Try a Little Tenderness Based on Isaiah 40:1-11 and Ephesians 4:1-3 A Sermon Offered by Toby Jones to the FCUCC – April 30, 2017

We live in a bully’s world. The 21st century has established itself as an era of mean-spiritedness. Our American political system is now characterized by vitriol and gridlock. Our two parties have reached a point where they will literally not enter the same room together, much less carve out any compromise or agreement for the greater good of the nation. Our “news” programs are filled with shouting and endless finger pointing, so much so that we’re probably better off not watching it at all. And when we can manage to stomach watching the news, we’re bound to hear of another bomb going off somewhere or some leader threatening to use military force to get his way. And then there is what often happens in our own homes – even mine. We get frustrated with our loved ones. We resort to harsh words, hoping that our verbal barbs and jabs will somehow bring about what we want. It can even happen here in church. Our pastor or committee chairperson will say or do something that we disagree with, and we’ll respond in a harsh, unkind, or thoughtless way. My mentor pastor all the way back in seminary told me a story that I’ve not only not forgotten, but I’ve actually experienced myself. She’d had a very bad week. A small child from her congregation had died suddenly. Her long time advocate and chair of the trustees had just received a stage four cancer diagnosis, and on top of all that, one of her closest friends had been killed in a car accident. It was all Pastor Anne could do to put a sermon together for Sunday and somehow get through preaching it. But she did, and after the service, she was standing in the back greeting people, as I do every Sunday, and a little, old, retired woman came up to her and the first words out of her mouth were these: “I don’t see why we had to sing those hymns today. I didn’t like a single one of them. Why can’t we sing the old favorites?” Pastor Anne took a deep breath, smiled, opted not to shake that woman’s hand, and said, “Melanie, if that is truly all you have to be concerned about today, I sure hope you’ll go straight home, get on your knees, and thank God that your life isn’t any more complicated than that. Who’s next?” I’ve felt like saying similar words more times than I care to admit. But that’s a story for another sermon. Today, I want us to talk about tenderness…gentleness. Our world sorely needs it folks. Our country desperately needs it. Our families desperately need it. In our first passage for the morning, Isaiah calls upon the image of a shepherd to convey what God is like. “Comfort, comfort my people, says your God. Speak tenderly to Jerusalem…For He tends his flock like a shepherd; He gathers the lambs in his arms and carries them close to his heart.” Who can ever forget the way King David used this same gentle shepherd language to help us better understand what God is truly like: The Lord is my shepherd I shall not want. He makes me lie down in green pastures, He leads me beside still waters; He restores my soul…” It is so great that we have such a gentle, tender God. But if we read the scriptures carefully, if we really look at what Jesus was trying to accomplish, we’ll see very quickly that it wasn’t simply to have us recognize that our God is a gentle shepherd; it was to inspire us to be gentle shepherds ourselves! Jesus wasn’t gentle and tender to that woman caught in adultery so that we would stand up and applaud him for his gentleness. Jesus was gentle with her in that awful situation in the hope that WE, too, would be gentle and tender with the people in our lives who get caught in bad situations. Jesus wasn’t a gentle shepherd to those little children who wanted to come sit in his lap – the ones his disciples were shooing away – so that we’d praise him for his gentleness. He did that in the hope that we would always be gentle, tender, and welcoming to the children in our lives. Jesus wasn’t so gentle and tender with that Roman soldier whose daughter had died so that we would admire him for being gentle and tender to an enemy. Jesus treated that bereaved enemy soldier that way so that we might be equally gentle and tender to the enemies in our lives. Folks, the world we live in is so brutal and mean and seems to get more so every day. As Bruce Springsteen put it in the final line of his haunting ballad “Nebraska,” “I guess there’s just a meanness in this world.” And do you know what happens the meaner the world gets? We tend to get meaner ourselves. Or as Jesus puts it in Matthew 24:12, “As wickedness is multiplied, most men’s love will grow cold.” (Repeat) Those of us who dare to call ourselves Christ followers simply cannot let that happen to us. As the wickedness and harshness and meanness in our world multiply, we mustn’t let our love grow cold. Our gentleness is what needs to multiply – now more than ever! In a million little, tiny ways, we have to inject more gentleness into this world. Try a little tenderness. Try a little tenderness. If you’re a student at Gaylord High School and you know of a kid who is being picked on because he’s gay or she’s lesbian, bisexual, transgender, or questioning, sit with that person at lunch. Have a gentle, tender conversation. If you’re aware of a person struggling physically or emotionally with pain of any kind, say or write something gentle to him. Ask God to inspire you with a gentle way of encouraging that person. I met with Brenda Brummel this week to find out how she was doing with this awful search for her niece’s plane that disappeared in the Sierra Mountains. I asked her what I or we could do for her and she told me a story of something that happened just last week. A young, college aged boy who had been in Brenda’s youth group a few years back just came up and hugged her, held onto her gently, tenderly. What a difference gentleness and tenderness can make. What a difference. Our friend Margaret Soller, who is dealing with the after effects of some really painful neck surgery, has somehow still been managing to come into the church office two mornings a week to help us out. We spoke this week about how she was doing, and she mentioned that she’s having a tough time catching up on her flower garden and lawn work. I told her that that didn’t sound too good for her neck, and I asked if we could put together a small team of avid gardeners and helpers to do that for her. She teared up at the suggestion. (If you’re interested in helping out over at Margaret’s place, Doreen Dobosy is our point person on that little exercise in tenderness.) About a month ago, a local Gaylord man named “Jacko” suddenly died. He was a poor man, who ran a struggling, little snowplow business. We called him once this winter when Joe English was off on guard duty, and Jacko cleared our lot and walks for us after a big storm. Vicky found out he died and ran into one of his friends in town. She offered her condolences and then asked if there’d be a memorial service for him. The woman hadn’t even thought of it. Jacko had no family around, no church connection, and no means, so this woman wasn’t sure how something like a service could ever be put together. Vicky gently offered that we’d be happy to host something to celebrate Jacko’s life right here in our church, if they’d like. It’s amazing what a little tenderness can do. I don’t mind confessing to you, my family of faith, that looking back over the 55 years of my life, gentleness and tenderness are not what I’m most known for. In fact, when I get my feelings hurt or my feathers ruffled, I can say some things that can be downright hurtful. I’m glad I still have some life left to try a little tenderness. I’ve learned – even lately – that the hardest time to be gentle is when I’m feeling low or taken for granted, hurried or mistreated by others. But that’s no excuse for not being gentle. If the world needs a little tenderness, then I’ve got to be a part of the solution, or else I’m a part of the problem. So whatever your role in life is these days, may you be a gentle shepherd.

If you are a parent or grandparent, may you gently and tenderly enfold the sheep of your flock in your arms.

If you are a boss or a co-worker, may you gently and tenderly encourage those on your staff.

If you are a student, may you be a gentle and tender shepherd to those on the outside, those who aren’t on the team, in the band, or a part of the club. May no one ever sit alone in your school cafeteria.

If you are a teacher, may you be gentle with your students. They are the sheep God has entrusted to you. May they feel forever safe and valued in your presence.

If you are a neighbor, may you be a gentle shepherd to those on your block who live alone. May you reach out in tenderness to them.

If you are a spouse or a partner, may you try a little tenderness at home. May your gentleness be the first thing your partner notices each day when she rises and the last thing he experiences before falling asleep.

Paul put it this way in Ephesians 4: “I urge you, my brothers and sisters, to live a life worthy of the calling you have received from the Good Shepherd Himself. Be completely humble and gentle. Be patient, bearing with one another in love.” Jesus predicted that as wickedness and harshness were multiplied in the world, most people’s love would grow cold…most people’s love would grow cold…most people’s. But Jesus is still really hoping that you and I won’t be like most people. Amen.