Dianne, my sister- in law, died seven months ago. Recently her husband gave Jerry (my wife) a folder and a large envelope full of letters she had received from Kevin, our son, and sermon I had preached years ago. The letters are priceless for Kevin.
And the sermons? I’m sure she kept the them because we lived across the continent, and it was a meaningful “family contact.”
I decided to look at the sermons to see what I was saying fifty years ago. The title of the first sermon in the folder got my attention: Sacramental Moments. Here is the introduction to the sermon.
It was one of those experiences that we usually label “rare.” I’ve come to believe they are not so rare as we think they are. If we had “eyes to see” and “ears to hear” we would be enriched beyond our dreaming. The common would glow with wonder the ordinary would be transparent with extraordinary meaning,
The “rare” moment was in our family this week. Before dinner one evening, Kim and Kerry (our daughters, 12 and 9) had pushed the furniture in the living room aside and turned the room into a gymnasium. That’s not as bad as it sounds! Where else in the house is there such a lush base for their acrobatic attempts? Inspired, I think by Olga, the little Russian “pixie” of Olympic fame, they were practicing their new art. I sat on the sofa for a while and enjoyed their antics, marveling at physical development, the beauty of the human body, and the fresh joy they were finding in attempting something different.
This must have gone on for an hour before we were called to dinner. I had let them 30 or 40 minutes before, knowing they were not going to hurt themselves. As we ascended on the dining room, I heard Kerry say aloud, but to herself, “I’ve never had so much fun with my sister!” I asked Kerry to pray our “blessing” and she thanked God for the fun she and Kim had.
Does this sound mundane to you? It was a moment of beauty for me. It hinted at all life can be, and ought to be. The awareness on Kerry’s prayer that life with Kim wasn’t always fun, but today was a special moment. Her sensitivity to the good of that moment and her spontaneous thanksgiving to God for it was a sacramental moment for me.
After sharing that experience, I added,
In the offering plate a couple of weeks ago, there was a note addressed to me. I don’t know who wrote it, but I want to say thank you for it now. It simply said, “You and God really came through today. I heard you!” That was my first Sunday back from vacation, and it was a sacramental moment—enough encouragement to keep me going for a while.
I preached that sermon Oct. 1, 1971. It has been sacramental moments, not just from my family, but in relationships, in nature…vivid times of God’s presence, along with the encouragement of listeners that have kept me going and growing for 52 years. And because I am looking and listening, I am counting on a sacramental moment today.