God's Table

The days that we live in feel heavy. They are punctuated with political upheaval, divisive opinions, weariness within the family structure, and uncertainty in our houses of worship.

We pull and tug with each other over every imaginable opinion. Our hearts beat with a heaviness over war and mistreatment of those who bear the mark of being “different.” Our world is damaged by greed and misuse.

When I feel the weight of it all, I pray for a way to move forward. I want to find community, acceptance, and fairness. I remember the words of Micah 6:8 and pray that I can live into them.

He has told you, O mortal, what is good; and what does the Lord require of you but to do justice, and to love kindness, and to walk humbly with your God?

As we approach this season of Thanksgiving, we anticipate the gathering of family and friends around a common table. In our gathering, may we remember that God invites all to the table in loving hospitality. God’s table is set with peace, gratitude, humility, and acceptance of all.

In 1998, Shirley Erena Murray wrote a beautiful hymn titled, For Everyone Born. This hymn represented the Christian equivalent of the “Universal Declaration of Human Rights,” drafted by the U.N. General Council. In the hymn, she speaks about the basic human rights of all people to have adequate shelter, to abide in safety, to have enough food, and to exercise their right to free speech and worship. Through the years this hymn has expanded to remind us that we are a diverse people, yet each of us is invited to God’s table.

If you don’t know this hymn, I invite you to listen to it and make its text a prayer of your heart.

You can find several beautiful renderings of this hymn online. Here is just one for you to enjoy.

For Everyone Born

For everyone born, a place at the table, for everyone born, clean water and bread, a shelter, a space, a safe place for growing, for everyone born, a star overhead.

Refrain: And God will delight when we are creators of justice and joy,

Compassion and peace.

Yes, God will delight when we are creators of justice and joy.

For woman and man, a place at the table, revising the roles, deciding the share, with wisdom and grace, dividing the power, for woman and man, a system that’s fair.

For young and for old, a place at the table, a voice to be heard, a part in the song, the hands of a child in hands that are wrinkled, for young and for old, the right to belong.

For everyone born, a place at the table,

To live without fear, and simply to be,

To work, to speak out, to witness and worship,

For everyone born, the right to be free.

Shirley Erena Murray

Ryder's Lullaby

Lullabies are ancient songs. Their beginnings date back to 2,000 B.C. Babylonia. However, the words of those early lullabies were far from calming and soothing. The first recorded lullaby sounded more like a threat as it warned the baby to stop crying lest they disturb the house gods and force their wrath upon the family.

Even as lullabies evolved they continued to carry a warning or reprimand. We find that to be true in one lullaby that is still sung today. Rock-A-Bye-Baby possesses a warning about limbs breaking sending the cradle and baby falling to the ground.

Fortunately, in recent years, lullabies have changed their tune. While many still adhere to their predecessors' rhythmic triple meter and swaying lilt, contemporary lullabies tend to offer more soothing and prayerful words.

Singing a lullaby is an effective way to bring peace and solace to a fussy, tired baby. As a parent sings and sways, the baby feels comforted and loved. In this act, parents are literally holding their baby in love and creating for that child a beautiful image of how God loves and holds each of us.

Last month, on August 14, Ryder Hendley Goff, came peacefully into the world. I say peacefully because he literally didn’t cry for several hours after his birth. Nothing was wrong with him. His vitals were good and his skin was a healthy pink. He simply came into the world at peace.

Of course, the tears came later, and that was okay. I like to believe that Ryder was born knowing that he was loved and wanted and that his parents waited in patient hope for his arrival.

Ryder made me, and my husband, Cass, grandparents for the first time. He has shown us a new depth of love that we didn’t know existed. Holding this precious boy, feeling his soft warm breath against our cheek, smelling the sweetness of his downy hair, and simply holding the weight of him in our arms is an indescribable feeling. He has awakened a new love in us causing us to see the world with new eyes – eyes that know that God continues to create and make all things new, despite the destruction and violence we see in the world. God comes to us in new life.

We have also loved watching our daughter and son-in-law, Caitlyn and Brennan, become parents. They have anticipated this day for a long time, and they have waited in faith for God to bring Ryder into their lives. Listening to them pour out their love for him with their tender words and prayers has been a beautiful experience.

In the days ahead, we will sing lullabies to Ryder, and we will pray that the comfort he feels when we hold him, will be just a small reflection of the love that God has for him. We want Ryder to know that he is held, not only in the arms of his family but most importantly, in God's arms.

Ryder's Lullaby

Gently, sweetly soft blue eyes

Peer into my heart.

You awaken love in me,

Treasure of my heart.

(Refrain)

You are a new song.

Sung within my heart.

Sleep in peace, my precious one.

God holds you this night.

Onward move the stars and moon,

Until the new day dawns.

May their light shine down on you.

Treasure of my heart.

(Refrain)

Sun’s new light will bring the day.

Birds will sing their song.

Slumber now, and rest your eyes.

Treasure of my heart.

(Refrain)

Singing In a Strange Land

By the rivers of Babylon – there we sat down and there we wept when we remembered Zion.

On the willows there we hung up our harps. For there, our captors asked us for songs, and our tormentors asked for mirth, saying, “Sing us one of the songs of Zion! How could we sing the Lord’s song in a strange land?” Psalm 137:1-4

“How do we sing the Lord’s song in a strange land?” That was the question posed by the Israelites when they were enslaved in the land of Babylon.

Psalm 137 is a psalm of lament. It was written while the people of Israel were being held captive. Far away from their homeland, their oppressors chided them requiring of them a song. “Sing us the songs of Zion,” they teased. And the cry of the Lord’s children came back, “How can we sing the Lord’s song in a strange land?”

At this time in the history of Israel, God’s people were homesick. They were mournful. They were robbed of their physical and emotional energy to sing the songs of Zion, even to the point of hanging up their harps among the willow trees. They gave up their song.

Singing is one of my joys. I have a memory of being around the age of nine years old and riding in the car with my mom. As she drove, I was singing along to the radio when she remarked that I had a pretty voice and asked if I would like to take some voice lessons. That moment marked a beginning for me. My mom recognized something in me and gave me the opportunity to develop that skill.

From that point on, music became a driving force in my life. It was my joy and passion to sing. There were piano lessons, guitar lessons, school choruses, church choirs, and lots of practice sessions. I would go on to major in music in college and seminary and earn degrees in church music and vocal performance.

Music has been a gift in my life. Beyond giving me an academic and career focus, music has been a means for experiencing the Divine in my life. There have been times when music has taken me into a sacred space where I have felt closer to God than in any other time or space. It has been in those moments when I have felt that I was experiencing “the Lord’s song” much like the Hebrew children did.

For many years, I dwelt in a land where I could sing my songs. I was in a place where the melodies flowed easily and the harmonies were pleasing. To make music with fellow musicians who share the same passion; to stand beside my brothers and sisters in the church and proclaim the goodness of God through hymn singing; to listen to the quiet joy of children singing; and to feel the power of a lone voice raising an Easter alleluia – that was my Zion.

Things changed. Life changed. I had to leave the familiar place and travel to a distant land. It is a place I never expected to be. The ground is unfamiliar. The scenery has changed. No, I am not a slave like the Israelites, but I have found myself in an unexpected place and the question of the Hebrew children has become my question. – “how do I sing the Lord’s song in a strange land?”

The strange land may look different for each of us. For some, it may be a new job, a new home, or a new relationship. For others, it may be a diagnosis, the loss of a loved one, or the severing of a relationship. Like the Israelites, we have intentionally laid aside our song, hung up our harps, and wept. Our tears have mingled with the streams that have flowed through our lives, and we have only had the energy to sit down and cry.

How do we take up the song again? When will the Lord give us a voice that is loosened from the tight grip of grief? When will we retrieve our harps from the willows and make music again? How do we sing the Lord’s song in a strange land?

What I am learning through my experience of living in a foreign land, is that God dwells in foreign places too. I am learning that there are other places to sing and other people to sing the song with me. I am discovering that my True Self goes with me – the essence of who I am is never lost to God.

Frederick Buechner says it this way, “Maybe, in the end, it is Zion that we are lonely for, the place we know best by longing for it, where at last we become who we are, where finally we find home.”