JOY COMES WITH THE MORNING

A sermon by the Rev. Dr. James G. Kirk

Harundale Presbyterian Church

Glen Burnie, Maryland

April 28, 2001

Text: "Joy comes with the morning." (Psalm 30:5)

First Reading: Acts 9:1-6

Second Reading: Rev. 5:11-14

Again, I have to thank my primary sermon illustration researcher, Jim Ryba, for the following story. "Itshak Perlman, the violinist, came on stage to give a concert at Avery Fisher Hall at Lincoln Center in New York City. If you have ever been to a Perlman concert, you know that getting on stage is no small achievement for him. He was stricken with polio as a child, and so he has braces on both legs and walks with the aid of two crutches. To see him walk across the stage one step at a time, painfully and slowly, is an unforgettable sight. He walks painfully, yet majestically, until he reaches his chair. Then he sits down, slowly puts his crutches on the floor, undoes the clasps on his legs, tucks one foot back and extends the other foot forward. Then he bends down and picks up the violin, puts it under his chin, nods to the conductor and proceeds to play.

By now, the audience is used to this ritual. They sit quietly while he makes his way across the stage to his chair. They remain reverently silent while he undoes the clasps on his legs. They wait until he is ready to play. But this time, something went wrong. Just as he finished the first few bars, one of the strings on his violin broke. You could hear it snap. It went off like gunfire across the room. There was no mistaking what that sound meant. There was no mistaking what he had to do. People who were there that night thought to themselves: ‘We figured that he would have to get up, put on the clasps again, pick up the crutches and limp his way off stage – either to find another violin or else find another string for this one.’ But he didn’t. Instead, he waited a moment, closed his eyes, and then signaled the conductor to begin again.

The orchestra began, and he played from where he’d left off. And he played with such passion and such power and such purity as he had never before. Of course, anyone knows that it is impossible to play a symphonic work with just three strings. I know that, and you know that, but that night Itzhak Perlman refused to know that. You could see him modulating, changing, and recomposing the piece in his head. At one point, it sounded like he was de-tuning the strings to get new sounds from them that they had never made before.

When he finished there was an awesome silence in the room. And then people rose and cheered. There was an extraordinary outburst of applause from every corner of the auditorium. We were all on our feet, screaming and cheering, doing everything we could to show how much we appreciated what he had done. He smiled, wiped the sweat from his brow, raised his bow to quiet us, and then he said, not boastfully, but in a quiet, pensive, reverent tone, ‘You know, sometimes it is the artist’s task to find out how much music you can still make with what you have left.’

What a powerful line that is. It has stayed in my mind ever since I heard it. And who know? Perhaps that is the way of life – not just for artists, but for all of us. Here is a man who has prepared all his life to make music on a violin of four strings, who, all of a sudden, in the middle of a concert, finds himself with only three strings. So he makes music with three strings, and the music he made that night with just three strings was more beautiful, more sacred, more memorable, than any that he had ever made before, when he had four strings. So, perhaps our task in this shaky, fast-changing, bewildering world in which we live is to make music, at first with all that we have, and then, when that is no longer possible, to make music with what we have left." (Jack Riemer, Houston Chronicle, "Violin Story," Nov. 18, 1995.)

Perhaps that is the way of life. It certainly was for the psalmist. Walter Brueggemann reminds us how our psalm tells the story of someone going into trouble and coming out of trouble. (The Message of the Psalms, page 126) "I will extol you, O Lord, for you have drawn me up, and did not let my foes rejoice over me. O lord my God, I cried to you for help, and you have healed me." How many times have we gone through that experience? We don’t need to spell out the details. The psalmist doesn’t. But it is evident that whatever happened there is now hope. "God has drawn me up. God has healed me. God has lifted up my life and restored me to life."

This past Thursday, Mary Snyder underwent emergency surgery to have her spleen removed. Her platelet count has kept dropping, and something needed to be done rather quickly before it got to a life threatening level. When Elizabeth and I went to call on her prior to the surgery she was completely relaxed. The doctors had told her the seriousness of the surgery. She could bleed to death. Of course, she was concerned, yet she had a serenity about her that was obvious. I asked her how she felt, and she told us that she had made her peace with God. She knew she was in God’s hands, and there was nothing more she herself could do about it. God would be there with her throughout the entire procedure. "You have drawn me up. You have healed me. You have lifted up my life and restored me to life."

It’s not enough for the psalmist to give thanks to God for this new life. He goes on to invite the community to join with him. "Sing praises to the Lord, O you his faithful ones, and give thanks to his holy name. For his anger is but for a moment; his favor is for a lifetime. Weeping may linger for the night, but joy comes with the morning." In Acts we are told about Paul’s conversion experience. God had every right to be angry with Paul. Paul had been intent on breaking down what God was trying to accomplish. But God didn’t let that get in God’s way. Instead God gave Paul a good jolt and re-oriented his thinking. Paul went on to become one of God’s more powerful emissaries. God’s favor is for a lifetime and weeping may linger for the night, but joy comes with the morning. How often do we rejoice when someone who’s been on our prayer list writes words of thanks in the Spire? It’s then time for the entire community to rejoice at their health that’s been restored. For example, in the latest Spire Charlotte Pardoe wrote, "Through you, He touched me. Thank you, one and all for coming to my aid, while I had my left arm in a cast. It was a long eight weeks. I learned a lot in that time. One, it is nice to have family, friends, and a church family to help you in a crisis. You can even find things to laugh about and a lot of people and things to be thankful for. I have a lot more respect for the handicapped people these days. Have you ever tried to tie your shoestrings with one hand and a finger! (Try it one day.) God is good! He puts the right people in our lives when we need help. I would love to name you all but do not want to leave anyone out. I do remember you all in my prayers. Thank God for you all. I am truly blest."

"You know, sometimes it is the artist’s task to find out how much music you can still make with what you have left…And who knows? Perhaps that is the way of life – not just for artists but for all of us….So, perhaps our task in this shaky, fast-changing, bewildering world in which we live is to make music, at first with all that we have, and the, when that is no longer possible, to make music with what we have left."

For all of us there are times when the night is long and hard. It was so last week for Mary Snyder. But when I saw her on Friday after her Thursday night surgery, the first thing she said was, "hey, I made it till morning!" "Joy comes with the morning."

Thanks be to God,

Amen