This morning I want to talk about grace;
not the grace of God as we usually think about the grace of God,
that unmerited, unlimited, unconditional, unsurpassed
and unending love of God for each of us
which, as the hymn writer puts it, truly is amazing.
No  ~  not that grace.
I want to speak about those moments that come to us,
those glorious, shining moments that confirm,
while so much about us may want to deny it,
the beauty
        the loveliness
                the tenderness
                        and the joy of life.

Moments of grace are those surprising moments which,
        if we have eyes to see them and hearts to respond to them,
                bear witness to the faith and courage and hope of others
                        and can inspire us to graceful living.
                                They are what others call every day miracles.

So how do we catch such moments of grace?

1.     I believe we catch the moment of grace
        when we learn to see things the way Jesus did  ~
        through the eyes of love.

James Taylor, in his book “Two Worlds In One”
writes abouta fellow that everyone called Big Art Gibbs
                who stood about six foot eighteen
                        and weighed as much as two ordinary men.
                                He was a police sergeant.
                                        For four years, he was chief usher in his congregation.

When he first took over as chief usher he wore his police boots.
        At least they sounded like boots at the back of the church.
                It took awhile to convince him to wear soft-soled shoes.

Big Art had a parade ground voice, incapable of whispering.
        He did a great job of bringing new people in as ushers.
                But when he gave his novice ushers the word
                        to carry the offering forward to be dedicated,
                                everyone could hear him.

And when they said the Lord’s Prayer
        the congregation was as likely to follow his voice  ~
                even without a microphone  ~  as the minister’s.
        And sometimes he ushered in a fluorescent-blue sports coat.
His mannerisms bothered a lot of people ~ including James Taylor.

One day he and Art Gibbs were standing in the narthex together.
        Big Art was greeting the people as they arrived
                and he wondered what he must be like to live with.
                        Did he drive his wife up the wall?

At that moment, he realized that she was watching him, too.
What he saw in her eyes in that unguarded moment
was not anger or frustration or despair, but love.
For her, he wasn’t an oversized, overly-loud, heavy footed embarrassment.
He just happened to have a few awkward limbs
attached to an enormous heart.

When James Taylor tried to see him the same way ~
through the eyes of love ~
it made an enormous difference.

He began to see the time and dedication he gave his church,
        the tenderness he showed his grandchildren,
                the depth and strength of his faith.

A time came when Big Art was diagnosed with cancer and had major surgery.
        Half his jaw and tongue were removed.
It was a shock for many people.
        They missed hearing his voice boom out in the Lord’s Prayer.
It wasn’t until they realized they could lose him
        that they saw him with different eyes.

He wasn’t really any different.
He had lost a lot of weight, and spoke with difficulty
and for the first time, in a whisper.
But he was still the same Big Art.
The difference was in the way they looked at him.

If we want to catch the moment of grace
we will have to learn to see people as Jesus did  ~ through the eyes of love,
and hear them through ears of love,
to allow ourselves be touched by them.

Some time ago I conducted a service at a nursing home.
These dear souls  ~ 
some of them incontinent …
some suffering from dementia …
most in wheelchairs …
all of them in physical need of some kind  ~
had gathered in the activities room with the assistance of staff members.

During the service I read these words which I read a moment ago,
Leslie Brandt’s interpretation of the 23rd Psalm,
and added a few words of my own …

The Lord is my constant companion.  God is your companion, too, I said.
There is no need that God cannot fulfill.  Even your needs, I said.
Whether God’s course for me points
                to the mountain tops of glorious ecstasy
                or to the valleys of human suffering,
        God is by my side.
        God is ever present with me.  And God is present with you, I said.
God is close beside me
                when I tread the dark streets of danger,
                and even when I flirt with death itself,
        God will not leave me.
When the pain is severe  ~
       and we all suffer from some kind of pain, don’t we, I said  ~
              God is near to comfort.
When the burden is heavy  ~
       and we all have our burdens, don’t we, I said  ~
               God is there to lean upon.
When depression darkens my soul  ~
        and we all have those dark times that can overwhelm us, I said  ~
                God touches me with eternal joy.
When I feel empty and alone  ~
       and haven’t all of us felt empty and alone at times, I said  ~
               God fills the aching vacuum with power.
My security is in God’s promise
                to be near me always
        and in the knowledge
              that God will never let me go.

When I had finished reading the psalm I asked a question:
Why would God care for us so much?
Why would God be like that towards us?

And I gave this simple answer: because God loves you.
Loves you not because you’re perfect …
loves you not because you’re beautiful …
loves you not because you’re healthy, or ill …
but loves you just because you’re you.

And then I walked over to a man named Bill,
placed my hand on his shoulder,
and asked those who were there what they saw.
Bill  ~  big like Art Gibbs, and gentle  ~
is a man who can’t sing the words to the hymns so he just hums along …
a man who can’t count pages so when we do sing
I open up his song book to the right spot …
a man whose poorly fitting dentures click in his mouth …
a loveable man, but slow.

I placed my hand on his shoulder
        and as his head was bowed down
                I asked those who were there what they saw?
                        Someone answered:  “I see a wonderful man.”
His head still bowed, he lifted up his eyes.
                                        A smile lit up his face.
                                                We caught a moment of grace.

I walked over to Mabel, who plays the piano.
        She plays the piano like many of us type  ~  with one finger.
                When you ask her to raise the key because it’s too low,
                        she complies by raising it an octave.

I cupped her smiling face in my hands, looked into her eyes,
and asked the question: “What do you see?”

And someone answered,
“I see a beautiful woman.”
Mabel blushed, girlishly.
We caught a moment of grace.

Jesus saw real people ~ not perfect people.
        But He saw in them creatures created in God’s image.
                He saw people  ~
                        no matter who they were
                                or what they were like
                                        or what they looked like  ~
                                                as the objects of God’s love.

When we can somehow get past the exterior,
        past our prejudices,
                out of the shallows and into the deep,
                        and see others as people whom God loves,
                                even as we are loved,
                                        we have that glorious chance to catch a moment of grace.

2.     And we can catch the moment of grace
        when we learn to see in life’s situations and `in the world around us
        the touch of the hand of God.

Does anyone here remember the singer Frankie Lane?
I sure do.
When I was a kid, long before there were ipods and mp3 players …
long before there were long playing records
playing at 33 revolutions per minute
there were 45 records with the big hole in the middle.

Mom had lots of them, and I remember the artists and their songs:
people like Jan Pierce singing The Bluebird Of Happiness …

and Vaughan Monroe singing Ghost Riders In The Sky …
and Spike Jones and the City Slickers singing Tea For Two …
 and Mario Lanza singing Because.

And I remember Frankie Lane.  On one side of the 45 record I liked
        Frankie Lane sang a Hank Williams song called Your Cheatin’ Heart.
And on the flip side was another song … an inspirational song:  I Believe.

I loved listening to Frankie Lane sing … and I loved that song. (Jim play)
These are the words …

I believe for every drop of rain that falls a flower grows
I believe that somewhere in the darkest night a candle glows
I believe for everyone who goes astray
someone will come to show the way
I believe
I believe

I believe above the storm the smallest prayer will still be heard
I believe that someone in the great somewhere hears every word
Every time I hear a new born baby cry
Or touch a leaf or see the sky
Then I know why I believe.

What those words speak of to me
are those moments of grace, the everyday miracles
found in gentle rains and flowers …
found in the candle’s glow that can brighten the darkness …
found in a life that was lost now saved because someone cared …
found in the profound ways in which simple prayer is answered …
found in the cry of a new born baby …
found in the miracles around us like a simple leaf or the vastness of the sky.

And if we have not only the eyes to see it
but the hearts to respond to it
we can see in these moments of grace the hand of God:
a loving, guiding, caring hand
that turns the ordinary into something extraordinary …
that reminds us of the goodness and promise of life.

When I was at the nursing home the other day,
        while we were getting settled and ready to begin the service,
                a kitten darted into the room  ~
                        one of the pets they keep at the place.
                                It was a little grey kitten with a bell round its neck.
It darted here and there …
around the room …
underneath the wheelchairs.

We had a good laugh as I tried to catch the thing.
        Big, long-legged me … little, short-legged it.
                I had about as much luck catching it as I used to have chasing my kids.
                        I asked those who were there if the kitten was a Christian
                                and suggested that if I caught it I should baptize it.
                                        Well, the kitten escaped: my grasp … and its baptism.

In that dreary place, that little grey kitten, I believe,
brought us a moment of grace  ~  a moment of joy.
God’s hand was in it and we were witnesses to it.

Later in the service, I asked my friend, Bill  ~
the one described as a “wonderful man”  ~
and probably the most capable of those who were there,
except for “beautiful Mabel”  ~
to assist me in serving communion.
I could not serve them alone.

We prayed the Lord’s Prayer together.
        I broke the bread and said, “The body of Christ, broken for you.”
I held up the cup, filled with grape juice, and said,
                        “This cup is the sign and the promise of Christ’s love for you.”

When we were ready to serve them
        I gave Bill the silver tray which held the bread
                and I carried the silver tray which held the small cups of grape juice.

We went to each person.  Some could handle the bread and juice,
and without my prompting, Bill said to them, “The body of Christ.”

There were others who could not serve themselves,
        and Bill, this wonderful man,
                gently and lovingly took pieces of bread from the tray,
                        placed it in their mouths, and said, “The body of Christ.”

In his big, calloused hands the hand of God was at work.
In his words, “The body of Christ,” spoken softly,
the voice of God was speaking.
We caught a moment of grace.

There are moments of grace all the time.
        They aren’t the front page, bold type kinds of things.
                They’re the small, daily things that often go unnoticed.
                        They’re the stuff that life is made of:
                        the laughter of a child … the hug from a friend …
                the encouraging word from a colleague …
the smell of rain freshly fallen … and coffee freshly brewed …
a moment of quiet in the midst of our busyness.

And if we have eyes to see them
and faith to sense God’s presence in them,
we’ll catch them  ~  these moments of grace.

They are affirming moments …
glorious, shining moments that can touch our hearts.
They are moments that declare,
not as they are shouted but as they are whispered,
while all about us might deny it,
the beauty
and loveliness
and tenderness
and courage
and joy of life.

One man caught it
when he looked at Big Art Gibbs through the eyes of love.
A room full of needy people caught it
with wonderful Bill and beautiful Mabel.
I caught it when listening to Frankie Lane sing I Believe
and realizing, even as a boy, that there were everyday miracles all around me.
We caught it
when a kitten chased around the room and missed his baptism
and were witness to it
when wonderful Bill said, “The body of Christ.”

May God grant us hearts that will be open to these moments of grace
that in catching them they might keep us
and give us a reason to say, “I believe.”
SOLI  DEO  GLORIA