A Psalm for My 34th Year

In seminary, one of my professors shared that he read the numbered psalm for his year (Psalm 30 his 30th year). I don't do this daily as part of my devotions, but certainly on my birthday. This morning, on my 34th birthday, I reread Psalm 33 and reflected on its message to me for the year that has passed, and then read Psalm 34, which surely has words of hope for the year ahead.

Psalm 34 (NRSV)

1 I will bless the Lord at all times;
    his praise shall continually be in my mouth.
2 My soul makes its boast in the Lord;
    let the humble hear and be glad.
3 O magnify the Lord with me,
    and let us exalt his name together.
4 I sought the Lord, and he answered me,
    and delivered me from all my fears.
5 Look to him, and be radiant;
    so your[a] faces shall never be ashamed.
6 This poor soul cried, and was heard by the Lord,
    and was saved from every trouble.
7 The angel of the Lord encamps
    around those who fear him, and delivers them.
8 O taste and see that the Lord is good;
    happy are those who take refuge in him.
9 O fear the Lord, you his holy ones,
    for those who fear him have no want.
10 The young lions suffer want and hunger,
    but those who seek the Lord lack no good thing.
11 Come, O children, listen to me;
    I will teach you the fear of the Lord.
12 Which of you desires life,
    and covets many days to enjoy good?
13 Keep your tongue from evil,
    and your lips from speaking deceit.
14 Depart from evil, and do good;
    seek peace, and pursue it.
15 The eyes of the Lord are on the righteous,
    and his ears are open to their cry.
16 The face of the Lord is against evildoers,
    to cut off the remembrance of them from the earth.
17 When the righteous cry for help, the Lord hears,
    and rescues them from all their troubles.
18 The Lord is near to the brokenhearted,
    and saves the crushed in spirit.
19 Many are the afflictions of the righteous,
    but the Lord rescues them from them all.
20 He keeps all their bones;
    not one of them will be broken.
21 Evil brings death to the wicked,
    and those who hate the righteous will be condemned.
22 The Lord redeems the life of his servants;
    none of those who take refuge in him will be condemned.

Rev. Daniel Brooks Andrews

One of the things that was always the most important to Dan was that people be real, be authentic. To not be or pretend they’re someone they’re not. I have really struggled to attempt to capture Dan’s life in even a small way for you today. The truth is, our authentic selves are fully of complexities which even we do not at times fully see. I am confident I cannot fully capture our shared experiences of Dan—the blessing he was to us all—and I am even more sure I cannot capture in these few words the child of God that Dan was.

Foremost in Dan’s understanding of himself, though, I think was that he was a child of God. His journey through his teen and adult years led him through many experiences and along many paths. But his journey was one of becoming and living into who he truly was: a beloved child of God. I believe he was powerfully aware of this even as he struggled to figure out how to fully live into this throughout his life.

Daniel Brooks Andrews was born in Siler City, NC on January 16, 1983. The second child and first son of Rev. Richard Andrews and his wife Patricia (Brooks) Andrews, Daniel came into the world to my vocal encouragement, as legend has it I cheered him along with cries of “Hurry up, baby, hurry up!”

Dan grew up learning to love toy trains, the outdoors and being a brother, son and friend.

Dan was a great brother. While he once threw a fire truck at my head (I think he was three), he also once had to be held back (a year or so later) from beating up the doctor who was removing a splinter from my foot and—Dan was convinced—hurting his big sister. He also had the magic touch when Liz was a baby—he could often be found sucking his thumb, rubbing her hand, putting Liz to sleep on car rides. Dan loved family—whether it was hanging out with his sisters and brothers, spending time with his parents, or enjoying his large extended family. Dan was always about relationships.

As PKs, Dan, Liz, Jordan and I were always close as we moved from place to place. We always had built-in friends. And we were a travelling Sunday School.

Dan was active on neighborhood and school baseball and lacrosse teams, and also enjoyed club team sports in college and seminary.

Dan treasured his friends from school—from Marie Farring Elementary, FSK Middle, Poly, Frostburg and Drew. Dan always seemed to make friends easily wherever he went. Good friends. Friends to get in trouble with. Friends to work through life with. Friends to support him, and friends for him to support. I want you to know that he loved you all. Through the highs and the lows, your friendship to him were some the great treasures of his life.

Dan had many adventures. From experiencing city life in Baltimore to hopping trains in Western Maryland, Dan loved experiencing new things—especially doing so with good friends and family. Dan was part of various cultural movements and his physical appearance evolved other time as well. Most recently you knew Dan with gauges in his ears, but in high school he had green hair and eyebrow rings—that is, of course, until it came time for senior portraits. Our parents generally let Dan be Dan, but for senior photos, Mom laid before him a clear choice: either the green hair or eyebrow rings had to go. You can see Dan’s senior portrait—buzz cut and eyebrow rings and all, in the photo display in the Parish hall.

Dan loved Baltimore, and he was an aficionado of Baltimore culture. Though, perhaps not always its most skilled representative. Once as a teenager, when our cousins Jym and Tim were visiting us while we lived in south Baltimore, the three guys went down to go crabbing off of one of the local bridges. Hours later, the conquering heroes returned home with an impressive haul of crabs. They were so proud of their catch. Later the truth was revealed—they had bought most of the crabs off a much more experienced crabber.

Later Dan would say that his teenager and early college years were also years he ran from a call to ministry. I remember when Dan got connected with a men’s Bible Study at Frostburg and started to come back to the faith. Though our family had prayed he would, it perhaps shocked us more than anyone. Dan considered whether he would get baptized as an adult—you see he and I were baptized on the same day at Chevy Chase UMC. In true Wesleyan fashion, Dan decided on his own he would not. His baptism had stuck. God had never left him.

The year after Dan graduated from college and before he began at Drew Theological School, he lived with me in my parsonage and served as my assistant pastor on my first two point charge. It was an interesting year, and after seven years of not living together (as we both were off at college), we got to know each other again well and wrestle with the joy and challenges of being siblings. The four of us—we always tried to stick together. Through moves, challenges and pain in our family and our father struggles with his own mental illness, and growing up—our relationships were always evolving but always very important to us.

Dan found great connection with the prodigal son in Jesus’ parable. In many ways it defined his understanding of his call and ministry. Dan had felt far off, away from Church, from the community of disciples, but it was from this experience that he had a deep passion for reaching out to others who also felt far off from God—whether by circumstances or their own decisions or both. Dan had little patience for people who put policies or traditions above God’s love for all people. This was one of the ways God’s image was powerfully imprinted on Dan.

Dan served several churches during his ministry: Doubs/Epworth UMC, Catoctin UMC, Cowenton UMC and Chesaco UMC. What he loved most about being a pastor was getting to know people. Being present with them, and learning their stories. And helping them discover God’s deep and abiding love for then, no matter what—a love which was always so important to Dan. And which still is.

Once (and I suspect things like this happened more than once), Dan came across a group of young adults outside a store who were hitchhiking across the country together. He greeted them, talked to them, and bought them a meal. And then they went on their way.

Most recently, Dan also enjoyed checking out Ironbirds baseball games, helping the ladies at Cowenton make their famous apple dumplings, and taking part in many church breakfasts and meals.

Dan also loved being an uncle to my and Chris’ daughter Anna and Mary. He loved making them laugh, smile and dance. He doted on them and they returned his love with adoration. Even with the girls, Dan wanted them to know God’s love. Dan bought Anna her first pink Bible—a Bible whose stories he began to help her memorize.

Through all of this, Dan was a fighter. You see, for all his joy and smiles—and these were him, they were authentic—things were often harder for Dan. Pains seemed to strike him deeper and losses weighed heavy. Dan fought though. He fought to hold onto his identity as a child of God and to live out the love and grace he had received. Because Dan experienced this fight, I think it made him incredibly compassionate to those who also struggled—and he was always looking for people that others looked past, or people who thought the Church, or even God, had given up on.

My mother and the rest of our family have received such wonderful remembrances of Dan already from many of you and others who aren’t able to be with us here today. Many also struggle to reconcile Dan’s final moments with the Dan they knew the rest of the time. I believe if Dan were here, he would tell us that his final choice was his most tragic one. For all that was weighing on him, it is difficult for us to not let Dan’s final moments to be his defining moments for us.

But Dan’s life was never and will never be defined by his deepest pains or sorest losses. He was first and foremost a child of God. He was also a son, a brother, a grandson, nephew, cousin, pastor, friend, camp counselor, colleague, and so much more. Dan’s life was about creating deep and lasting relationships, encouraging people to be the people God created them to be, and helping others receive and celebrate the love of God and blessings of life. His legacy lives on in the lives of each person he touched, and we hope, in work ahead for our family and perhaps for you as we try to help others who similarly struggle. We are none of us alone today, or indeed any day. Just as I am sure Dan is not alone either.

The best of all is God is with us.

Week 2

Week 2.

In anticipation of Week 1, Day 1, Sunday 1, this is when the reality of a new appointment really begins to settle in. Not just a guest preacher, the new pastor now has to figure out her or his place. Whatever bumps (or collisions) the first week and first Sunday brought, now it when the new pastor begins to settle in for the long haul. The new pastor finally has a history (albeit woefully short) with their new congregation. Now there’s a “last Sunday” and a “last week” to reference.

I am by nature a planner. I am absolutely convinced the world works better when someone (and yes, I’m willing to be that person) has a plan. The thing with plans, of course is they change. Sometimes in small ways. Sometimes in ways so radical it becomes questionable whether the “plan” ever really existed to begin with.

My last Sunday at Calvary UMC was June 8. I had three weeks between then and starting at Arden UMC. As mostly planned, I spent that first week caring for family and personal details—at least some of them. The following two weeks were to be occupied with coming up with a plan for my new appointment. Creating to do lists. Coming up with a plan.

But that never happened. Sunday, June 15 – Fathers Day—we received the unthinkable news that my brother Dan had committed suicide. Dan was also to have been beginning a new appointment this summer. I had anticipated touching base with each other on our first Sunday and comparing notes. I didn’t get to do that yesterday, though.

Someday, and I suspect not too far from now, I will have words to speak more about this loss for me and our family. Right now those words are hard coming. I had decided I would offer the witness (some call it a eulogy) at Dan’s funeral on the Sunday before I started my new appointment. But I had no words. I couldn’t write anything till the morning of the service. And once written, those words were all I had. Perhaps I’ll at least post that here soon.

All that to say, here I am at week 2 still living into things, and yes, even flying by the seat of my pants a bit. As Bill O’Reilly was teased when taped during a difficult rehearsal, “We’ll do it live!”

Week 2. Doing it live. There will be a plan soon enough. And as soon as there is one, it will change. But I give thanks that our God is a God of plans. Of scripts. And of going off-script. And yes, even of chaos.

And so it is…

Week 2.