Friday, January 14, 2011

Light up the darkness with praise

I had an uncle named Delbert, my father's brother. Delbert always smelled strongly of cigarettes and stale beer. Occasionally, he changed the odor and you would get a whiff of whiskey on the wind. He was thin, very thin, broomstick think, probably from self-inflicted damage, with army-cut black hair and a face with stubble of a day or two continuously.

He would come to visit, and stay a while, divorced as he was. There were three kids, best I recall, two older than me and one younger. I haven't seen them since I was 11 or 12, eons ago.

Once he came and stayed with us though we lived in a very, very small two-bedroom brick home in the Oakland Heights neighborhood of Meridian, Miss. It was a neighborhood in which persons coming home from World War II could have property at a cheap price. It was the first home my parents owned. I lived there from the age of 2 until we moved to our permanent home when I was eight.

This time, he brought with him his son, Doogie. Doogie, whose real name I have no memory of and I'm only guessing this wasn't his real name, was two years older than I at 9 years of age, and he had difficulty reading perhaps because they kept moving him around, father to mother, place to place. I helped him with that, reading to him over and over though I was but 2/3 of the way through second grade. I had learned to read as a 5-year-old by pouring over box scores in the Meridian Star. My first words weren't something akin to Jack and Jill went up the hill. Instead, it was Berra 4 1 1 (at bats, runs, hits) and Maris and my favoite, Mantle. First and second grades had merely added to my reading skills.

Delbert's son and I shared a little bedroom that spring, and the thing I remember most was that Otis sometimes wet the bed. It was a difficult time for all of us. Cramped didn't express what we were.
I remember, faintly, a few things about Delbert, who is long dead. One thing stands out, though. When Delbert came, things always were at their worst, and he spent long nights sipping coffee (or something stronger) at the kitchen table telling us about it. Gosh, listening to him in the 50s one would think we lost the darn war in the 40s. He talked continually about how bad things were for him, how things never broke his way, how life seemed to be out to get him.

Once he brought with him a large boat, a cabin-cruiser, he had purchased in Meridian. It was one of the few times I remember him actually working. He was upbeat and happy. Again it was of the few times I remember him that way, for he almost always was dire and down. He wound up leaving the boat with us, and my dad, mom, and I had a grand old time untill Dad sold it.

I was thinking about all that this morning as I poured over a couple chapters of the prophecy of Isaiah. The first half of the book of Isaiah's prophecies is an admitted downer. At one point in the 24th chapter, he writes, "That's all well and good for somebody, but all I can see is doom, doom and more doom." That was Delbert. That describes some folks I know. That's not me, in case someone is thinking it, having read me for a while. I'm half-empty, not totally dry. I do not see the world as doom, doom, and more doom. My world is more, happy, happy, doom, doom. I digress.

But on occasion, Isaiah would pour his emotions onto his sleeve and find it comforting to have them there. He writes, "But there are some who will break into glad song. Out of the west they'll shout of God's majesty. yes from the east God's glory will ascend. Every island of the sea will broadcast God's fame, the fame of the God of Israel. From the four winds and the seven seas we hear the singing: "All praise to the Righteous One!"

Here's the point today: Praising God happens, or should happen, even when all we see is doom, doom, and more doom.

It is for that reason I love the contemporary hymn, Blessed be Your Name. Its lyrics include the lines:

In the land that is plentiful
Where the streams of abundance flow
Blessed be your name

Blessed be your name
When I'm found in the desert place
Though I walk through the wilderness
Blessed be your name

Every blessing you pour out,
I turn back to praise
When the darkness closes in, Lord
Still I will say...
Blessed be the name of the Lord

Blessed be your name
When the sun's shining down on me
When the world's all as it should be
Blessed be your name

Blessed be your name
On the road marked with suffering
Though there's pain in the offering
Blessed be your name

In other words, bless the name of the Father when the sun is blazing a warm, comforting trail and bless the name of the Son when we are suffering and things are dark and horrific. Bless the Holy Spirit in good times and in bad. Bless God from whom all blessings flow. Bless God when those blessings don't seem to be flowing at all. Bless him all day, every day, and maybe especially on those long, dark nights when fear is a companion and pain is an acquaintance we can't seem to rid ourselves of.

Blessing God shouldn't and must not depend on our circumstances. Blessing God when things are at their worst is a way of saying, "Thinks look bad, Lord, but I trust you even now."

We had a family that was dear to us at one of our previous churches. Their daughter, in a freak accident, fell asleep on the back seat of her car on a dreary, frigid night and stunningly froze to death. The family was, as you can imagine, devastated to lose the 20-year-old light of their life. But at the funeral, in a display of courage and outright love of their savior, chose that song, Blessed Be Your Name as one of the hymns to be played. It cut right though the grief, right through the pain, right on into the sinew of love and the muscle of courage and even the bone marrow filled with grace. They survived the unsurvivable by loving Christ more than they hurt.

Isaiah writes in the 25th chapter, "God, you are my God. I celebrate you. I praise you. You've done your share of miracle-wonders, well-thought out plans, solid and sure."

Blessed by your name, Jesus. Name above all names. Power above all powers. Love above all loves.

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