resources for your journey with jesus
My brother Chris took his last breath 15 days ago in a skilled nursing facility and by some shockwave of sheer grace, we were granted bedside access for two full weeks prior as he slipped into semi-consciousness. Grief, as anyone who has lost a loved one knows, is no respecter of persons or time. It can go underground and then come crashing in--a rogue wave, tossing you around like a rag doll in its turbulence. This happened to me this morning as I was reflecting on my Scripture reading.
So then, those who suffer according to God’s will should commit themselves to their faithful Creator and continue to do good. 1 Peter 4:19
Theological disputes about God’s sovereignty and sickness aside, I watched my brother suffer terribly for almost three years after a stroke paralyzed and partially blinded him. In his better moments, he told me he was certain God had him in that place for a purpose, and in his final days, as nurses, doctors, aides, therapists and fellow patients streamed through his room to say goodbye, I understood the power of those four words, continue to do good.
Chris always loved people, but the stroke left him with an unusual brain condition dubbed la belle indifference—the beautiful indifference—that uniquely put this on display. (You can read the story about that here). After the stroke, Chris was brilliant, fun, savvy and sane as ever, with one exception—he could not connect the dots from the present to the future. Like the proverbial Groundhog Day, he woke up most mornings with the sense that he had landed temporarily in the hospital and would get out soon.
So, through multiple illnesses, surgeries and ER visits, while enduring unbearable pain month after month, it seems to me that Chris just continued to do good--connecting personally with the lives of every person who walked through his door, insisting regularly that I take Joe out to dinner on him, sharing his snacks with the staff, and ordering birthday gifts on Amazon for me to give out to the family he loved. Even in his semi-conscious state at the end, he labored to squeeze people’s hands or blink three times for I love you.
So as I grieved and read 1 Peter again this morning, I felt a reset in my soul, a path forward that I think I can follow through the landmines of pandemics and presidential elections and civil unrest and upheaval like I've not seen in my entire life. Continue to do good.
I felt a reset in my soul, a path forward that I can easily follow through the landmines of pandemics and presidential elections and civil unrest and upheaval like never seen in my entire life. Continue to do good.
Such a simple mandate that flows through the pages of Scriptures:
Trust in the Lord and do good…Psalm 37:3
Love your enemies, do good to those who hate you…Luke 6:27
Jesus of Nazareth...went around doing good…Acts 10:38
Let us not become weary in doing good…Galatians 6:9
Therefore, as we have opportunity, let us do good to all people…Galatians 6:10
Command them to do good, to be rich in good deeds…1 Timothy 6:18
Remind the people to be …ready to do whatever is good…Titus 3:1
And do not forget to do good and to share with others…Hebrews 13:16
The reset God had for me this morning was to remember how he treasures every little act of goodness I might extend—in my home, my neighborhood, on the road, in the grocery store or gas station or online. In times when it feels like everything is being shaken and uncertainty is the new normal, this lovely little mandate will anchor my soul and correct my course--continue to do good.
In times when it feels like everything is being shaken and uncertainty is the new normal, this lovely little mandate will anchor my soul and correct my course--continue to do good.
Chris came out of his semi-conscious stupor for a few days at the end, laboring to mouth words or raise his hand or turn his head our way. The last thing he said to me in his garbled, toothless whisper was “I sure do love you.” Like a soothing balm, that moment and the sheer exertion of strength it took for him to speak, has comforted me through the grief. It was his final act of goodness toward me, and one I deeply treasure. Chris’s final years were brutal, and ones I would never wish on anyone. But from him I learned the beauty of that simple command: Continue to do good. It was just the reset I needed today.
As we celebrated our nation's Independence Day , I couldn't help but think of the thousands of times I stood by my desk with hand over heart and pledged allegiance to the flag of the United States of America (is this still a thing?). The final sentence "with liberty and justice for all" is both beautiful and unsettling for me right now.
I have been working on a short series of devotionals designed to explore the Biblical view of justice since George Floyd's life was taken from him in a terrible and very public act of injustice. To be honest, I feel like I barely understand the scope of God's passion on this issue.
what do you know about biblical justice?
Just for fun, click here to take a 6-question quiz about Biblical justice--you might be surprised!
This series is five devotionals, each designed to last the length of time that George Floyd was held down by a police officer's knee as his life breath ebbed away. There is nothing political about them--just a few thoughts and Scriptures that lead you on your own journey to: Read, Reflect, Repent, Respond and Rest in silence. CLICK BELOW
Dress-up games are children’s fanciful privilege, fostering dreams and expanding imaginations into visions of glorious futures. Dressing up was one of my favorite childhood past-times, which may explain why I remember the story I share here. It was a normal summer day and I’d put on some of my mom’s old petticoats, a broad-brimmed hat, stiletto heels and a slew of jewelry. I came strutting into a room of adults and pirouetted as they told me how beautiful I looked. But then someone said these words that I’ve never forgot: “You look like Juneteenth.” As laughter ensued, I sensed a hidden unkindness in the words.
But then someone said these words that I’ve never forgot: “You look like Juneteenth.” As laughter ensued, I sensed a hidden unkindness in the words.
As I read the history of Juneteenth this morning, I discovered why. More on that in a minute, but first, in case you don’t have a clear grasp of this vital American celebration, here is a brief summary: While President Lincoln issued the Emancipation Proclamation in 1863, the Civil War didn’t end until April, 1865 and the North struggled to enforce it in the rebel confederate states. On June 19, 1865, Union soldiers arrived in Texas, one of the most resistant states, where General Gordon Granger read a proclamation that included these words: "all slaves are free."
When African American slaves heard this, they were in utter shock and disbelief, and for them, the true celebration of emancipation began. Through the years, honoring that day became tradition as people gathered to eat, worship, play games and comemmorate their freedom day. While true equal rights would elude African Americans in the centuries to come, Juneteenth has continued to be a time for families to celebrate and pass on their rich heritage on to future generations. Many states now officially recognize the date, including Texas, and there is strong pressure to make it a national holiday.
Back to my story. Reading about Juneteenth, I came across the following and then I understood the shame I felt on that dress-up day some six decades ago:
Dress was also an important element in early Juneteenth customs and is often still taken seriously, particularly by the direct descendants who can make the connection to this tradition's roots. During slavery there were laws on the books in many areas that prohibited or limited the dressing of the enslaved. During the initial days of the emancipation celebrations, there are accounts of former slaves tossing their ragged garments into the creeks and rivers and adorning themselves with clothing taken from the plantations belonging to their former 'masters'. (https://www.juneteenth.com/history.htm)
New generations, not knowing the history behind hurtful words or even actions, simply repeat what they have heard, never understanding how they may play a role in perpetuating painful stereotypes and false narratives.
When I read that, I understood that while the adult who described my dressed-up self as looking like Juneteenth probably did not know the history behind those words, it is clear to me now that it was a derogatory phrase, most likely handed down in generations past by angry slave owners whose lives were upended on June 19th, 1865.
Here’s the thing. No one had to tell me that “looking like Juneteenth” was shameful—I felt it and have not forgotten it for over six decades. I share this now because I am learning how deeply ingrained my own cultural influences can be, and how easily they are passed along. New generations, not knowing the history behind hurtful words or even actions, simply repeat what they have heard, never understanding how they may play a role in perpetuating painful stereotypes and false narratives.
The events of the past weeks have felt to me like watching a slow-motion film as a scab is ripped from a deep and dreadful national wound, its infection spilling into the streets and shaking up my ordered white privilege world.
The events of the past weeks have felt to me like watching a slow-motion film as a scab is ripped from a deep and dreadful national wound, its infection spilling into the streets and shaking up my ordered white privilege world. I am seeing daily how much I must learn and am unequivocally committed to the process. I am studying biblical justice and letting God’s heart soak into mine. I hope to offer a series of devotionals on it here in the coming weeks. I am listening to people of color and other spiritual leaders who are speaking into the issue of racism and social justice. I have included some links below.
But today I am going to celebrate Juneteenth. I am going to rejoice with my African American brothers and sisters on this, their independence day, and thank God for that moment when newly freed slaves shed their rags and donned the beautiful clothes they’d once been denied. I might even get dressed up myself.
links for learning
Contact Tricia here.
Tricia McCary Rhodes
Author of 7 books and pastor of Global Leadership Development at All Peoples Church in San Diego, Tricia specializes in helping others experience God’s presence through practicing soul-care.