I experienced the mercy or hesed of God in a memorable way at the age of 10, and that experience was mediated by my father. We were living in Texas at the time, and one evening I was engaged in a bit of banter with my father, and I asked: "How come we're not rich? My father replied: "We are rich," and the banter continued for a little longer, though I cannot remember its content after that brief exchange.
That night, with my father's words lodged somewhere in my mind, God came to me in the most palpable way I have ever experienced. I do not recall that I was praying or seeking God in any way. God simply came to me, and I could feel his presence as truly as I could feel the blanket on my bed. It was a presence of love, and it come to me as a sheer gift. I did not speak of it the next day, and it did not change my behavior in any observable way; I continued to live as an often ill-tempered child. But the experience stayed with me. and for all I've learned about God since then, I have never felt God's presence more distinctly than that evening.
One result of the experience is that in all the matters that challenge faith--questions concering evil, seeming exclusion, violence in the world, violence in the Bible--I could seek understanding out of a deep-rooted assurance created in me by the Holy Spirit and growing out of that experience of Presence. Thanks to my father, I could experience faith in God as something compatible with reason and open to searching. My father's kindness--not perfect but consistent--mediated trust and joy in God to me. My father embodied words about God's Servant, found in Isaiah 42 and fulfilled by Jesus. In Isaiah 42, the Lord speaks of his Servant and says,
He will not shout or cry aloud;In that gentle way, God's Servant brings justice to the nations, and I experienced that approach of God from my father. Therefore, in whatever struggles I experienced, I knew the Lord as someone kind; I knew that: "A bruised reed he will not break; a smoldering wick he will not snuff out."
Or lift his voice in the streets,
A bruised reed he will not break,
And a smoldering wick he will not snuff out.
Now, not only I but many others received a similar mediation of God from my father, and that happened because Lou Kok was a chaplain. So let me say a word about chaplains.
Often, chaplains bring the mercy of God to people outside of or alienated from the system of religion. Some words from Hosea 6:6 come to mind here--words that Jesus quoted repeatedly--where the Lord says, "I desire mercy, not sacrifice." "Sacrifice" here can stand for an entire system of religious practices, and often we can thank God for sacrifices or systems of religion. Systems are ways for people to organize, and they can do enormous good. But systems can also go wrong. People can focus on upholding systems in such a way that they can turn exclusionary and cruel. In such situations, people can feel alienated from religion, so the role of the chaplain is to come to them with the mercy of God. Lou Kok served as a chaplain for 27 years, and I recall one particular incident from that calling.
During my High School days, my father happened to mention that he was performing a wedding--a second marriage--for a woman named Olshlager. I knew the name Olshlager because I knew a fellow student of that name, whose first name was Tim. Tim was widely rejected socially at school, so, still having an ill-temper, I said something to the effect of, "Olshlager--as in Tim Olshlager?" and I made my contempt clear. My father, called to minister to a hurting family, turned to me and said firmly, "You be kind to Tim."
After that weekend, as I headed to school, I wondered how I could express kindness to someone to whom I had expressed mostly sarcasm. But it turned out that I did not need to take the initiative. Chaplain Lou Kok had made such an impression on the Olshlager family that Tim, who worked in the lunch room, had saved me a special meal. As he gave it to me, he spoke warmly of Chaplain Lou Kok; and that was simply one of countless encounters in which my father mediated the mercy of God. Lou Kok embodied the words from Hosea that Jesus fulfilled, "I desire mercy, not sacrifice."
I believe that my father, Chaplain Lou Kok, would want me to pass on that message in our gathering today. So here it is: God desires mercy, not sacrifice. And that means: God feels mercy and kindness for you.
During my High School days, my father happened to mention that he was performing a wedding--a second marriage--for a woman named Olshlager. I knew the name Olshlager because I knew a fellow student of that name, whose first name was Tim. Tim was widely rejected socially at school, so, still having an ill-temper, I said something to the effect of, "Olshlager--as in Tim Olshlager?" and I made my contempt clear. My father, called to minister to a hurting family, turned to me and said firmly, "You be kind to Tim."
After that weekend, as I headed to school, I wondered how I could express kindness to someone to whom I had expressed mostly sarcasm. But it turned out that I did not need to take the initiative. Chaplain Lou Kok had made such an impression on the Olshlager family that Tim, who worked in the lunch room, had saved me a special meal. As he gave it to me, he spoke warmly of Chaplain Lou Kok; and that was simply one of countless encounters in which my father mediated the mercy of God. Lou Kok embodied the words from Hosea that Jesus fulfilled, "I desire mercy, not sacrifice."
I believe that my father, Chaplain Lou Kok, would want me to pass on that message in our gathering today. So here it is: God desires mercy, not sacrifice. And that means: God feels mercy and kindness for you.
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| Sarah, Rachel, Joel, Tricia, Matthew |

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