C. S. Lewis identified many of us as “ordinary privates in the huge army of the bereaved, slogging along and making the best of a bad job.”
Today is a struggle job for me. I went through my prayers this morning with monotone indifference. The reading of the Word was like a dried up fountain. I’m very close to tears and want very much to be left alone.
Very little is working out the way Sandy and I hoped (expected?) 333 days ago. I am slogging through sludge in heavy boots and an overfilled backpack. If I didn’t feel the need to preserve an iota of dignity I’d be tempted to throw my head back and scream. I’ll restrain myself.
When I left the house this morning I said barely ten words to Sandy, telling her, “Headed to the library. I love you.” How I longed for some quiet and introspection. I need to process; I need to think; I need to write.
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Before heading out I grabbed the recent Plough Quarterly that arrived in yesterday’s mail and have it open before me now. The theme for the issue is, “PAIN & PASSION.” What a coincidence.
One of the opening articles features a Dominican order of Sisters who offer palliative care to dying patients in NYC. Here’s what got me: the older Sisters advise the newbies that (1) their ministry is just that; it requires they first attend to their own souls in Christ before they can love and offer mercy to their patients. And, (2), never forget that all their patients are terminal; the Sisters are there to lovingly prepare them for the next world.
Those same pieces of advice will do good for me today, if I pay heed. I can’t rise above this unless I receive the love of Jesus and trust him, first and foremost; and next I must resign to the dictum, once again, that I am not made for this world.
A page over, a pastor who lost his 22-year old to an aggressive form of lymphoma cancer wrote about his desperate search for solace against the backdrop of stupefying loss:
It was a tremendous relief to realize that we [he and his wife] are not strong people; we are plain, ordinary people. And if we need to cry, then cry. If we need to grieve, then grieve. Do it hard and deeply, and then move on.
Randall Gauger, In Search of Solace
That’s good counsel. I think I’ll cry.
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I’ve spent some time this week with three people: N. T. Wright and a pair of disgruntled disciples on the road away from Jerusalem. Wright captures their mood with,
“They had been traveling up a road they thought was leading to freedom, and it turned out to be a cul-de-sac.”
N. T. Wright, The Challenge of Jesus
The thing is, the Emmaus Road disciples were having their debate in the early evening hours of Easter! They’d heard rumors about a Missing Body and certain women having visions, but instead of staying back and investigating they slogged their way home.
Jesus had already risen. The apex of redemptive history has just happened. The Blessed Hope of Mankind is alive! And they are grousing about how nothing has worked out the way it was promised.
About here is where I need to do some Soul Talk. I don’t mind that you’re here, but if you’ll excuse me: Soul, why are you downcast? Why are you in turmoil? Has Jesus not Risen?
Bring me your sorrow, and watch for the sunrise of the resurrection. Yes, truly there comes always a resurrection – a morning when hope is reborn and life finds new beginning. Wait for it as tulip bulbs anticipate the spring. The rarest blooms are enhanced by the coldness of winter…Your God is your maker. He is your defender. And He is mighty to save. Yes, He is not only mighty to save from sin, but He is mighty to save from despair, from sorrow, from disappointment, from regret, from remorse, from self-castigation, and from the hot, blinding tears of rebellion against fateful circumstances.
Francis J. Roberts, Come Away, My Beloved
These two, perhaps husband and wife (I think so), mourned the loss of hope. But, just then, a Man joined them in their walk of sorrow. Jesus was a Stranger to them but he gave both something they could carry the rest of their way home. The Resurrected One granted them their own resurrection. Did not our hearts burn within us?
I’m on the struggle bus today but I’ll be fine. My heart will live to burn again another day. Today I cry; tonight I’ll still be His. He’s resurrected my tired bones before and he’ll do it 10,000 more times before I get home. What I have is terminal; what he has is eternal.
Amen.
Oh, my dear friend. I love your transparency. I tend to put you on a pedestal but know that you also have profound suffering to deal with. Thank you for showing us your weakness as well as your strength. It gives me permission to feel weak and vulnerable at times knowing that the Lord of hosts will once again remind me who I belong to and recognize His sufficiency.
Leave it to my dear friend, Becky, to encourage my heart so! This was a particularly difficult essay to post as I’m sure you can imagine. I don’t mind “putting myself out there“ but I don’t want people to misunderstand and think I am whining or regurgitating. The theme of my life is, “Many are the afflictions of the righteous; but the Lord delivers him out of them all.“ It means everything to me that you see that, Becky. And I’m honored to walk out these things together with you.
Scott, would you and Sandy be available to come down to Venice on Saturday, May 6th? The ladies of the church would like Sandy to speak to them at their luncheon and you could speak to the men that Saturday morning.
Would love to have you both come be with us.
Brett
Calvary Bible Church, Venice, FL.
CBCVeniceave@verizon.net
Of course, Brett, and honored to do so! So grateful for the opportunity…so we’ll connect so you can let us know how to be better prepared for it, my brother. Can’t wait to see y’all again!
So I am late to read this one. It reminds me what I love about you. I think I can even put it in 3 point Baptist form that all start with the same letter! I love that you are Real… thank you for letting us see behind the facade freeing all of us to lower ours as well. I love that you Run… to the FATHER again and again and again and as the song says, “I run to the FATHER. I fall into GRACE.” And I love that you experience Resurrection… over and over again. You just keep letting the FATHER bring you back to life. It encourages me like Easter over and over again. I hate more than words when you hurt. We are praying and missing you terribly. I am eternally grateful that you show us what to do when we hurt so we don’t just sink. Much love!
I give you an A for the homiletics and an A plus plus for the delivery! Thank you for sharing the ministry of the Holy Spirit to my soul, dear friend — again and again. You are greatly loved!