name it Wilson. Ultimately, his need for real companionship drove him to leave the island.
Needs, and our relentless pursuit to meet those gnawing, aching, longings are cleverly disguised blessings. They make us truly human. They drive us to one another, to giving and receiving, to blessing others and being blessed by them. They drive us to acts of compassion for others in need and inspire thanksgiving and gratitude for our own needs that have been met by the actions of others.
Strange as it may seem, having no needs is the greatest poverty of all.
Blessings to you all,
Jerald
Saturday, November 21, 2009
Thanksgiving Edition
Glimmers
November 20, 2009
"I thank my God every time I remember you..." (Phil. 1:3, NASV)
Last night my wife asked me to get the little pilgrim salt and pepper shakers, napkin holder and spoon rest from the top shelf of the cabinet above the oven. They are from the collection Publix supermarket used to sell, now discontinued, I'm sad to say. Thanksgiving preparations have begun in earnest at the Smith house.
That got me thinking about being thankful. As I began thinking this through on my morning walk, I thought about the farmer who got up at 4 a.m. to milk the cows that produced the milk I put in my morning coffee. Our society is so removed from the production of the things we use everyday, I’ll bet there are people who don’t even know milk comes from cows. Some people are so confused about it they think the chicken in those Chick-fil-A commercials comes from those Holsteins carrying the sign, “Eat mor chikn.” But chicken doesn’t come from cows, beef does. And besides, those are DAIRY cows. Hello!
This ignorance about where things come from is boldly displayed at the fast food restaurants that proclaim their burgers are from “100% Angus beef.”Angus cows are just beef cows with black hair. I suspect the beef from red Santa Gertrudis or gray Brahman or white Charolais cows is just as good, they just need better marketing. But I digress. The point is how many things have you used today that someone else worked very hard to produce? How many others gave their time and expertise in the doing of their jobs so that you could do yours? At the risk of missing some of the hundreds of people involved, allow me to illustrate. I’ll begin with arriving at work this morning, just to keep it simple.
I parked my car and before I could lock the doors, a volunteer driving the shuttle arrived and asked if I needed a ride. I noticed the grounds were neatly trimmed, thanks guys! The South entrance door opened automatically, thank you Business Office for paying FPL. Thank you to HIS for coding the procedures so the Business Office could bill for them to receive payment so we could pay FPL. I saw clean floors because environmental services had worked hard overnight to scrub, polish and vacuum them. I unlocked the door to my office and turned on my computer. Thank you Information Systems! I took the daily census and referrals off the printer to start planning my day. Admitting, nursing, and clinical informatics all had a hand in that. So many people to thank already and I had barely begun the day!
Now think about your job. Who ordered the gloves, prepared the meds, cooked the food, restocked linens, mopped the floors, drew the labs, took the Xrays, did the surgery, filed the reports, input the data, delivered the meals, transported the patient from the OR, and…well I think you get the picture. We all have hundreds of others to thank for their contributions to our being able to do our jobs.
Between now and Thanksgiving Day, how about telling some of them thanks for doing what they do so you have the opportunity to do what you do. And remember, as my minister likes to say, “Teamwork makes the dream work.”
Happy Thanksgiving!
Jerald
November 20, 2009
"I thank my God every time I remember you..." (Phil. 1:3, NASV)
Last night my wife asked me to get the little pilgrim salt and pepper shakers, napkin holder and spoon rest from the top shelf of the cabinet above the oven. They are from the collection Publix supermarket used to sell, now discontinued, I'm sad to say. Thanksgiving preparations have begun in earnest at the Smith house.
That got me thinking about being thankful. As I began thinking this through on my morning walk, I thought about the farmer who got up at 4 a.m. to milk the cows that produced the milk I put in my morning coffee. Our society is so removed from the production of the things we use everyday, I’ll bet there are people who don’t even know milk comes from cows. Some people are so confused about it they think the chicken in those Chick-fil-A commercials comes from those Holsteins carrying the sign, “Eat mor chikn.” But chicken doesn’t come from cows, beef does. And besides, those are DAIRY cows. Hello!
This ignorance about where things come from is boldly displayed at the fast food restaurants that proclaim their burgers are from “100% Angus beef.”Angus cows are just beef cows with black hair. I suspect the beef from red Santa Gertrudis or gray Brahman or white Charolais cows is just as good, they just need better marketing. But I digress. The point is how many things have you used today that someone else worked very hard to produce? How many others gave their time and expertise in the doing of their jobs so that you could do yours? At the risk of missing some of the hundreds of people involved, allow me to illustrate. I’ll begin with arriving at work this morning, just to keep it simple.
I parked my car and before I could lock the doors, a volunteer driving the shuttle arrived and asked if I needed a ride. I noticed the grounds were neatly trimmed, thanks guys! The South entrance door opened automatically, thank you Business Office for paying FPL. Thank you to HIS for coding the procedures so the Business Office could bill for them to receive payment so we could pay FPL. I saw clean floors because environmental services had worked hard overnight to scrub, polish and vacuum them. I unlocked the door to my office and turned on my computer. Thank you Information Systems! I took the daily census and referrals off the printer to start planning my day. Admitting, nursing, and clinical informatics all had a hand in that. So many people to thank already and I had barely begun the day!
Now think about your job. Who ordered the gloves, prepared the meds, cooked the food, restocked linens, mopped the floors, drew the labs, took the Xrays, did the surgery, filed the reports, input the data, delivered the meals, transported the patient from the OR, and…well I think you get the picture. We all have hundreds of others to thank for their contributions to our being able to do our jobs.
Between now and Thanksgiving Day, how about telling some of them thanks for doing what they do so you have the opportunity to do what you do. And remember, as my minister likes to say, “Teamwork makes the dream work.”
Happy Thanksgiving!
Jerald
Thursday, October 22, 2009
Seeing the invisible
Glimmers
October 22, 2009
“It was by faith that Moses left the land of Egypt, not fearing the king’s anger. He kept right on going because he kept his eyes on the one who is invisible.” Hebrews 11:27 (NLT)
It is funny how one thought leads to another, then another and another. Sometimes I try to stop where I am in the thinking process and retrace the mental steps that led me to the current thought. The caboose on today’s thought train was the George Strait song “I Saw God Today.”
Just walked down the street to the coffee shop
Had to take a break
I’d been by her side for eighteen hours straight
Saw a flower growin’ in the middle of the sidewalk
Pushin’ up through the concrete
Like it was planted right there for me to see
The flashin’ lights, the honkin’ horns
All seemed to fade away
In the shadow of that hospital at 5:08
I saw God today (Rodney Clawson; Monty Criswell; Wade Kirby)
I got to George Strait’s song from a prior thought I read in Philip Yancey's book, Prayer. Yancey said as he looks for God in the everydayness of life, “aha” moments “catch me by surprise: a surge of gratitude, a pang of compassion. But they catch me, I have learned, only when I am looking for them,” (Prayer, p. 183).
I have come to believe we can indeed see the One “who is invisible.” I know it is subjective and not objective and that my “seeing” is an act of faith, an interpretation of what I see. In this hospital, I get glimpses of God from time to time.Yesterday I saw God in the face mother’s grief, a young woman’s heart for soldiers far from home, a co-worker’s courage in the face of illness, a volunteer’s determination to be God’s loving presence for a difficult patient and a housekeeper who is as gracious as her name.
What do you see?
Blessings to you all,
Jerald
October 22, 2009
“It was by faith that Moses left the land of Egypt, not fearing the king’s anger. He kept right on going because he kept his eyes on the one who is invisible.” Hebrews 11:27 (NLT)
It is funny how one thought leads to another, then another and another. Sometimes I try to stop where I am in the thinking process and retrace the mental steps that led me to the current thought. The caboose on today’s thought train was the George Strait song “I Saw God Today.”
Just walked down the street to the coffee shop
Had to take a break
I’d been by her side for eighteen hours straight
Saw a flower growin’ in the middle of the sidewalk
Pushin’ up through the concrete
Like it was planted right there for me to see
The flashin’ lights, the honkin’ horns
All seemed to fade away
In the shadow of that hospital at 5:08
I saw God today (Rodney Clawson; Monty Criswell; Wade Kirby)
I got to George Strait’s song from a prior thought I read in Philip Yancey's book, Prayer. Yancey said as he looks for God in the everydayness of life, “aha” moments “catch me by surprise: a surge of gratitude, a pang of compassion. But they catch me, I have learned, only when I am looking for them,” (Prayer, p. 183).
I have come to believe we can indeed see the One “who is invisible.” I know it is subjective and not objective and that my “seeing” is an act of faith, an interpretation of what I see. In this hospital, I get glimpses of God from time to time.Yesterday I saw God in the face mother’s grief, a young woman’s heart for soldiers far from home, a co-worker’s courage in the face of illness, a volunteer’s determination to be God’s loving presence for a difficult patient and a housekeeper who is as gracious as her name.
What do you see?
Blessings to you all,
Jerald
Friday, October 9, 2009
Holding on-letting go
Glimmers
October 9, 2009
“Love must be sincere. Hate what is evil; cling to what is good.” Romans 12:9
The car was packed with all my earthly possessions and I was anxious to get on the road to my new life in Tampa, FL. I had spent the summer after college graduation in Atlanta working as a desk clerk for the Holiday Inn on I 20 East. A new job, new apartment, new city and new life were waiting and I could wait no longer. My Mother came out of the house carrying a box. “Here, this belonged to your Daddy.” My Dad had died ten years earlier when I was twelve. Inside the box was a gray Bradford cowboy hat. I took it with me to Tampa and to everywhere else I have lived ever since. I could not think of parting with it, even though I never wear it. Well, I did wear it once, but only for a sermon illustration. I look rather goofy in a cowboy hat. It is one of the few possessions I have that belonged to him and it helps me feel connected to him in a tangible kind of way. I can take it out of the box, look at it, touch it and it helps me to remember.
I also remember a Thanksgiving years ago, how many I am not sure, when my Mom placed the turkey on the table, picked up her J. C. Penney electric knife and said, “How ‘bout you carve the turkey.” To me, it was a passage, an invitation to adulthood. After her death in 2001, it was the only thing that belonged to her that I really wanted. I still have it. It still works perfectly and through it, she is present with us at every Thanksgiving and Christmas.
As with most people, I don’t like all the things my parents gave me. All the memories are not good. My parents were imperfect. I give them credit. They did the best they could. But some of their ways were not emotionally healthy and I struggle to relate to those I love in better ways than those I learned growing up. Struggle is the right word because it is just that. Choosing differently takes some work.
Believe it or not, the holidays are just around the corner. Memories will fill the air along with the aromas of the holiday feast and the carols. Some of your memories may be painful. Some things you may not wish to carry forward with you as you go. Some things you couldn’t possibly part with. We get to choose what we want to keep and what we want to let go. Let go of the hurts and disappointments. Like my parents, your loved ones were human too. Forgive them if you need to. Forgive yourself if you need to. But hold on to the good stuff.
Blessings to you all,
Jerald
October 9, 2009
“Love must be sincere. Hate what is evil; cling to what is good.” Romans 12:9
The car was packed with all my earthly possessions and I was anxious to get on the road to my new life in Tampa, FL. I had spent the summer after college graduation in Atlanta working as a desk clerk for the Holiday Inn on I 20 East. A new job, new apartment, new city and new life were waiting and I could wait no longer. My Mother came out of the house carrying a box. “Here, this belonged to your Daddy.” My Dad had died ten years earlier when I was twelve. Inside the box was a gray Bradford cowboy hat. I took it with me to Tampa and to everywhere else I have lived ever since. I could not think of parting with it, even though I never wear it. Well, I did wear it once, but only for a sermon illustration. I look rather goofy in a cowboy hat. It is one of the few possessions I have that belonged to him and it helps me feel connected to him in a tangible kind of way. I can take it out of the box, look at it, touch it and it helps me to remember.
I also remember a Thanksgiving years ago, how many I am not sure, when my Mom placed the turkey on the table, picked up her J. C. Penney electric knife and said, “How ‘bout you carve the turkey.” To me, it was a passage, an invitation to adulthood. After her death in 2001, it was the only thing that belonged to her that I really wanted. I still have it. It still works perfectly and through it, she is present with us at every Thanksgiving and Christmas.
As with most people, I don’t like all the things my parents gave me. All the memories are not good. My parents were imperfect. I give them credit. They did the best they could. But some of their ways were not emotionally healthy and I struggle to relate to those I love in better ways than those I learned growing up. Struggle is the right word because it is just that. Choosing differently takes some work.
Believe it or not, the holidays are just around the corner. Memories will fill the air along with the aromas of the holiday feast and the carols. Some of your memories may be painful. Some things you may not wish to carry forward with you as you go. Some things you couldn’t possibly part with. We get to choose what we want to keep and what we want to let go. Let go of the hurts and disappointments. Like my parents, your loved ones were human too. Forgive them if you need to. Forgive yourself if you need to. But hold on to the good stuff.
Blessings to you all,
Jerald
Friday, September 25, 2009
The Night People
Reply |Smith, Jerald
show details 12:35 PM (6 hours ago)
Glimmers
September 24, 2009
11:01 p.m.
Night people are different. I don’t know if they are different inherently, or psychologically, or if it is the night schedule that makes them seem one-off. They live in an out of synch world. Most people, including those in their own families, are Day People. Normal People. Some Night People work days too and only have to work nights every once in a while. Some of them work nights all the time because they have to for reasons of job availability, or because of sharing child rearing duties with their spouse. Some do it because they want to. For the life of me, I can’t understand the latter group. It’s only 11:00 p.m. and I feel like a zombie.
I grab the bag full of candy bars, gum, M&Ms and lifesavers and become a one-man rounding team. Rounding is a fun way to interact with hospital staff, give them a treat and leave them with a smile. The night people are surprised to see me. “What are you doing here this late?” or some variation thereof. “I came to hang out with my night peeps,” I say. They laugh because it sounds so un-cool when I say it. But they laugh. Laughter seems to come easily to the Night People. There is a sort of camaraderie among them. Kind of like that of frat boys who survived the hazing or soldiers who went through boot camp together. “We’re strong, we’re invincible. We’re the Night People.” “I’m here for the third shift dinner at 2,” I say. “Don’t forget.” The thought of hot food, freshly prepared, brings a smile.
The hospital is a different place at night. Some strange sort of alchemy transforms the daytime hustle and bustle, generalized and sometimes frenetic, to islands of busyness surrounded by an ocean of calm. Our four-story atrium, Grand Central during the day, is an empty cavern. Someone is in radiology. They have to be. But they are out of public view at the moment. There are no patients being transported from hospital rooms to procedures in nuke med, CAT scan or MRI. Most patients are sleeping or watching TV as I glance in the rooms . The pace of testing and procedures has slowed for now. Except for the Emergency Department. It keeps on humming and it keeps the machines humming too.
In a few hours the early morning labs will begin, heralding the coming dawn. Shifts will change and the Day People, in synch with their natural circadian rhythms, will take the helm once more.
So here’s to the Night People. Black out the windows. Pull up the covers. Get some sleep. We’re going to need you again in a few hours. And thanks.
Blessings to you all,
Jerald
show details 12:35 PM (6 hours ago)
Glimmers
September 24, 2009
11:01 p.m.
Night people are different. I don’t know if they are different inherently, or psychologically, or if it is the night schedule that makes them seem one-off. They live in an out of synch world. Most people, including those in their own families, are Day People. Normal People. Some Night People work days too and only have to work nights every once in a while. Some of them work nights all the time because they have to for reasons of job availability, or because of sharing child rearing duties with their spouse. Some do it because they want to. For the life of me, I can’t understand the latter group. It’s only 11:00 p.m. and I feel like a zombie.
I grab the bag full of candy bars, gum, M&Ms and lifesavers and become a one-man rounding team. Rounding is a fun way to interact with hospital staff, give them a treat and leave them with a smile. The night people are surprised to see me. “What are you doing here this late?” or some variation thereof. “I came to hang out with my night peeps,” I say. They laugh because it sounds so un-cool when I say it. But they laugh. Laughter seems to come easily to the Night People. There is a sort of camaraderie among them. Kind of like that of frat boys who survived the hazing or soldiers who went through boot camp together. “We’re strong, we’re invincible. We’re the Night People.” “I’m here for the third shift dinner at 2,” I say. “Don’t forget.” The thought of hot food, freshly prepared, brings a smile.
The hospital is a different place at night. Some strange sort of alchemy transforms the daytime hustle and bustle, generalized and sometimes frenetic, to islands of busyness surrounded by an ocean of calm. Our four-story atrium, Grand Central during the day, is an empty cavern. Someone is in radiology. They have to be. But they are out of public view at the moment. There are no patients being transported from hospital rooms to procedures in nuke med, CAT scan or MRI. Most patients are sleeping or watching TV as I glance in the rooms . The pace of testing and procedures has slowed for now. Except for the Emergency Department. It keeps on humming and it keeps the machines humming too.
In a few hours the early morning labs will begin, heralding the coming dawn. Shifts will change and the Day People, in synch with their natural circadian rhythms, will take the helm once more.
So here’s to the Night People. Black out the windows. Pull up the covers. Get some sleep. We’re going to need you again in a few hours. And thanks.
Blessings to you all,
Jerald
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