Wednesday, August 27, 2008

Dear God,

I want to preach a sermon on Sunday entitled Lean on Me. I went to bed last night when it came to me. Lean on me. Lean on me.

Suddenly the country song started twirling around in my head. “Lean on me when you’re not strong and I’ll be your friend and help you carry on.” The words repeated over and over.

Lean on me. How much do I realize I need to lean on you? I think of all the other things in the world to lean on. Money, success, dreams, drugs, anything shiny. How often have I leaned on something else or someone else? How many times did I grab for substitutes? How often was my own healing delayed because I grabbed for the cheap plastic model? And then later as I did take your extended hand, how I was able for the first time to read the label on the plastic god revealing its truth? I had to fall at your feet in pain because I had turned away, rejecting your offer, your help. I had not been willing to lean on you. I saw in my own mind’s eye the list of times.

But you were always generous. You always received me back. Mercy stood beside you, grace at your other side. I wept bitterly knowing I did not deserve your hospitality or any other gifts. But you offered them to me on a golden platter, reminding me I was one of your children. I see those times too.

Today I am giving back, offering that same gift to others.

I feel
your frame
next to me,
evidence
of your presence.
I know
your compassion,
the Divine
looking upon
my heap
of flesh.
You restore
my dignity;
you renew
my soul.
You return
my hope
and my love.
You restart
my heart,
shaping it
to beat
in a divine rhythm.
And I sing
the song
of joy
once again.

Love, Andrea