Pausing from Grief

Monday morning a local radio DJ explained that he watched part of the vigil from Newtown the night before, but that he had to keep turning away from it, because it was so overwhelming.

I could understand this. My mother's unexpected, unnecessary death plunged me into a paroxysm of grief that lasted a full year, until I again reached that fateful day in February and decided to forgive the doctor and move on.

To get past grief requires walking through the river of  sorrow to the other side where healing waits, and sometimes the water swells threatening to drown you. You can back out of the river and take a break, you can hold someone's hand and brave the rapids, you can try to swim against the current, but whatever strategy you adopt, you must have the courage to cross the river to finally reach healing.

But when it's someone else's river, it's really hard to want to plunge into the raging water. And the water of this river flowing from Newtown is especially chilling, rapid and deep, as it contains the grief of so many, and so young, and so senseless.

The rest of us watching prefer to do little more than dip our toes in from time to time. Those with small children find themselves especially drawn to the river by virtue of association.

But those bereaved by this tragedy have no choice, they cannot stand on the bank and watch. They can't take a break, or turn off the TV to dismiss the pain.

The rest of us don't have to swim this river, but we can sure pray for those who do, and stand by with life preservers in case we can help in some way. 

Just this morning I read again the story of Jonah, who when the waters threatened to overcome him, found respite in a fish. I don't know what unusual means God will provide to comfort the bereaved, but I do know that God never abandons us, despite the feeling of drowning, and I pray that all those in pain turn to God for that comfort.


God can seem far away at times like these, even when we hold hard to God's hand. But indeed God is always close, even when all evidence fails to reveal God's presence, and I am praying for these families that the waters do not overwhelm them but that they feel supported, loved and cared for. Even when the dark descends:
even there your hand will guide me,
    your right hand will hold me fast.
¹¹ If I say, “Surely the darkness will hide me
    and the light become night around me,”
¹² even the darkness will not be dark to you;
    the night will shine like the day,
    for darkness is as light to you. Psalm 139

When God Weeps

While cleaning my room and contemplating today's tragic school shooting in Connecticut, I saw my copy of  When God Weeps by Joni Eareckson Tada. If God ever weeps, it would be days like today.

God has an interesting position, because in Revelation we read that God will wipe away every tear from our eyes. God lives outside of time, so in one reality, God has all those children and teachers and they are reunited with their families and all is joy and peace.

But God is still present here in our reality, and here God weeps with us. In fact as those parents grieve the loss of their children, an unimaginable loss to me, God needs no imagination, because God has suffered in that very way, the loss of a child. God knows this pain. God has walked this road.

I pray that today all those bereaved by this tragedy sense God's walking beside them. And the rest of us too, as best we know how.

Waiting

As we enter into the season of Advent, remember that Advent is about waiting.

 

We're not very good at waiting these days. We have created an instant culture, where we get fast food, or cook in microwaves, reduce our world to sound bites and video reconstructions and expect a quick pay back on our spiritual investment.

 

Jesus waited for millennia to show up on earth the first time. Now it's been a couple more thousand years waiting for Jesus to come back again. But when it finally happens, or when we leave this life for eternity, these years will be a blink of an eye, and we'll have a never ending moment to be with Jesus.

 

I almost said, "I can't wait," which is true, but a little ironic, because wait we must. And practicing waiting is good for all of us. Builds patience, and we all need that, especially this time of year.

 

So practice. When you're in that long line at the store, remember when it's finally your turn how hard it must be to be that employee helping everyone. Say something kind.

 

When you see that harried mother trying to herd children and shop, see if you can hold the door or help in some way. Or that older person struggling with packages, try to lighten their load.

 

Model waiting. Because after all, Jesus is waiting on us. Waiting on us to become the people God created us to be. And that really takes patience.

Sibling Rivalry

As parents we managed to avoid most sibling rivalry between our four offspring by raising them to root for each other, to take ownership in one another's successes so that instead of being jealous they were excited for each other. When one of them succeeds at some accomplishment, the rest feel proud.

Today Howard Snyder's daily Facebook prayer contained this line: "Fill me with your love and regard for others, and deliver me from all jealousy when others succeed or surpass me in areas where I would like to excel or be known."

My first thought was how comforting it was to know I'm not the only one who struggles this way, a form of misery loves company.

My second thought was that if I could take the same kind of ownership for others as my children  have for each other, I wouldn't feel jealous. 

Romans 12:15 says, "Rejoice with those who rejoice; mourn with those who mourn." I've often said it can be easier to mourn with people than to rejoice with them. Rejoicing requires acceptance of their victory.

If I could truly own the sibling nature of humanity, then instead of sibling rivalry, feel a sense of partnership with others, I could rejoice when others succeed, instead of wishing that were me. And when I did succeed, I've have siblings rooting for me as well.

That is the essence of Howard's prayer, asking God to fill him with such love and regard for others that jealousy has no place. 

Lord, reshape us in this form. Give us courage to allow you to do so. Show us how to truly celebrate the victories of others, trusting you to give us the victories we need when we need them. Amen.

Hymns

Worship Wars started decades ago. When contemporary choruses came out, people battled over choruses versus hymns.

We sing both at our church. And I love both.

This week I had a younger person say she liked a certain group who were updating hymns. A funny video of someone else had a hip person say he liked hymns.

So hymns are "in" again. But then this need to update them.

I too have enjoyed some of the "updates," sometimes a faster pace, a different tune that's more singable. Our church loves the added chorus of "My Chains are Gone" to Amazing Grace.

But today as I was singing Blessed Assurance, I thought, "What's wrong with the old versions?"

Many of them were once bar tunes themselves, as Charles Wesley often used popular tunes for his hymns.

It doesn't really matter if we sing them with new hip tunes, a new pace, or the same old way. Many hymns have depth missing in some choruses.

Truth is, I love them both, which is why we still sing both at our church. Come on over.

Not Yet Me

Over the last year plus I've been on a journey to better health, working to exercise, eat right, lose weight. This week when observing my physical progress the phrase came to mind, "I'm not yet the me I want to be."

Originally I had in mind my body and how I hope to improve it even more, but then I realized it also applies to my whole personhood. I believe God isn't finished with me yet, "being confident of this, that he who began a good work in you will carry it on to completion until the day of Christ Jesus." Philippians 1:6

I'm not yet the me I want to be.

I believe God has a marvelous me in mind, one totally conformed to the image of Christ. That won't be fully realized until I see Christ face to face in heaven, but I am holding on to hope that each day I get closer.

It's not that I have "backslidden" in the ways we usually think of that term, falling into some kind of sinful abyss. But I continue to struggle to be the fully selfless creation God expects of me.

I'm going to like me a lot more when I'm fully reformed. You are too. Meanwhile, I keep trying to make progress, hoping to be closer this day than last, this year than last. Thank the Lord for the patience, grace and mercy extended. God could give up on us all like he did those of Noah's generation, for every inclination of the human heart is toward evil. O to grace how great a debtor daily I'm constrained to be.

I look forward to that new me. Bring it on Lord.

Closest to God

Many gardens display this plaque, "One is closer to God in a garden, than anywhere else on earth." Certainly the peacefulness of a quiet place helps us focus on God and listen for God's voice. In that way, the saying holds true.

But biblically speaking, I'm not so sure. Creation starts in a garden, but ends in a city. Eden provided the first home for humanity, but God drove us from there in our sin, so we would not partake of the tree of life and live forever in our brokenness. When heaven is drawn for us in Revelation, we find the New Jerusalem, coming down from heaven as the Bride of Christ. A city.

People built cities to live together. Humanity is the crown of creation, as God created us in God's image, male and female. As creations in the image of God, inhabited by God's spirit, the more people around, the more we are present with God.

The noise of the city disturbs our quiet reflections, and yet God also loves the poor, so God is surely present in the squalor of urban despair.

We just need eyes to see. We easily see God in the beauty of plants and trees and flowers and swans swimming peacefully on a quiet pond. But if we really look with God's eyes, we will see God in the faces of every passerby on a city street, every child jumping rope in the alley, every elderly man sitting on a park bench, every woman dragging her children to the grocery.

We can find God anywhere we look. Try looking at your neighbors more closely.