devoblog: Matt Kennedy
Alright Everyone, I’ve very excited and proud to bring you the newest regular feature here on the northslope blog…. weekly devotions/stories brought to you by a variety of people. This was an idea of Neil Peterson a friend who served with me at KICY.
I’d love to have you post your thoughts, comments and encouragement to those who share their lives here with you.
If you’d like to participate PLEASE email me right away as I’m looking to setup a schedule here pretty soon.
Hello, I’m Matt Kennedy, longtime friend and sometimes compatriot of the Josh “the Northslope Blogger” Rogers. I recently spent two years on staff at Harbor Covenant Church in Gig Harbor, WA with a brief stint this past summer at Cascades Camp and Conference Center. My lovely wife Nicole and I are now living in Chicago, IL and studying at North Park Theological Seminary.
I’ve been back living in Chicago for six weeks but I’m still adjusting to life in a new town and as a student. Part of that adjustment has been adapting to life without cable TV. So unless I want to watch Good Times reruns or the WB (it’s hard to say which is worse), I’ve turned to PBS for my viewing entertainment (more often edu-tainment!). Last week public broadcasting treated me with Martin Scorsese’s documentary No Direction Home, a biography of Bob Dylan. Dylan fans easily identify the movie’s title as a line from his 1966 hit “Like a Rolling Stone”, but the title also reveals the essence of Bob Dylan’s story. Early in the movie Dylan says, “I was born far from where I was supposed to be, so maybe I’m on my way home.” His words articulated something inside of me. Since moving to Chicago I realize that I really miss the Pacific Northwest. I’ve lived away from Washington before, but now more than ever I miss home. You see, my grandfather past away just a few days ago. He suffered for a long time and I’m glad he is now at peace, but what saddens me is that when Grandpa died both my mom and her sister were out of town when it happened. None of us were there for my grandma when her husband passed on. When the news came I felt helpless. How do I get back to where I’m supposed to be?
The ancient Hebrews had a word for a person “with no direction home”, they were called gurh– Sometimes translated strangers, aliens, or sojourners; they were wandering people, without homes or family to speak of. They were vulnerable, often mentioned alongside widows and orphans, and in the ancient world (not much unlike ours) they were frequently unnoticed and forgotten altogether. But God says to them that he is their God. “The LORD watches over the stranger, he upholds the widow and the orphan” (Psalm 146.5). God is on their side, he is particular towards them and literally hundred’s of texts from the Old Testament affirm this. My grandmother proved this true. When I called to talk to her about grandpa’s death, the first thing she said was, “I was not alone when your grandpa died. I knew the Lord was there with me.” My eyes well up again as I type the words, their truth touches me deeply. Our God Yahweh is the God of widows and orphans.
These days the circumstances of my life make me feel a little like a mattress balancing on a bottle of wine. I miss the security, the familiarity, and the comfort of home. But the promise of God’s word is that he is closer to me now than when I am safe and happy. Though I have few friends to turn to in my new city, God is with me. Though the balance of my bank account is precariously low, God is with me. Though my family is far away, God is with me. God is my home, he is my fortress.
Being a fan of Bob Dylan and a Rock ‘n Roll mystic, I listen for spiritual truth in the poet’s gravely voice. While I now feel disoriented, my mind remembers this song and my soul waits a little better for God’s peace:
‘Twas in another lifetime, one of toil and blood
when blackness was a virtue and the road was full of mud
I came in from the wilderness, a creature void of form.
“Come in,” she said,
“I’ll give you shelter from the storm.”
-Shelter from the Storm, 1975
Christ invites us to “abide with him” (John 15.4), to make our home in him. Location and circumstance are not your home. I do not live in Chicago. I live in Christ and Christ in me. When my heart is near God’s, I am where I’m supposed to be. The veil between heaven and earth is paper thin. My grandfather is now in the eternal place Jesus prepared for him (John 14.3), but none of us who believe are far from it.
Emmanuel, God with us, be near to us as we wander. Be our familiar home. Help us to know you are present. I thank you that I am not alone and that no power in the entire world can change that. Lord would you comfort those who grieve and make my heart willing to grieve with them. Amen.
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