Bret Hammond

His Love Endures Forever; Psalm 136 by Bret Hammond

This past Friday, I gathered with friends to say goodbye to a wonderful lady named Joyce Hemingway. Joyce's generous spirit was repeatedly mentioned at her funeral—not just generous in how she gave but in how she welcomed. Every holiday, there were always a few extra at Joyce and John's table. They had a practice of welcoming international students from Denmark, Japan, and the Middle East into their home to celebrate Thanksgiving. It always struck me that these students had no national connection to our Thanksgiving holiday. But gratitude is an international language. Joyce's cooking was too!

I think gratitude welcomes others. When we invite others to give thanks with us, our reasons to be thankful can show them their own reasons to give thanks. You hear this in the opening verse of Psalm 118. Verse 1 calls out, "Give thanks to the Lord, for he is good." Those who hear respond, "For his steadfast love endures forever!"

Your gratitude has the power to change someone's attitude! Someone needs to hear your gratitude! Make sure you open your heart to them and tell them what God has done for you!

I stopped into my favorite hideaway yesterday for a cup of coffee and a little time to myself. Within a few minutes, the sound system started playing “Winter Wonderland.” Next up was “Run, Run Rudolph,.” A few minutes later, Freddy Mercury belted out, “Let it be Christmas every day.” I sighed while I drank my chestnut praline latte and wondered why we allow Christmas to run roughshod over Thanksgiving.

Of course, it’s a common complaint of curmudgeons my age. In our rush to get to Christmas, we forget about Thanksgiving. And while the Bible tells us of shepherds, angels, wise men, and others celebrating the birth of Jesus, it out-and-out commands us to give thanks! It even goes one better and gives us a Thanksgiving playlist in the Psalms!

In this sermon, we begin a three-week celebration of the songs of Thanksgiving. We’ll start off in Psalm 100 with a call to make a joyful noise to the Lord. If we do it loud enough, we might even drown out Mariah Carey!

NOTE: Due to copyright restrictions, I'm unable to provide Ben Rector's, "The Thanksgiving Song." It can be found at this link: https://youtu.be/QwaxNPY5nIY

This week will mark the twenty-third year since my brother’s death as a victim of suicide. Twenty-three years is a lot of time for perspective. I know mine has changed over the years, and I sometimes wonder how Brad’s perspective would have changed if he had given it time. Would the burdens that felt unmanageable at forty-nine years old have been just distant memories at seventy-two? I would like to believe they would have.

An old Swedish proverb says, “a joy shared is a doubled joy. A burdened shared is half a burden.” Studies have shown that two proven methods for reducing the risk of suicide are an increased sense of belonging and a decreased burden. In other words, a joy shared and a burden halved. Or, as the apostle Paul would say, “bear one another’s burdens, and so fulfill the law of Christ” (Galatians 6:2).

We began in October with “love one another” (which is the law of Christ), and today we arrive at “bear one another’s burdens” with the realization that there are stresses none of us were ever meant to carry alone. The burdens we bear together might give someone the time to develop a perspective that can change their lives. That would genuinely multiply our joy!

Paul tells us in 1 Corinthians 12 that the church is the body of Christ, comparing the church's individual members with the members of the human body. I've always heard this as a metaphor for how we serve together. Hands and feet of Jesus, working and moving us together. Eyes and ears, seeing the needs around us, and hearing the cries of our neighbors so we can reach out to them better. However, my perspective on this metaphor has changed in recent years, and I have a sneaking suspicion that change has something to do with getting older.

I often opt for stairs instead of elevators and find my hand on the handrail, helping out my knees after a few flights. I've learned the pain in my right shoulder when I reach high probably isn't go away, so my left arm is ready to make those reaches. And then there are those times when I get on the floor to play with my granddaughter. I'm careful to lower myself down in such a way that I'm confident I can get back up again!

For me, the metaphor has become less about how we work together and more about how we care for one another, and I think that's a big part of Paul's intention here. After all, in 1 Corinthians 12:24-25, Paul writes, "God has so composed the body . . . that the members may have the same care for one another." We can work with our individual talents and gifts, but without a care for one another, we're still not serving as the body of Christ.

Mary Johnson’s story is moving and inspiring. In 1993, her 20-year-old son was shot and killed by 16-year-old Oshea Israel. Rather than being consumed by bitterness, Mary began visiting Oshea in prison, eventually telling him that she forgave him. When he was released, Mary welcomed Oshea into her home. In an interview with the two, Mary said, “I treat you as I would treat my own son.” Can we even imagine that kind of grace?

Honestly, probably not. As a preacher, I wonder how helpful these stories are for those of us struggling to let go of an offense. There are those who have not murdered our family, but through their gossip, they’ve murdered our reputations; through their bullying, they’ve wounded our children; by their social slights, they’ve hurt our feelings and done so again and again. Stories like Mary and Oshea’s are inspiring, but they can leave us feeling like failures in the pains we carry every day.

So, while I’m thankful for a fantastic mother and son relationship like Mary and Oshea’s, when I preach about “forgiving one another” today, I want you to see what grace can look like in your story—in OUR story. This is about “one another,” after all.

"No one ever said that to me before."

My neighbor had stopped by for a talk. The day before, he told me of his wife's health and how he was caring for her. I told him I would be praying for them both.

"No one ever said that to me before." It was as much a shock to my system to hear him say those words as my pledge to pray had been to his. All my life, I had known people were praying for me (even before I was a Christian). To me, it was the most natural response imaginable. To Jim, it was a level of grace he couldn't grasp. Someone would care enough to pray for him!

I wonder if we fully comprehend how saturated our lives are with prayer. Do we recognize what a blessing it is to know someone out there is praying for us . . . possibly even right now?

Among the 100 "one anothers" we find in the New Testament is James 5:16 and the call to "Pray for one another."

It had been a late night and an early morning. Sitting at the breakfast table with my friends, bleary-eyed, and wading through another cup of coffee, I confessed, "Look, I'm barely here. If you have anything important to say, you're going to need to repeat it, like, three times."

My exhaustion was a convenient excuse, but we would all have to confess that we don't always pay attention. But I was right; repetition is the key to remembering. Way back in 1885, Hermann Ebbinghaus discovered that repeating a name three times locks it into our long-term memory (though I have my doubts it would work on a name like "Hermann Ebbinghaus").

Repetition helps us remember. I think God already knew that. In the New Testament, we find 100 passages that tell us what we should do for "one another." We should pray for one another, speak truth to one another, bear one another's burdens, and serve one another, just to name a few. If Ebbinghouse says three times is the charm, the Bible's 100 "one anothers" shows us that God doesn't want us to forget how to love one another!

Everyone has their own heroes from the Bible. When we're young, the boys choose David and dream of fighting off giants. Maybe the girls choose Esther and know that part of their beauty is the conviction to stand for what's right. Daniel inspires our faithfulness; Mary reminds us that God uses unexpected people for his purposes. Whomever you've chosen as your biblical hero, you have found something in them that you want in your character and story.

As for me, my hero is the demoniac Jesus encountered in the Gerasenes. You remember the story, right? Rampaging possessed naked guy, chained up in the cemetery. Jesus sends his demons into a herd of pigs that drown in the sea. Don't miss the ending of the story, though. When the man begs Jesus to let him become a follower, Jesus says, "No." Instead, Jesus tells him, "Go home to your friends and tell them how much the Lord has done for you" (Mark 5:19).

The biblical character I find myself related to most is a man Jesus told to go home. In this sermon, given at my home church, I unpack this story and share about a few of my demons and—most importantly—the mercy I've known from Jesus.

Tucked in the middle of the movie, The Passion of the Christ is a scene that I find my mind going back to again and again. Jesus has been beaten bloody and carries his cross through the streets of Jerusalem. The weight of the wood, the exhaustion of the beating, and the blood in his eyes from the crown of thorns suddenly become too much for him. He collapses to the ground, the cross pinning him there.

His mother watches on, and like any mother who sees her child fall, she runs to comfort him, saying, “I’m here.” Jesus turns to her, cups her cheek, and says, “See, mother, I make all things new.”

It’s a line you won’t find in any of the Gospels or their passion narratives. Instead, it comes from the throne of heaven in Revelation 21:5. “Behold, I am making all things new.” I love that promise there at the culmination of all things, but I’m moved by how the Passion of the Christ reminds me of the price of the promise.

The chaos of this world is conquered by the cross.

Humanity’s final union with the Father is delivered by the one who was rejected.

The promise of the end of mourning and pain was accomplished through the man of sorrows.

The transformation of the sufferings of Jesus into the glory to be revealed in us is beyond my comprehension today. Still, it is the hope we share and extend to the hurting around us.