2020-01-07
Brooke Strong
Scripture: Isaiah 60:1-6; Follow Your Star
Before I read scripture, allow me to say a word of appreciation and condolence after the death of Bill Foley on Friday. He and I were colleagues for ten or so of the fifty years he was on staff here. I found him to be a warm and gracious colleague, one who was absolutely devoted to the music and the life of Federated. His passion, energy, and generosity were huge parts of life in this church. So I wish Carol and their family the peace and presence of God in their grief. And I celebrate the remarkable and gracious life of William J. Foley. May he rest now in the peace of God.
As a sports lover, I took note of two rather significant deaths this week. The first was David Stern, the retired commissioner of the National Basketball Association. The second was Don Larsen, who, in 1956 with the New York Yankees, pitched the only perfect game in World Series history. My news feed was abuzz about both deaths.
There was nothing in my news feed, though, about the death of Dakota “Ophelia” Berg. Just to be reminded about a larger world, I sometimes read random local obituaries. I’m given a hint, in reading them, of all the many lives that come and go without most of us ever noticing them. Dakota Berg was twenty-five when she died a month ago. “Dakota was not only a daughter, sister, aunt, grandchild, cousin, and friend to many, she was also smart, kind, and had a wicked sense of humor and a laugh that warmed your heart. She gave great hugs. Dakota wrote beautiful and insightful poetry that came from the depths of her life experiences.” Even with all these gifts, though, the ache at her death was huge and several-pronged. The obituary made it clear why: “The family wishes to identify Dakota’s cause of death: opioids. We need to name it, say it, and expose it because too many lives are being lost, dreams abruptly shattered, and families torn apart. No one wants to be an addict; that person is still a human being and somebody’s special someone. Dakota’s disease stole her life just as it has for so many others. The family of our dearest girl hopes her death will not have been in vain and that the disease of addiction to opioids will soon meet its own demise” (The Plain Dealer, Dec. 11, 2019, p. A23). Dakota’s addiction to heroin had killed her. It’s a grim story.
The prophet Isaiah knows something of this family’s agony. “For darkness shall cover the earth,” says the prophet, “and thick darkness the peoples” (60:2). How many families—our own, maybe, or those of friends and neighbors—have been sucked dry by this scourge and others like it? Darkness, thick darkness, can cover the earth.
Isaiah knows the shadows of life. So does the family of Dakota Berg. So, too, do we. Some undoubtedly know the pain of opioid addiction. Others have been swamped by different sorts of death. Five Federated families that I know of have experienced a death in just the last couple of weeks. And it’s not just death that undoes us, either. Numerous other roadblocks have leveled our best-laid plans and shattered some of our fondest dreams. An injury keeps someone from working. A child is born with special challenges. A hoped-for romance never materializes. And, on a larger stage, the U.S. and Iran move precipitously toward war. Thick darkness.
Long ago, the people of Israel went through a kind of hell. They had been carted off by the Babylonians and essentially held prisoner for some seventy years. They might well have wondered if anything good would ever happen to them again. Then, just when all seems lost, they are freed to return to their homeland. What they find there, though, is but a shabby version of the earlier splendor they remember. The new temple is but a shadow of the old one. You can imagine maybe cheap building materials and shoddy workmanship and little sense of beauty or luster. It all seems so plain and lifeless. Despair has evidently overwhelmed the people. Thick darkness.
And along comes Isaiah to rouse them from their discouragement: “Get out of bed, Jerusalem! Wake up. Put your face in the sunlight. God’s bright glory has risen for you . . . God rises on you, [God’s] sunrise glory breaks over you” (60:1-2, The Message). Isaiah can see something happening that others may not be able to see. So the prophet points it out: ‘See, over there, the light is bursting—it’s like fireworks! Revel in it!’
And in calling attention to this light, what he means is two things. The first is that, no matter how they may be feeling at any moment, God is always present with them. Their happiness, their fullness of life doesn’t depend on any earthly successes. “Don’t worry,” sang Bobby McFerrin years ago, “be happy.” And ancient Israelites could be happy, and we can be happy, because God is always sustaining us and shoring us up. An oak tree can survive mighty winds because it has a massive root system to keep it righted. An island can withstand a tsunami because it’s connected to the earth’s core. Likewise, we can sustain and outlast any “slings and arrows” life deals us because we are graced by a holy presence that is stronger and better and more full of light than any thick darkness that may assault us. It’s that grounding, it’s that holy presence that can lead us to Winston Churchill’s wisdom about the meaning of success: “The definition of success is being able to go from failure to failure without the loss of enthusiasm.” Remember that the second syllable of that word enthusiasm—“thu”—comes from the Greek word “theos,” meaning God. We are always, literally, in God. In success and in failure, in sickness and in health, in excitement and in grief, we are always surrounded and filled by the Spirit of God. So light can bathe us, joy can transport us no matter what happens because we have been infused, at every moment, with the God who never lets us go.
That’s the first thing Isaiah means by the “sunrise glory [that] breaks over us”: God’s light never stops shining on us. The second thing the prophet suggests with this gleaming image is that God works through you and me to shine that light into the world. On a photocopier in the church’s main office there is a little sign that says simply, “Be the reason someone smiles today.” Every time I see that sign, I’m reminded that I have the power to make that difference in someone’s life. As do you.
One of the ways we can transmit this light is in the ways we lead, something nearly all of us do in one way or another—in the family, at work, in the community. The best and most effective leadership happens when we affirm the people with whom we live and work.
One of our sons, Taylor, is a college track and field coach. A few weeks ago, Taylor was at a national convention of the sport’s coaches. One of the keynote speakers there was a man named Paul Olsen. Olsen is now retired as a professor of English at Augustana College in Rock Island, IL. For fifty years, he also coached track and field and cross country at Augustana, with great success. Olsen told the story at this convention of a study that was done of elementary school students running a race. The students were divided into three groups, and told to run a short race. When the first group finished, they were given no reaction at all, just silence. When the second group finished, they were given nothing but praise; they were told how well they had run and what a great job they had done. When the third group finished, they, too, were told how well they had run and, in addition, they were given some suggestions about how they might improve the next time.
When all three groups ran the same race a second time, you might want to guess how well the three different groups did. Unsurprisingly, the first group, the one that was given no reaction to their first race, performed almost identically the second time. With neither praise nor criticism, their performance stayed the same.
When the second group, the one that was given only praise, ran again, they improved. Affirmation had a positive effect on these fledgling athletes, as well you might guess.
Then there was the third group, the group that was given praise at the end of their race, as well as some pointers about how they might get better. The striking thing is that the performance in this group declined. They didn’t even equal their first race. They took a step backward. I confess I was stunned to hear this. Wouldn’t you think, if people were praised and also shown how they might get better, that it would have a positive effect—‘you did well, and here are some ways you could improve’? If you’re like me, you might well have guessed that this was now the highest-performing group. Quite to the contrary, though, they were now the lowest-performing group.
It turns out that if you both praise and criticize someone, all they hear is the criticism. What they hear is, “Blah, blah, blah, and if only you did this, you’d be so much better.” In other words, “You’re not really that good, and if you want my approval, you’d better work harder.”
This is a sobering realization for those of us who are parents and for people who lead in any capacity. Obviously, there are certain things you have to criticize and say no to—we don’t let toddlers stick screw drivers into electric sockets. We insist that our children learn to say “please” and “thank you.” At work, we want to ensure that we produce the best product and keep costs to a minimum and do the surgery skillfully.
The question, though, is how we do that. Do we lead others to do their best work by berating and nagging and constantly suggesting? Or does people’s finest work happen when we make it a real priority to praise and affirm and thank our colleagues and family members for the light they bring into the world? We bring light into other people’s lives when we them how much we appreciate them, when we affirm their presence, when we let them know they mean something to us. We bring light into the world when we live peaceably with our neighbors, both those across the street and those across the world.
When the Magi make their trip to the manger to find the baby Jesus who will be their ruler and savior, they follow a light. That light is the light of God. It’s the light that Isaiah tells us has come. It’s the light that overcomes the darkness (cf. John 1:5). It’s the light that transforms the world. It’s the light that brings a radiant joy and peace. It’s the light that lets everybody know they are a special child of God. It’s the light that lets us rise and shine. So, as we prepare to receive the meal God gives us to fill our hearts, join me if you want, as together we sing an old children’s song:
Rise and shine, and give God the glory, glory
Rise and shine, and give God the glory, glory
Rise and shine, and give God the glory, glory
Children of the Lord.
May we go forth from here to bask in that light, and to shine it wherever we go, in the name of the risen Christ.