 |
| Rev. Brent Russett |
Pastor of
Sunnyside Wesleyan Church in Ottawa:
http://www.sunnysidechurchottawa.com/ _______________________________________________________
PODCAST LINK to CFRA broadcast - Sunday, October 11th, 2015:
‘Thanksgiving’
Good
morning. And welcome to good news in the morning. My name is Brent Russett. I am the Senior
Pastor at Sunnyside Wesleyan Church. It is my pleasure to look at some of
life’s challenges, and then bring you some good news in the morning.
I am glad that you tuned your dial
to CFRA. I want you to know that you can also find Good News in the morning on
the internet at Goodnewsinthemorning.ca
. There you can keep up to date with what is happening around Good News
Christian Ministries.
This morning’s program is sponsored Doris
Dain. Thank you for partnering with us as we share good news in the morning. We
really appreciate it.
I want to say a special welcome to
our international listeners, who listen via the internet. We are glad that you
have found us, and are finding this ministry an encouragement.
This is thanksgiving weekend in Canada. There is so much to be thankful for. The bible encourages us to be thankful.
And giving thanks makes a
difference. I read where “Two psychologists, Michael McCollough of Southern
Methodist University in Dallas, Texas, and Robert Emmons of the University of
California, wrote an article about an experiment they conducted on gratitude
and its impact on well-being.
The study split several hundred
people into three different groups and all of the participants were asked to
keep daily diaries. The first group kept a diary of the events that occurred
during the day without being told specifically to write about either good or
bad things; the second group was told to record their unpleasant experiences;
and the last group was instructed to make a daily list of things for which they
were grateful.
The results of the study indicated
that daily gratitude exercises resulted in higher reported levels of alertness,
enthusiasm, determination, optimism, and energy. In addition, those in the gratitude
group experienced less depression and stress, were more likely to help others,
exercised more regularly, and made greater progress toward achieving personal
goals.”
But if you are like me, there are
times in your life where you don’t feel thankful. If you are experiencing
grief, or depression, or hardship or suffering, thankfulness is hard. Sometimes
you have to look really hard to find something that you are thankful for. Maybe
you are in one of those spots right now.
If you are there, then you know it
doesn’t help for someone to come along and say, just be happy. But sometimes it
is helpful for someone like me to come along and bring a fresh perspective on
things to encourage thankfulness.
When one is thankful, it presupposes, that there is one to whom one is thankful to. As a follower of Jesus, I am thankful to God for his goodness.
When one is thankful, it presupposes, that there is one to whom one is thankful to. As a follower of Jesus, I am thankful to God for his goodness.
But I am especially thankful for a
faith that is not based on trite sentiments or pat answers. I am thankful that
we don’t have to go around pretending to be other than we are. I am thankful
that our faith speaks into the middle of reality. Sometimes reality is awesome,
sometimes life is really brutal.
But no matter what are circumstances are, there is something at the very core of Christian faith that is worth giving thanks for. Paul was imprisoned in Rome when he wrote to the church in Philippi, rejoice in the Lord always and again I say rejoice.
But no matter what are circumstances are, there is something at the very core of Christian faith that is worth giving thanks for. Paul was imprisoned in Rome when he wrote to the church in Philippi, rejoice in the Lord always and again I say rejoice.
I know this is obvious to many of
you – but although there are many good things in the world, our world is
broken. It is broken in such a way that politicians can’t fix it. They can make
it better or worse, but they can’t fix our world.
It is broken in such a way that
science can’t fix it. Science has done some amazing things, and it will
continue to discover more amazing things, but it can’t fix our broken world –
Science can make life better, or sometimes worse – but it is not a fix all.
Our world is broken in such a way
that education will not fix it. Education makes a huge difference. Education
helps people step around many of the potholes of this life, and it expands our
horizons. But education will not fix this world.
The bible teaches that the big issue
in our world is death. The reason why death is in our world is sin. The impact
of our sin in our world is that we have a broken relationship with God. It is
not just physical death, it is spiritual death that really breaks this world.
The sin in our lives and in the
lives around us leads to brokenness. It leads to broken hearts that have a pull
towards destructive things. It leads to
brokenness in relationship, although all of us long to love and be loved. It
leads to brokenness in how the world works. The governments and business in our
world because of power and money, often get distorted. All of these thinks contribute to brokenness in our own hearts and
lives. We want to be better than we are, but we end up doing the things we
don’t want to do. Our world is broken, and the brokenness stems out of sin in
the human heart.
Our greed, our lust, our pride, our
jealousy and envy, our rage, our gluttony, our need to be first, our egocentric lives cause hurt and devastation.
Sin is never the will of God. God does not want sin, he hates
the effects of sin, his whole character utterly abhors sin. He, more than
anyone else, understands how things were created to be. His
heart breaks over this broken, dysfunctional, sinful world. He really loves us. He hates to see us in so much pain.
God is all powerful, and with a word could obliterate sin. But he
knows to rip sin out of the world, would be to destroy most of the world,
because there is not much of our world, of ourselves, that has been left untouched by sin.
So what did God do? He sent his only Son into a world, that
has been washed over in pain and suffering. Jesus stepped into the
middle of our world and into the middle of our pain. He came right to
where we are at.
Sin is never the will of God. God does not want sin, he hates
the effects of sin, his whole character utterly abhors sin. He, more than
anyone else, understands how things were created to be. His
heart breaks over this broken, dysfunctional, sinful world. He really loves us. He hates to see us in so much pain.
God is all powerful, and with a word could obliterate sin. But he
knows to rip sin out of the world, would be to destroy most of the world,
because there is not much of our world, of ourselves, that has been left untouched by sin.
So what did God do? He sent his only Son into a world, that
has been washed over in pain and suffering. Jesus stepped into the
middle of our world and into the middle of our pain. He came right to
where we are at.
Whether you are at a place in life
where life is good, or you are in place where circumstances are challenging and
your life is hard, Jesus is a reason to give thanks, because he comes right
into the middle of our lives.
As a way of helping us visualize how Jesus comes into our pain I want to tell you a story called the Rag man. It was written by Walter Wangerin.
Music: Give thanks to
the Lord 3:48
Here is the story entitled, The Rag Man.
He writes.
I saw a strange sight. I stumbled upon a story most strange,
like nothing my life, my street sense, my sly tongue had ever prepared
me for.
Even before the dawn one Friday morning I noticed a young
man, handsome and strong, walking the alley of our city. He was pulling
an old cart filled with clothes bright and new, and he was calling in a
clear, tenor voice: ‟Rags‶ Ah the air was foul and the first light filthy to be crossed by such sweet music.
Rags New rags for old! I take you tired rages! Rags!‶
Now this is a wonder, I thought to myself, for the man stood six
feet four, and his arms were like tree limbs, hard and muscular, and his
eyes flashed intelligence. Could he find no better job than this, to be a
ragman in the inner city?
I followed him. My curiosity drove me. And I wasn’t disappointed.
Soon the Ragman saw a woman sitting on her back porch. She
was sobbing into a handkerchief, sighing, and shedding a thousand
tears. Her knees and elbows made a sad X. Her shoulders shook. Her
heart was breaking.
The Ragman stopped his cart. Quietly, h walked to the woman,
stepping round tin cans, dead toys, and Pampers.
Give me your rag, he said so gently, and I‵ll give you another.
He slipped the handkerchief from her eyes. She looked up and
he laid across her palm a linen cloth so clean and new that it shined.
She blinked from the gift to the giver.
Then as he began to pull his cart again, the Ragman did a
strange thing: he put her stained handkerchief to his own face; and then
he began to weep, to sob as grievously as she had done, his shoulders
shaking. Yet she was left without a tear.
This is a wonder, I breathed to myself and I followed the
sobbing Ragman like a child who cannot turn away from mystery.
Rags! Rags! New rags for old!
In a little while, when the sky showed grey behind the rooftops
and I could see the shredded curtains hanging out black windows, the
Ragman came upon a girl whose head was wrapped in a bandage,
whose eyes were empty. Blood soaked her bandage. A single line of
blood ran down her cheek.
Now the tall Ragman looked upon this child with pity, and he
drew a lovely yellow bonnet from his cart.
Give me your rag, he said tracing his own line on her cheek,
and I‵ll give you mine.
The child could only gaze at him while he loosened the
bandage, removed it, and tied it to his own head. The bonnet he set on
hers. And I gasped at what I saw: for with the bandage wen the wound!
Against his brow it ran a darker more substantial blood — his own.
Rags! Rags! I take old rags! Cried the sobbing, bleeding,
strong, intelligent Ragman.
The sun hurt both the sky, now, and my eyes, the Ragman
seemed more and more to hurry.
‟Are you going to work?‶ he asked a man who leaned against
a telephone pole. The man shook his head.
The Ragman pressed him: ‟Do you have a job?‶
Are you crazy sneered the other. He pulled away from the pole,
revealing the right sleeve of his jacket —flat, the cuff stuffed into the
pocket. He had no arm.
‟So, ‟ said the Ragman. Give me your jacket, and I‵ll give you
mine.‶
Such quiet authority in his voice!
The one-armed man took off his jacket. So did the Ragman —
and I trembled at what I saw: for the Ragman‵s arm stayed in its sleeve,
and when the other put it on he had two good arms, thick as tree limbs;
but the Ragman had only one.
‟Go to work‶ he said.
After that he found a drunk, lying unconscious beneath an
army blanket, an old man, hunched, wizened, and sick. He took that
blanket and wrapped it round himself, but for the drunk he left new
clothes
And now I had to run to keep up with the Ragman. Though he
was weeping uncontrollably, and bleeding freely at the forehead, pulling
his cart with one arm, stumbling for drunkenness, falling again and
again, exhausted, old and sick, yet he went with terrible speed. On
spider‵s legs he skittered through the alleys of the City, this mile and the
next, until he came to its limits, and then he rushed beyond.
I wept to see the change in this man. I hurt to see his sorrow.
And yet I needed to see where he was going in such haste, perhaps to
know what drove him so.
The little old ragman - he came to a landfill. He came to the
garbage pits. And then I wanted to help him in what he did, but I hung
back, hiding. He climbed a hill. With tormented labor he cleared a little
space on that hill. Then he sighed. He lay down. He pillowed his head
on a handkerchief and a jacket. He covered his bones with an army
blanket. And he died.
Oh how I cried to witness that death! I sumped in a junked car
and wailed and mourned as one who has no hope – because I had
come to love the Ragman. Every other face had faded in the wonder of
this man, and I cherished him, but he died. I sobbed myself o sleep.
I did not know – how could I know? – that I slept through
Friday night and Saturday and its night, too.
But then on Sunday morning, I was wakened by a violence.
Light pure, hard, demanding light - slammed against my sour
face, and I blinked and I looked and I saw the last and the first wonder of all. There was the ragman, folding the blanket most carefully, a scar on his forehead, but alive! And, besides that, healthy! There was no sign of
sorrow nor of age, and all the rags that he had gathered shined for
cleanliness.
Well, then lowered my head and trembling for all that I had
seen, I myself walked up to the ragman. I told him my name with shame,
for I was a sorry figure next to him. Then I took off all my clothes in that
place, and I said to him with dear yearning in my voice: ‟Dress me.‶
He dressed me. My Lord, he put new rags on me, and I am a
wonder beside him. the Ragman, the Ragman, the Christ!
I saw a strange sight. I stumbled upon a story most strange,
like nothing my life, my street sense, my sly tongue had ever prepared
me for.
Even before the dawn one Friday morning I noticed a young
man, handsome and strong, walking the alley of our city. He was pulling
an old cart filled with clothes bright and new, and he was calling in a
clear, tenor voice: ‟Rags‶ Ah the air was foul and the first light filthy to be crossed by such sweet music.
Rags New rags for old! I take you tired rages! Rags!‶
Now this is a wonder, I thought to myself, for the man stood six
feet four, and his arms were like tree limbs, hard and muscular, and his
eyes flashed intelligence. Could he find no better job than this, to be a
ragman in the inner city?
I followed him. My curiosity drove me. And I wasn’t disappointed.
Soon the Ragman saw a woman sitting on her back porch. She
was sobbing into a handkerchief, sighing, and shedding a thousand
tears. Her knees and elbows made a sad X. Her shoulders shook. Her
heart was breaking.
The Ragman stopped his cart. Quietly, h walked to the woman,
stepping round tin cans, dead toys, and Pampers.
Give me your rag, he said so gently, and I‵ll give you another.
He slipped the handkerchief from her eyes. She looked up and
he laid across her palm a linen cloth so clean and new that it shined.
She blinked from the gift to the giver.
Then as he began to pull his cart again, the Ragman did a
strange thing: he put her stained handkerchief to his own face; and then
he began to weep, to sob as grievously as she had done, his shoulders
shaking. Yet she was left without a tear.
This is a wonder, I breathed to myself and I followed the
sobbing Ragman like a child who cannot turn away from mystery.
Rags! Rags! New rags for old!
In a little while, when the sky showed grey behind the rooftops
and I could see the shredded curtains hanging out black windows, the
Ragman came upon a girl whose head was wrapped in a bandage,
whose eyes were empty. Blood soaked her bandage. A single line of
blood ran down her cheek.
Now the tall Ragman looked upon this child with pity, and he
drew a lovely yellow bonnet from his cart.
Give me your rag, he said tracing his own line on her cheek,
and I‵ll give you mine.
The child could only gaze at him while he loosened the
bandage, removed it, and tied it to his own head. The bonnet he set on
hers. And I gasped at what I saw: for with the bandage wen the wound!
Against his brow it ran a darker more substantial blood — his own.
Rags! Rags! I take old rags! Cried the sobbing, bleeding,
strong, intelligent Ragman.
The sun hurt both the sky, now, and my eyes, the Ragman
seemed more and more to hurry.
‟Are you going to work?‶ he asked a man who leaned against
a telephone pole. The man shook his head.
The Ragman pressed him: ‟Do you have a job?‶
Are you crazy sneered the other. He pulled away from the pole,
revealing the right sleeve of his jacket —flat, the cuff stuffed into the
pocket. He had no arm.
‟So, ‟ said the Ragman. Give me your jacket, and I‵ll give you
mine.‶
Such quiet authority in his voice!
The one-armed man took off his jacket. So did the Ragman —
and I trembled at what I saw: for the Ragman‵s arm stayed in its sleeve,
and when the other put it on he had two good arms, thick as tree limbs;
but the Ragman had only one.
‟Go to work‶ he said.
After that he found a drunk, lying unconscious beneath an
army blanket, an old man, hunched, wizened, and sick. He took that
blanket and wrapped it round himself, but for the drunk he left new
clothes
And now I had to run to keep up with the Ragman. Though he
was weeping uncontrollably, and bleeding freely at the forehead, pulling
his cart with one arm, stumbling for drunkenness, falling again and
again, exhausted, old and sick, yet he went with terrible speed. On
spider‵s legs he skittered through the alleys of the City, this mile and the
next, until he came to its limits, and then he rushed beyond.
I wept to see the change in this man. I hurt to see his sorrow.
And yet I needed to see where he was going in such haste, perhaps to
know what drove him so.
The little old ragman - he came to a landfill. He came to the
garbage pits. And then I wanted to help him in what he did, but I hung
back, hiding. He climbed a hill. With tormented labor he cleared a little
space on that hill. Then he sighed. He lay down. He pillowed his head
on a handkerchief and a jacket. He covered his bones with an army
blanket. And he died.
Oh how I cried to witness that death! I sumped in a junked car
and wailed and mourned as one who has no hope – because I had
come to love the Ragman. Every other face had faded in the wonder of
this man, and I cherished him, but he died. I sobbed myself o sleep.
I did not know – how could I know? – that I slept through
Friday night and Saturday and its night, too.
But then on Sunday morning, I was wakened by a violence.
Light pure, hard, demanding light - slammed against my sour
face, and I blinked and I looked and I saw the last and the first wonder of all. There was the ragman, folding the blanket most carefully, a scar on his forehead, but alive! And, besides that, healthy! There was no sign of
sorrow nor of age, and all the rags that he had gathered shined for
cleanliness.
Well, then lowered my head and trembling for all that I had
seen, I myself walked up to the ragman. I told him my name with shame,
for I was a sorry figure next to him. Then I took off all my clothes in that
place, and I said to him with dear yearning in my voice: ‟Dress me.‶
He dressed me. My Lord, he put new rags on me, and I am a
wonder beside him. the Ragman, the Ragman, the Christ!
Jesus stepped into the middle of our pain. He came right to
where we were at.
This Sunday is thanksgiving. On it we are especially aware of
the fact that we are go give thanks. But there are times when life his
difficult and thanks is not natural. In those times we remember Jesus. He himself bore our sins in his body on a tree that we might die to sin and live for righteousness.
We remember who God is. We know that according to the Word of God that God is good, that he is faithful, that he is strong, that he is loving and compassionate,
that he is merciful and forgiving. We believe it is true. But there are times when those word feel like dry theology – a lifeless creed.
Because the pain of our suffering, the volume of our questions, the
deafening roar of grief, our understanding of who God is gets muted.
But when we remember that God did not stay distant, He did not stand a far off. Even though the world was broken by sin, and sin was repugnant to him, he did not back off. He was not indifferent. He came and he lived in the middle of our
suffering. He not only suffered, but he took our suffering upon himself.
Real thanksgiving begins at the cross. That is the place that hope began. In those hopeless places of life, It seems as if we had lived all our lives in the middle of a garbage dump. We scrounged for a living. Our bodies were infected with sores
because of the diseases we picked up in the garbage dump. But we
didn’t know any other way of life. We thought the whole world was made up of a garbage dump.
But Jesus came into the middle of that garbage dump. He
became one of us. But he told us about a world outside the garbage
dump. One with beautiful forests, and pure water and lakes that are as
smooth as glass. He told us of a life we could hardly conceive of.
Those of us who listened, started, and went on a journey with him. We had
the vision of what was outside. As we followed him, we could see the
odd tree, and he would say imagine, the forest. We would see the odd
patch of grass, and he would say, think of the meadows.
That is kind of where we are at. Jesus is leading and we catch
glimpses of what should be but we are not there yet. We live in a broken world.
deafening roar of grief, our understanding of who God is gets muted.
But when we remember that God did not stay distant, He did not stand a far off. Even though the world was broken by sin, and sin was repugnant to him, he did not back off. He was not indifferent. He came and he lived in the middle of our
suffering. He not only suffered, but he took our suffering upon himself.
Real thanksgiving begins at the cross. That is the place that hope began. In those hopeless places of life, It seems as if we had lived all our lives in the middle of a garbage dump. We scrounged for a living. Our bodies were infected with sores
because of the diseases we picked up in the garbage dump. But we
didn’t know any other way of life. We thought the whole world was made up of a garbage dump.
But Jesus came into the middle of that garbage dump. He
became one of us. But he told us about a world outside the garbage
dump. One with beautiful forests, and pure water and lakes that are as
smooth as glass. He told us of a life we could hardly conceive of.
Those of us who listened, started, and went on a journey with him. We had
the vision of what was outside. As we followed him, we could see the
odd tree, and he would say imagine, the forest. We would see the odd
patch of grass, and he would say, think of the meadows.
That is kind of where we are at. Jesus is leading and we catch
glimpses of what should be but we are not there yet. We live in a broken world.
But
if it were not for the cross we would be we would not even catch a glimpse.
The kingdom of God is now and not yet. We catch glimpses,
but life will not be what it should be until we get into heaven. But learning to be thankful for what we do catch a glimpse of, clarifies the vision for what is coming.
The kingdom of God is now and not yet. We catch glimpses,
but life will not be what it should be until we get into heaven. But learning to be thankful for what we do catch a glimpse of, clarifies the vision for what is coming.
PRAYER
Lord
Jesus, Thank You so much for who you are. How you came and you took our suffering,
our pain upon yourself. And, Lord, I thank you that you know our lives well.
My
prayer is, Lord, that you would come, and for each person here on this Thanksgiving,
who is finding it difficult to be thankful, that you would just give them your hope,
your peace, your life.
Lord,
as they reach out to you, may they grab a hold of all that is in you.
I
pray this in Jesus’ name, AMEN.
“ If Good News in the Morning has been a factor in
your journey of faith, we would love to hear your story. Nothing could
encourage us more in this work. Contact
us by e-mail or Twitter via the web site –goodnewsinthemorning.ca
If
you are from the Ottawa area, I want to encourage you Save the date of Saturday
November 14th. Good news in the morning will be hosting luncheon and
fundraising event, with the Keynote speaker being CFRA’s own John Council. It
will be held at St. Timothy’s Presbyterian Church on Alta Vista. This event
will start at noon. So mark that date on your calendar’s: November 14.
And
Thank you for listening this morning. I want to especially thank Doris Dain for
sponsoring this program today. You have given a blessing to many and we pray
God’s blessing on you.
This
program is on the air by the grace of God and donations of many faithful
people. If you can help financially we would really appreciate it. You can make
a cheque payable to Good News Christian Ministries, and send it to Box 184 , Rideau Ferry , On.
K0G 1W0.
I
want to put a challenge out to those of you are live listening outside of
Canada. Would you consider logging on to our webpage, and give 1 dollar or euro
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May you know
Jesus Christ personally and profoundly.
May the Holy Spirit reside deep within your heart . And may the heavenly Father surround you with
His constant and abiding and accompanying love
MUSIC – This is my Fathers World by Fernando Ortega 3:53
By Rev. Brent Russett
Pastor of Sunnyside Wesleyan Church in Ottawa:
_______________________________________________________
PODCAST LINK to the CFRA broadcast:
PODCAST LINK to the CFRA broadcast:
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