"Is There Grace for me too, Pastor?"
Well, good morning. It has been 23 weeks since any of us have gathered in any formal manner here at Redemption Church. I simply cannot tell you how much I've missed you. Every Sunday morning, (Jana can attest to this), I am sad. Today, I'm so grateful to give a homily, and the title happens to be a question, and it's this: "Is there grace for me too, pastor?"
The Sunday sadness for me is not simply because I don't get to preach the gospel on a Sunday morning. The sadness happens to be over the fact that I don't get to see your faces. And still today, I don't even get to see your whole faces. God put some real thought into your face, you know. Your face tells a story even when you're not saying anything.
I think the thing I miss most about Sundays is standing on these front steps that I call my "perch" and welcoming people to worship. I've done it every week for years. I love seeing your faces, hugging your necks, and having our brief exchange as you head in to see other saints. Soon you'll be singing to Jesus, praying, hearing the gospel proclaimed and receiving the sacraments.
I love those moments because, to me, it feels like we are acting like our real selves. Both of us – pastor and parishioner. No Scriptures are being read, songs being sung, or prayers being prayed. It's where the liturgy wakes up and takes a deep breath. It's time for the work of the people, not just the pastor.
As people approach the perch, most everyone has the same look on their faces regardless of where they're coming from or what they're currently going through.
There are the hurried moms and dads who just crawled out of the van, struggling to get the kids to Sunday School on time. Both have a question in their eyes: "Is there grace for me too, pastor?" Or maybe it's a friend that is having an ongoing faith crisis, who for some reason or another pulled herself out of bed, filled the tumbler with coffee, and came anyway. When she and I make eye contact, you can tell she's suddenly surprised by herself - she's darkening the doors of a church, and as she gets closer, I can tell she's got the same question in her eyes, too… "Is there grace for me, pastor?" Finally, my wife walks up the sidewalk. The kids blow past me, yelling, "Hey Daddy!" as they head for the donuts. Jana is a woman who has never been fond of the title "pastor's wife." I like that about her. This isn't because she doesn't love my vocation, occupation, or the church. She just doesn't need another "role" to fill any more than anyone else here does. And when I see her, she can see that my eyes are always asking the same question that everyone else has already asked: "Is there grace for me too?" And she always says, something like "I'm so glad to be here today! Jesus loves you, Alex."
And so this morning, I want to just take a few moments and walk through Psalm 23 with you. This undoubtedly is the most famous Psalm in Scripture, and aside from John 3:16 is the most well-known passage in the Bible. David, King of Israel, pens this Psalm in a very personal way. David skips the flowery rhetoric that passes for "worship" on Christian radio. He's also not an angry, argumentative armchair theologian, straining out every theological gnat. David is not speaking to, for, or with the entire congregation of Israel. He speaks in very personal ways about who God is to him and how he relates to him personally. I love this because he knows this art piece isn't going to be confined to a journal entry but is to be included in the hymnbook catalog for the whole nation to sing! David was aware that God not only sees a crowd, he sees faces. God doesn't merely count numbers; he knows names. God is not generally aware of the nation as a whole but is present, immanent, and available to a person. Psalm 23 is for the person asking with their eyes, "Is there grace for me too, pastor?"
David uses two metaphors to describe God. The first is a shepherd, and the second is a host on a wait staff. In both scenarios, King David is the one in need of protection, provision, and guidance. He's the receiver of grace upon grace.
He begins:
The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want.
David opens with the confession that his deepest needs will not be met by the military, politics, the nation, and even his own self. God is his shepherd, and nothing can change that. Many of us are worried about the state of our city, our country, and our world. We are glued to our screens, guessing what tomorrow may bring. This morning you might be at your wit's end, and you're asking, "Is there grace for me too, pastor?" And David says to you,
“the Lord is your shepherd. You are not alone.”
He makes me lie down in green pastures. He leads me beside still waters.
Notice that David says that his shepherd knows what's best for him, taking him to pleasant and safe places. Maybe you had your heart broken this year? Perhaps your business suffered tremendously? For some, your marriage has been through the wringer. After 23 weeks, you're asking "Is there grace for me too, pastor?" "I sure need a break." "I need to lay down." "Is there any water nearby?" David says,
“Oh yes! I hope you like the colors green and blue.”
He restores my soul. He leads me in paths of righteousness for his name's sake.
If you know David's story, then you know that his soul was often in need of a God-sized restoration. David understood that his throne would be established forever, but that's not because of his flawless moral track record. It will be by grace alone. To have your soul turned around or inside out is quite the predicament because can't really reach inside and untangle the mess within any more than a person can perform heart surgery on himself. Perhaps by this point in life, the king realized that even anointed men and women can go astray and that the deepest soul-work must be done by God himself. Maybe you've lost your way over the last 23 weeks apart, and your soul is somewhere out there with the prodigal son hungover in a pigsty, and you're wondering this morning, "Is there grace for me too, pastor?" David says,
“Oh yes! The tangled up yarn of your soul is no match for the fingers of God.”
Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for you are with me; your rod and your staff, they comfort me.
David describes the fact that though he's the king of Israel, chosen and anointed by God, he, too, must still walk through the valley o,f the shadow of death. All of life is learning to let go. We let go of our friends. We let go of family members. In the end, we let go of our own selves. The valley of the shadow of death can pop up in any place. It can look like a hospital waiting room. Sometimes it looks like or a late-night fight with your spouse. Sometimes it's in your car when you remember what happened to you so long ago and nobody knows that it happened. We all find ourselves in this valley. Maybe over the last 23 weeks, you've found yourself there, and you're asking, "Is there grace for me too, pastor?" David says,
“Look to the shepherd’s hands and what do you see? In his right hand he has club for the bears, lions, and foxes. And in his left there’s a shepherd staff to pull you back close to his side.”
You prepare a table before me in the presence of my enemies; you anoint my head with oil; my cup overflows.
Though radically different occupations, the shifting of the image from Shepherd to Banquet Host still communicates the heart, intentions, and actions of God. Like you and me, even kings have enemies, get hungry, and enjoy dessert on the house. What kind of God chooses such humility? Here we see Almighty God, the Divine Waiter, with his apron on, preparing a table for his cherished David. The thing about Yahweh is that if he's in the mood to celebrate, he doesn't have to wait until the enemies are all gone to finally pour the best wine and enjoy his friends. Far from it! "Today is the day of salvation!" "Right here in the middle of the chaos, we are going to enjoy being together!" How long has it been since you enjoyed a true uninterrupted Sabbath with God?
Not only does God prepare a meal, but he anoints David with oil. David knows he's king. So why the reminder? Because a title doesn't give David the power, strength, wisdom, courage, or integrity to lead the nation – but anointing does. A relationship does. Maybe this morning you feel far from God and aren't up to the task ahead of you. Perhaps you're asking, "Is there grace for me too, pastor?" David says,
“You are chosen, anointed, and empowered. God is not running out of water or wine! And if he wants to turn one into the other, he will do just that! The cup is overflowing, and the kitchen is stocked! You have only one thing to do today – enjoy it!”
Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life, and I shall dwell in the house of the Lord forever.
As David finishes his meal, he puts down the utensils, wipes his mouth, and stares out the window. After a moment, deep, gut-level gratitude wells up within him. He says out loud to God, his fellow dinner guests, and most certainly to his own soul,
“surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life.”
Like those of you who are asking today, "Is there grace for me too, pastor?" David has not forgotten the pain of the past, the presence of the enemies, or tomorrow's rainy forecast. It is with these things in mind that David says, "mercy and goodness are always right on my heels!" And as he draws his final breath, asking, "Is there grace for me too, pastor?" He assures himself that Goodness and Mercy will swallow him up entirely and that "he will in the house of the Lord forever." Amen.