Promises Kept
By Sharon R. Terry
Sharon Terry is an elder, youth director, and lay pastor serving the Presbytery of Sheppards and Lapsley and Edgewood Presbyterian Church. She writes and lives in Birmingham, AL with her husband Jeff and children Rebecca, Jessica, Robert, and Joshua.

The best advice I have ever received as a parent came from an older relative: “Always do what you say you’re going to do. If you promise ice cream after supper, you’d better have a scoop waiting as soon as the last green bean disappears. If you say you’ll throw the kids off the roof if they don’t quit fussing, you’d better start climbing.” As a new mother, I quickly learned first hand the importance of careful wording and consistent follow through. I’ve let a two-year-old wear a Little Mermaid costume to pre-school and played with a five-year-old at the park in the rain, all because, “You promised Mommy!” I’ve taken a twelve-year-old’s bedroom door off the hinges and loved a couple of teenagers despite bared midriffs and missed curfews, because I promised those things too.

Yet it is hard to know how to keep promises these days, not just because it is often an inconvenient or downright painful thing to do, but also because we have so few examples of promises kept. About half of the marriages in our country end in divorce, and almost all of the campaign promises end in deceit. Star athletes promise us super bodies and stellar performances, only to admit to steroid use. High profile preachers promise us family values and Christian morals, only to be caught in adultery or worse. Even the promise of a natural order of things appears disrupted by tsunamis and earthquakes, hurricanes and floods. Some days it seems that even the most basic promises lay shattered at our feet, blown to smithereens by selfishness, ambition, greed, or chaos.

As the youth director at my church, I recently helped our young people lead a worship service for our annual Youth Sunday. After weeks of work, the morning of the service turned into an exhibition of Murphy’s Law on steroids. First the sound system wouldn’t work, then one of the young people revealed that she would like to give a personal testimony about ghosts in the church – not the Holy Ghost, but the Casper kind. Meanwhile my own diva daughter was refusing to perform her liturgical dance because it wasn’t up to her prima ballerina standards, and two folks showed up with a double donut order, distributing 96 Krispy Kremes to 20 already hyped teens. Just ten minutes before the prelude, someone discovered that we had no bread for communion. After dispatching a parent on a bread run, I gathered the shrieking youth from the balcony, sanctuary, playground, and every other corner of the church. We held hands, took a deep breath, and prayed for the Holy Spirit to work through us in the coming hour.

Five minutes before the service, I resigned myself that chaos had won the day, and consoled myself with the hope that the congregation would love our young people anyway. And then a strange and unexpected thing happened. The personal testimonies were intelligent and moving, my daughter’s dance was flawless and beautiful, the skits were funny and profound, and communion was a true celebration - complete with bread. We are normally a very liturgical congregation, and we ordinarily like things the Presbyterian way – decently and in order. Our pastor affectionately calls us “God’s frozen people.” And yet on Youth Sunday our church family clapped, cried, and laughed aloud. We raised our hands and danced in the aisles. The Holy Spirit blew through that place like a rainstorm in the desert . And it was proof positive of a promise kept: “For where two or three are gathered in my name, I am there among them.” (Matthew 18:20)

God’s promises to us flow from scripture like honey from the rock. “I have loved you with an everlasting love; therefore I have continued my faithfulness to you.” (Jeremiah 31:3) “And remember, I am with you always, to the end of the age.” (Matthew 28:20) They are promises of abiding presence, and they are promises kept. The coming advent season is one of expectant waiting for the fulfillment of the greatest promise of all – God with us in the form of Christ Jesus.

Yet just weeks before advent, the world looks like an exhibition of Murphy’s Law on steroids and it seems that chaos has won the day. I read the headlines each day and pray for earthquake victims in Asia, and hurricane refugees in America, stunned once again by the scope of suffering. I look around my home and community and wonder how the divine can be born here, in the midst of human promises abandoned as easily as yesterday’s fast food wrappers. But still I pray that the Holy Spirit will work in this world in the coming weeks, and that Jesus will indeed be reborn in countless hearts. I remember that God is like a father who abandons all dignity to run and welcome the prodigal child home, arms flung wide with welcome and heart overflowing joy. God is like a mother who forsakes all else to nurture the nursing child, arms circled protectively with love, and being overflowing with sustenance. And above all else, God is the divine parent- a holy, perfect, living example of promises kept.

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