We're in a series at church right now called "Facebook! Healthy Spritual Living". The focus this week is "Inviting Unusual Friends". We are focusing on welcoming loss and grief into your life. In trying to think about how to lead the congregation Sunday morning (leading worship), I've been thinking about loss and grief in my own life. Most of the time, I think of grief and loss as strangers to me. I have not experienced great tradgedy in my life other than the loss of grandparents and one or two dear friends. While I grieved the loss of these dear ones, most of these losses were also occasions to celebrate lives that had been lived for Christ and to rejoice that they are now worshipping their Savior face to face!
As I have thought about the topic more this week, I have come to realize that I am more familiar with grief and loss than I have thought. While physical tragedy has not visited my life often, I have felt the blow of many "little deaths" in my life. I'm referring to losses that take a toll on your soul even when you don't realize it - the loss of moving away from the family you love, realizing the career path I chose wasn't what I wanted to do with my life, the death of a dream, the loss of family time that comes in ministry (usually I give it up willingly - not always - Hey, I'm not perfect!), and many others. Sometimes loss comes like a storm in the night. While we might have some indication that it's coming, we are surprised when we wake to find tree branches down and chairs blown over, but we are grateful the house is still standing. Loss can be like that. It leaves us a little shaken, but we're still standing firm. And then there are those times when loss is more like a flood. It totally blind sides us. We are not prepared for it, and it leaves us feeling like we're about to go under.
This past two years, I have experienced quite a few little deaths - the loss of friendships, the loss of respect for those who say they walk with Christ but do not reflect His character in the tough moments, the loss of beautiful family moments that can never be recaptured, and the list goes on. Unfortunately, many of them came into my life like a flood and what was left in the aftermath was not pretty. God knows all the moments my heart grieved. He knows the effect those losses have had in my life and in my family's life. Some I weathered better than others, and some I may never get over. While I did not choose these pains and I did not welcome them at the time, these losses turned out to be, as the series title suggests, unusual friends. "How's that?" you ask. In the moments of loss and grief, I turned to the One who knows me like no other. I sought Him, and I got to know Him better because no one else could understand the depth of grief I felt. And after all, isn't knowing Him and then conforming to His heart what it's all about.
In times of loss, people do one of two things: they grope around in the dark and choose to stay there or they turn to the Light (the truth of God's Word). I have a dear friend (Tim) who used to say (probably still does), "Trust Him in the dark; obey Him in the light." It's the trusting that is key. Do we believe He is who He says He is? Do we believe He will do what He says He will do? If the answer is yes, then we are compelled to obey Him, to go to His word and seek out the answers for the pain and the grief and the hurt. I believe as we obey Him in the light (in the knowledge of His Word), that is when we find it easier to let go and that is when He is most glorified in our suffering.
When things are hard, some people journal. It helps them process the pain. Here are some of the things I have tried to do during the "groping in the dark' these past two years that helped me process and turn to the Light of His Word and be obedient.
- Keeping a record of God's goodness - I started trying to write every day about the goodness of God in my life. It's amazing how He reveals His goodness to You when You look to Him! Sometimes it's hard to see the goodness when you are focused on yourself and your pain. So I stopped being so self-involved.
- Mystery Box - Sitting on top of my piano is a box, a special box. I call it a mystery box. (My brother gave me the idea.) In it are little reminders of things in my life that I don't understand. While I was groping for answers one day, I pulled it out. I read a letter from a mentor's dad telling me she had passed away. I read a Christmas letter from a friend describing the struggle her family was experiencing related to her husband's cancer. I saw the picture of the house in Virgin Gorda we gave up when our son broke his leg. I saw the picture of Jae-Jae our cat who died after one year (my son put that one in). And there are other reminders. Going through this box helped. It reminded me that there are just some things we are not meant to know right now. It also reminded me that I survived each one of those moments of pain and it gave me hope that I would be ok - again! And the best part, some of the things I read in the box that were once mysteries, I now see God's purposes in them. We won't always be able to see things clearly in this life, but sometimes, He shows us where He was in a particular storm and how He used it for our good and His glory. We will continue to use our mystery box to remind us and teach our children that God comes near to the brokenhearted and He always hears us when we call on Him. Somehow, the opening the box and physically putting something in that we can't make sense of is like declaring, "I don't understand this but I'm trusting it into Your hands." You should try it!
- Interceeding - My mom's father died tragically when she was 13. I remember her saying that she knew there was no one who could possibly understand how she felt and she had no one to talk to, but she knew she could always talk to Jesus. She knew He understood loss. This was a 13-year-old! My mom is a wise woman who loved Jesus then and loves Him even more today. I have never forgotten that. In ministry, sometimes there is no one you can speak to about certain matters. It stinks, but it's just the truth. Oh sure, you can talk to your spouse obviously, but sometimes he's in a worse place than you are. I remember several times over these last years waking in the night to see my husband kneeling at the couch. I knew he was confused, heartbroken, and unsure what to do. On those nights, I just crawled back in my bed and began talking to Jesus for him. I knew Jesus understood his pain, and it was all I could do for him at the time. I interceeded. And I know there were nights when I was "sleeping" and I'd feel his hand on my shoulder and realize that he was praying for me. He interceeded for me. And I remember nights when the reality that "hurt people hurt people" hit really hard and we suffered from their hurting. We'd lie in our bed and ask God to be real for these people as well. Sometimes, we didn't want to, but we did it anyway. We interceeded for them. It's hard to harbor resentment when you are asking God to show them favor. (again - focusing on others instead of self - I see a theme here)
I certainly am not implying I always grieve the proper way. I mean, hey, I get angry. I rehearse things I would say to people if given the opportunity or if I was braver. (Don't you! And I always think of the perfect thing to say - in my head.) I yell at God sometimes, too. I take things out on my family when I'm hurt. I shut down when the pain is too real and just push people away. I am aware that I do these things. I know they are not how God wants me to respond. And I am ashamed at the ugliness of my sin. This is not the person I want to be. This is the person who stays in the dark, living out of her own strength. Eventually, when my strength is gone, I come running to Him who is all powerful. In Him is where I find the strength to be someone different. Someone who doesn't stay in the dark. That's not where I want to live. It's ugly in the dark.
Ok, so I've learned alot about Him these last few years. Here are some of the truths He taught me in the letting go:
- He is in control (Psalm 29:10) The LORD sits enthroned over the flood; the LORD is enthroned as King forever. He's even in charge of the flood. There is never a moment when things are beyond His control.
- He sees (EL-Roi: The God who sees) I don't have to wonder if He sees my pain or if He sees injustice. He sees it all.
- He defends me (Jehovah-Nissi: The Lord is my banner) God defends His people. He lifts them up in the battle. I don't have to get defensive. It's hard not to want to prove ourselves. But we don't have to give in to that urge.
- He is with me (Jehovah-Shammah: The Lord Is there) I am never alone. Even when I can't talk to anyone or I've shut everyone out, He's there.
- An open hand helps the heart heal faster. If I live with tight fists, clinging to everything and everyone I love, then I have no hand to grasp His hand when He wants to extend comfort, or healing, or some new measure of goodness. In the letting go, there is hope and newness.
So back to Sunday. How shall I lead? What can I do to enlarge our picture of who God is? How will I help us have a moment where our realities come face to face with the Divine? These are the struggles I face as a leader. This Sunday, I will definitely lead from a place in my heart no one usually sees. The place that knows from experience that He is sufficient - for everything I need. And from that place, I hope they will see His sufficiency for them!
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