Night of Despair

Hi Friends, this is Pastor Kathy. Find a recorded video of this sermon here.

First, a Content Warning: Please be advised that this message contains references to depression and death by suicide. So, if you need to take a break, know that this will still be here when you are ready.

You are loved. 

If you hear nothing else in this sermon. Hear this. You. Are. Loved.

This is a Good Friday Message. You might be reading this on the calendar date of Good Friday, or you might be in your own Good Friday season. I hope this message finds you when you need it. 

On Good Friday we mark Jesus’s death by crucifixion on the cross. Jesus hung to death on a tree by the state. We grieve Christ’s death, we wait this evening and all tomorrow and into the late watches of Saturday night, waiting for Christ to break the chains of death, emerge from his borrowed tomb, and call his friends by name in the garden. 

But we are not there yet. Today, we sit in lament. 

Today we hear Christ call from the cross, 

“‘Eli, Eli, lema sabachthani?’ that is, 

‘My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?’” (Matthew 27:46/Psalm 22:1) 

As Christ calls out, quoting the words of a Psalm as he is about to die, we hear the human despair that even God can hold. 

And so Jesus dies, crucified with bandits, left in agony and suspended under the sky. 

Jesus descends to death. 

In Matthew’s Gospel, Jesus is not the only one who dies on Good Friday. 

So does Judas. 

Judas, who betrays Jesus with a kiss.

Judas, who sells out his friend for a bag of 30 silver pieces.

Judas, who sits and eats at the table that becomes the institution of the Lord’s Supper, only to leave into the falling night to deliver his friend into death. 

Judas. 

We read, in Matthew:

When Judas, his betrayer, saw that Jesus was condemned, he repented and brought back the thirty pieces of silver to the chief priests and the elders. 

He said, “I have sinned by betraying innocent blood.” 

But they said, “What is that to us? See to it yourself.” 

Throwing down the pieces of silver in the temple, he departed; and he went and hanged himself. 

Matthew 27:3-5 NRSV

The Word of the Lord.

Ok. There have been a bunch of different ways of interpreting Judas’s death by suicide. 

For that matter, there are a lot of different ways of seeing death by suicide. And I want to tread carefully here. Because across church history, especially, we’ve had multiple different ways of understanding death, grace, forgiveness, repentance, punishment, and atonement. Each of these ideas alone are huge in themselves. And so I want to tenderly hold this conversation, and put forth some questions, some ideas, and some hope. 

I don’t offer definitive statements, only wonder. 

And for that, I think I need to step back to speak to the looming issue of death by suicide itself, and the underlying despair that surrounds it. 

Because if we’re talking about a particular death by suicide, one that is recounted in the Gospel, then where is that good news? 

And if we are talking about death by suicide, we need to talk about depression, because we don’t talk about it enough. 

So, I wanna talk about depression. 

Depression is an illness. It’s a mental illness. But using the word mental does not mean that it is just in one’s head. It’s an illness that can affect the whole body. It’s not something one can just “happy” their way out of. It’s not a sin, and it’s not a moral failure. It’s a condition. And it’s treatable like many medical conditions with medication, with addressing underlying causes, and counseling or therapy. 

But something that makes depression so difficult to deal with is it’s elusive nature.

High blood pressure or an elevated A1C count are markable conditions that have evidence based treatments, that can be monitored with looking at numbers. Not that treating an elevated A1C count is simple, or easy, but at least it is measurable. 

Depression is… not.

Not in the same way. 

Depression, even though it is not something that is not just in your head, is still often incredibly subjective. 

Often dependent on the ability of the person who is suffering to adequately name their needs, in a condition that often leads the individual suffering to deny that their needs are relevant. 

This is one of the lies that depression loves to perpetuate. Depression often lies about the person’s worth, validity, or purpose. 

It’s why the downward spiral is so dangerous, because as the person who suffers falls deeper into the unbearable weight of nothingness, the nothingness weighs ever more heavy. 

Depression can be different for many different people, and if you or someone you care about is spiraling down into the depths, where one feels forsaken, even by God, please get help. There is information about how to access help in the video description. 

Depression lies. Depression can tell the lie that the hurt will never end. That the depths are inescapable. That the downward spiral has no way up. 

Depression can lead to despair. 

And despair, in the context of depression and other forms of mental illness, can lead to considerations of how to end the unfathomable pain. 

Which can lead to death by suicide. 

Which is a tragedy. A loss. 

But is not the fault of the one who dies. 

Or of the family of the one who dies. Or the friends. 

Death by suicide is a symptom 

of the brokenness of the world. 

I want to bring us back to Judas and Jesus. 

Judas betrays Jesus. We are clear there. 

Judas had believed the lies that the religious leaders murmured about Jesus.

But then, there’s this odd little bit in the middle of Jesus’ passion story, the story of Jesus’ death, with the focus not on Jesus and the events of his trial and crucification, but of the betrayer and what happens to him. 

Something happens as Judas sees his friend condemned to death. The bag of coins grows heavy in his hands. 

Judas returns to the chief priests and elders with his payment, his compensation for his betrayal. 

This heaviness leads him to repent, and throw the coins to the floor of the temple. 

Judas realizes he has sinned, and he turns away in despair. 

And he goes, and dies hanging. 

And we don’t know what happens. 

But. The unknowing of what happens opens the possibilities of what could happen. [Barth CD II.2 476]

Because here’s the thing. Even in this, grace is possible. 

Folks in the church throughout history have wondered if Jesus and Judas meet in death when they both die that friday afternoon. 

Jesus died. 

And in dying, Jesus meets us in death. 

Even in death by suicide. 

Jesus holds the keys of death. (Revelation 1:18)

All is not lost.

God’s Grace is greater than death. 

Even in death by suicide. Especially in Death by suicide.

God’s love stretches out across time and space, through death and into life. 

And Christ, dying on the cross on Good Friday, crying out in despair, “God! Why have you forsaken me?!” holds all that we have cried out in our own despairing seasons. 

Judas, in his confession of the innocence of Jesus, testifies to the truth of Christ’s identity, even in the midst of the lies of the religious leaders. 

And even as Judas crashes into the depths of despair, and dies in the same afternoon as his friend, whose death he facilitated, God’s love is greater than this. 

I don’t know what happened to Judas. I don’t think we can know. 

But I do know that Jesus’ love is greater than death. Even death by suicide. 

Jesus’ love is so deep that Jesus washed Judas’s feet on the night of the betrayal. Jesus served and shared a meal with him as friends. 

I know that God’s grace pursues us through our deepest spirals of despair.

I know that Hope does not depend on what lies depression yearns to weave as it works to convince us of our own worthlessness. 

You are worthy of love. Not by your own merit. We don’t earn this love. But we are loved all the same, by the one who creates us and calls us into being. 

As a community, God calls us to hold each other together, so that when the lies of depression begin to ring loudly in the ears of those who despair, the call of the community sharing the love of Jesus sounds louder still. But even when the call is lost, God’s love continues. 

For some of us, there will be days where it seems that hope is lost. 

Where it feels like there is nothing to do but escape. 

If you or someone you love has felt this lost, even to the point of considering death by suicide, know that God’s grace is deeper than the depths of your despair. 

Even there, God’s grace, hope, and love are waiting, down in the depths of the valley of the shadow of death. 

Death is not final. 

Love is.

Love holds the whole world in outstretched arms.

Love holds hope and hopelessness. 

Love holds joy and despair. 

Love does not shrink from our big feelings.

Even despair, depression, or death by suicide. 

Love holds even those who die alone. 

God is not afraid of finding us, of loving us, even if it is when we meet in death. God weeps with us. 

Jesus stretched out his arms on the cross, cried out in despair, descended to death, and holds the keys of hell. Death is not the end. 

Love holds the whole world in outstretched arms.

And that means, you, too. You are loved. 

God loves you, I love you. We love you. Jesus loves you. 

God holds you with love that reaches past all boundaries. 

God’s grace extends as an invitation to us all. 

You are loved. 

God loves you.

Can you pray with me? 

God of Grace and Mercy, your love is deeper than the depths of despair, and your grace extends into death itself. Be with those who are in the valley of the shadow of death, who despair of your presence. Be with them in the quiet watches of the night, and in the unflinching glare of the day. Make your presence known, embrace them with your love, and surround them with people who will support them and share a love louder than the lies of depression. In your wisdom, draw us close to Jesus, who died so that we might have life in the power of the Holy Spirit. All these things we pray in Jesus name,  Amen. 

If you or a loved one is in crisis, please call the crisis prevention hotline at 988. 

Depression lies. You can get help. 

We love you, God loves you, and we are glad you are here.

Peace be with y’all. Good bye. 

Good Enough

Its a little meta, but I am being good enough at having grace for myself. 

I’ve been listening to a lot of Kate Bowler’s Podcast, Everything Happens and her main point is that there’s no winning at life. She asks: what happens when you can’t “live your best life now” and really does a great job at deflating that concept in the first place. 

It’s really healthy for me to listen to. 

Because I’m not what I considered to be an over-achiever, and I really didn’t think that I was obsessed with perfection or anything, but because I picked up some messages along the way that excellence was the only measuring tool for accomplishments, and I also keep thinking I have to accomplish something or my life isn’t worth something.

Which is all shit, by the way.

I don’t need to publish a book in order to be a full person. 

I don’t need a raise to show that my call to ministry is valid. 

I don’t need to cook a particular diet of food to prove that I understand nutrition and all it’s facets, and I don’t have to get every new recipe perfect the first time I try it. 

I don’t need to spend at least three hours a day outside with my kids a day to be a good parent. 

I don’t need to attend every protest in a hundred mile radius to be a good advocate for justice.

I don’t need to lose those ten or fifteen pounds that I lost when I was significantly unhealthy and unable to care for my body well. (That wasn’t a healthy body… it just looked like it could have been. Or maybe what normative/opressive beauty norms say are right.)

I don’t need to have sex every night with my husband to be in a healthy, committed, romantic relationship with him.

I don’t need to keep up with twenty people and know how they are to the depths of their souls in order to have friendships and connections with my community.

Sometimes the pictures are misleading. (Scratch that.) The pictures can only ever show a part. And there are some things that will never be able to be captured in a photo still. 

Life isn’t a series of stills stitched together linearly to describe a progression. 

Life can be cyclical. Life can be dark. Life can be found in the quiet moments. Life can be found in an expression and glance exchanged over the dinner table. 

I think I feel like sometime soon someone is going to ask me what I want to do with my life, and I want to say, this… but… maybe with a particular thing added. But if I add something, it’s not because this, whatever this is, isn’t enough. It will be different. The balance will shift, an exchange will be made, and I will figure out a new pattern with the people I live my life with. 

And I want to begin what ever I start doing with the expectation up front that I am not trying to be perfect, but I am endeavoring to be whole. 

But first, I think I’m going to go eat another cookie and get another sticky hug from Roar. 

I Love You

I love you. 

We might not have met yet, but. 

I love you.

I love you because you are made in the image of God. 

God knit you together in the womb of your mother and loved you and said you were very good. Supremely good. God loves you and I am working on learning from God. 

And so, I love you.

God says you are worthy of love. God says you are worthy of friendship and welcome and grace. It is part of your intrinsic being, no matter what you do or say. God loves you and wants you to share that love with those around you, so that you can experience even more the way that God loves you. And I want to keep learning about how God loves. 

As I learn, I love you. 

God is the only one who is perfect. God is the one who gave a perfect son to show us how love can be perfected in life here on earth, and I am working each day to be made perfect in love. I don’t expect to get it right today, tomorrow, or next year, but that doesn’t give me a reason not to work at it right now. I’m trying to love the way God loves. 

Loved, I love you.

If we are strangers, if we have never had the chance to meet and share around a table and celebrate that God loves us the way we are, I hope and pray you would give me a chance to show you how much God loves you by loving you in my own imperfect way. I won’t always get it right. I will make mistakes. I have scars and wounds and memories of times when I didn’t feel loved. 

But, or even because of these things… 

I will love you. 

Does Spiritual Growth for Parents Pause While Kids Grow?

TL;DR: I invite you and your kids to come on a retreat.

Roar and I have gone to church twice now. It’s a mostly new experience, Rebel was in the nursery for the first year while I was working. Also, what will surprise no parent of more than two children: my two girls are very different. Roar roars. She can roar so loudly my eardrums rattle. (I’ve started facing her towards my bad ear when she cries, so my good ear doesn’t go bad.) She doesn’t always roar, most of the time she’s just making baby noises and trying out her smiles. Even though she’s got lungs to match the angels, I keep her in worship with me. (There’s no nursery, but, she’d stay with me anyway.)

I keep her in worship because I believe it is never too early to let children know they are loved by God. The community reflects God’s love especially when it welcomes children who act like children. Churches are richer when there’s a kid or two or seventeen present. If Roar starts roaring, I do get up and go change her diaper in another room, but then I stand in the back and rock her. As I was rocking her on Sunday, I got smiles from those around me who heard her cooing, they know the value of seeing the face of God reflected in a child.

I am grateful for spaces where I feel welcome to be present with my small children. There seem to be far too many spaces in our culture where kids should be allowed, but aren’t welcomed. It’s kept me more isolated than I need to be. (So is the fact that simply leaving the house can be a production.)

Even in the midst of constantly caring for my two young children, I seek to grow spiritually. I’m going to turn 35 this week, and I don’t want to wait until after I’m 40 to grow deeper in my spiritual development. So I want a space for spiritual reflection and growth with babies welcome. I’m going to lead this retreat. We will create space for messy holiness. The Spirit can speak in many places including both in silence and the squeals of the littlest child.

We will partner together so each participant can have a time of silence and solitude each day (a minimum of half an hour a day), but most of the time we will gather together with our babies and learn together. If you don’t have children, you are also welcome, just know there will be kids there, too.

Spiritual growth doesn’t have to wait until you can be away from your kids for two days. You don’t have to spend an hour a day in your morning quiet time to grow spiritually. Children learn from their parents, a good way to teach them is to show you value their presence even while you retreat.

I’ve not encountered this idea before. Who wants to pilot it with me?

Experienced Moving

I’ve moved a lot. I change houses like some people change favorite jeans. I know how to set up a kitchen in less than a week, and make a new house feel like a home I’ve lived in for years. 

Moving is not all about houses. It is also about leaving the familiar and moving to the unknown. It’s about changing out communities, finding new friends, and learning new places. It’s about losing and gaining things at the same time. 

My favorite moving day story is from when I was sixteen. We were leaving a place we had been for four years that we didn’t really ever feel we could call home. There are various reasons for that, most of them are not my story to tell, but for my own part I was not leaving any friends my age behind. I was glad to be leaving. 

Our driveway was black sand that ingrained itself in the carpet and any other surface it came into contact with. Each time I got into the family van, I would snap my feet together to shake the sand off my feet so that the sand transfer would be as minimal as possible. When I got in the car that final morning, I intentionally did not shake the sand off my feet, because I had run across the passage in Matthew 10 where Jesus sends out his disciples to preach about the Kingdom of Heaven. In verse 14, Jesus tells his disciples to shake the dust from their feet if they do not find welcome or listening ears. I didn’t shake the sand off my feet because I refused to say that the blessing of God’s peace was not present in that place, even if I hadn’t encountered peace while I was there. 

On the last day when we were packed up and the house was clean and empty, we went to have breakfast with a couple that were friends with our family. They pulled out all the stops. Biscuits, eggs, sausage, and this amazing concoction of blueberries with sour cream and brown sugar. Don’t knock it until you try it. June is prime blueberry season in south Georgia. That breakfast was the final good memory to have in a place that didn’t have many other good memories. 

Some moves are like that, a time to leave bad memories behind and move forward into new experiences. Some moves are heartbreaking, leaving behind longtime friends and loved spaces for the unknown. Some moves happen because of graduation or getting a new job or moving closer to family. 

I imagine that my perspective on moving is different than most folks, because I grew up expecting to move, and I chose to work in a profession that expects me to move. I never expected to be in the same place for a very long time. I always wonder where the next place we will live will be, even if that new place and new move is a long ways off. It means that my roots don’t get very deep. But it also means that I am always looking to learn something new about the people I meet. I become more curious each time I find somewhere new. I always know that the blessings of God are present even if I don’t yet know where to look.