Lenten Devotional 07: Unbearable

Tuesday, February 28, 2012

Scripture reading: Lamentations 1:1-20

Jerusalem has fallen; naked and despised she turns her face away (586 BC/BCE). The author of the book of Lamentations evokes the pain of the people of Judah. This biblical poetry captures the grief of death, unlike most things I’ve ever seen.

As I read this text, I imagined death, imprisonment, rape, desolation, humiliation, self-loathing, and the greatest of sorrow. I felt the primal urge to cry out in a mix of terror and rage. Why the intensity? I’m not a Jew, it wasn’t my holy city that was destroyed, I’ve read worse, I’ve seen worse, I’ve experienced nothing of that magnitude, and I’m (at most) two thousand five hundred ninety eight years removed from Jerusalem’s exile into Babylon. What’s the big deal?

The poetic stanzas of our pericope are as raw and gritty as the worst parts of life; indeed, the pain it expresses is at the heart of all human sorrow. I hate piety and I hate sin (in the sense that I’d rather pretend it wasn’t real) but then people die, love turns to hate, people suffer, and no one seems to care about anyone more than they care for themselves. Some people look at the world and say, “God’s not real,” and/or, “there’s no such thing as sin.” The primal emotion that I feel as I read this passage of scripture (which I admittedly don’t like feeling) is twofold.

First, if one has ever felt, like life just kicked their world out from under them, they will know what I felt reading Lamentations 1:1-20. One who’s had to experience the death of one (or many) loved ones knows what it is to lament. Nothing feels right, no words sound right, everyone looks at you differently, and your sorrow is not received well. And, if you’re like me in those seasons, you can’t bear looking at God without questions; nor, can you look at yourself because you don’t like what you see and what you feel.

Second, how, is this not a reason to lament? How is this anything but the result of brokenness? I’m not the holy saint telling sinners to get their act together; I’m the sinner telling the sinners: this is why redemption is real, this is why we need the grace of a loving God, this is why we repent, this is why we are baptized, and this is why we eat and drink at the Lord’s table. We are prisoners to the sin nature (v. 14). The emptiness, bitterness, self-loathing, and grief are incomprehensible. We are like bums, tossed a dime, left to rot; stripped of our self-importance. We are like Jerusalem, fallen into the control of Babylon; prisoners, slaves, paid laborers – the system owns us – this is the hegemony of the human will. Only the work of God can restore us from brokenness.   

Lord, God, we confess we are sinners, broken, and desolated, like the people of Judah. We rely on your promise to restore us. Forgive us, O Lord, of this brokenness we call sin, the pain we call reality, and the self-destruction we call the happenings of life – which make us cry out! Forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those who trespass against us and deliver us from evil. For you are Lord and you alone do the work of redemption. In the name of the one and only God: Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. Amen.

Rebuilding Sand: an Unorthodox Theology of Death

Death is a reminder for the living that we’re still human – built more like glass than stone – we cannot and we should not walk alone. For some of us, death is the final moment of life. For others, it is the day the Lord has called us home. For others, still, it is when the departed get the answer to that “never ending why” and the living have lost someone dear. With great sorrow, death is no stranger to the life of this author. There are two things I wonder, where does God play a role and what would we do without friends and family to support us? In the first case, my recently deceased grandmother would say “pray.” In the second, I know we all reach a point when we have to lean upon the love of others to endure.

Honestly, I don’t think faith means answers and that is not always an easy pill to swallow when facing grief and hardship. Personally, my theology on death has very little for answers. It makes the hearts and minds of the living cry the tears of the forsaken. Doubt is sure to creep in. If God is the creator of people and giver of love and grace (as myself and countless others believe) then detailed systems of repentance, decisions for Christ, or even an understanding of God are irrelevant. The Lord has called many of my loved ones home and the details of what they believed or didn’t seem pretty trivial in light of this short breath we call life. I know they are with God regardless of their theology. Death is a mystery of life and of God for the living and we will need some form of comfort.

Thus, the body of Christ is the people that stand by our side as we, the living, mourn. Community is such that we need others to cry with, laugh with, converse with, love, and share in each other’s sorrow. Our friends and family can take glass that’s crumbled to sand and turn it into something strong like stone – strong because we are not alone and because we hurt and suffer together – this is the body of Christ. In doubt, suffering, hardship, loss, and the pain of life may we recognize the need for community support; all the while, praying, even if we don’t have words to say to God. If I have ever “lived the impossible,” as I’ve said before, I have not done it alone – I could not do this alone – I need people to support me, and whether I like it or not, I need God’s hope to carry on.   

Behind the Ego

There have been seasons in my life where being alive was an accomplishment, perhaps, a miracle. There have been seasons where I did everything in my power to break through limitations and “the glass-ceiling.” There have been seasons where I did anything to shine and stand out. There have been seasons of arrogance where I wanted to be the best at whatever I did and I wanted the world to know it. And, there have been seasons where I have been humbled.

Born, three pounds, eleven ounces, two months premature, with Cerebral Palsy; I shouldn’t, for all intents and purposes, be here today. Growing up, it was enough to do things that I shouldn’t have been able to accomplish – it was the pursuit of normalcy. Rarely, did I want to be handed anything; I had something to prove and nothing was going to stand in my way. I wanted to be treated, like everyone else, and I wanted to do what was “normal.”

At some point, I abandoned the pursuit of normalcy and sought out “living the impossible.” I’ve skied down mountains without falling, I’ve hung off of mountains upside down, I’ve climbed mountains, I’ve overcome injuries that required surgery, and none of that was enough anymore – I wanted recognition – I wanted to do what other people did and I wanted to do it better than them. Regardless of the odds, I wanted live without limits, to shatter expectations, and stand atop that glass-ceiling. In some cases, I believe I accomplished that and I was satisfied.

Eventually, satisfaction wasn’t attained by defeating the odds – I had to show it off to the world around me. I used to tell stories like this to audiences of people, but I gave the credit to God. Internally, I wanted to “worship God,” but I wanted to shine in the process. I believe I authentically worshiped God and lead others in worship. Nonetheless, if I was going to do anything, I fed off of being a showman. If I was going to preach, I did it with the intent of being different than the rest, if I was going to lead worship music it was going to be different, and if I was going to be “holy” it was going to be different than everyone.

As a result, nothing was off limits in my mind – I would do anything to shine. In truth, I think it’s why my Evangelical roots quit working for me. I was too much of a control freak. The more I stood in front of a crowd preaching, the more I played music for people, and the more holiness I achieved the more it fueled my desire to stand out. One, by one, all of the things I did revealed an ego that kept growing – in many ways, my ego is a monster.

After I turned my attention to accomplishing goals in the academic arena, my ego became brash arrogance. On the inside, I knew this wasn’t how I wanted to be seen, but I felt like I was going places, and I enjoyed the ride. Once I felt comfortable in the ministry field, my non-conformist, degenerate, attitude became public knowledge. I rebelled against the world around me and it would drop me on my face. In every case, I’d get back up and rise to more rebellion.

In the midst of attitude, arrogance, “living the impossible,” shattering expectations, and standing out to the world; I have seen a lot of humility. Hindsight is twenty-twenty; today, I can see the good and the bad results of the competition I’ve carried with myself to never go unnoticed. I went from sitting at home watching Sports Entertainment (pro-wrestling), to being a theater technician, to being totally preoccupied with the ladies, to being stuck in a rut, to overcoming new obstacles, to being a rather pious young Christian, to entering college, to garnering rare attention from the ladies (a real confidence boost), to a lot of heart break, to loosing loved ones, to being extremely cynical, to believing nobody could walk a day in my shoes, to suffering through a faith collapse, to embracing a degree of atheism, to seeing faith through a different lens, to being the first in my immediate family (mom, dad, and sister) to earn a college degree, to landing my dream job, to watching it blow up in my face, to hoping to survive each passing day, and now I’m reevaluating my goals and desires.

Behind the ego, stands a man who thought he’d seen it all, who thought he could do it all, who thought he was the best, who made love his god, who felt he’d earned better recognition than was received, who broke every rule out of defiance, who paraded his intellect over others, who never really enjoyed the humility of Christ in his life, who was inspired, who wanted to inspire, who wanted to entertain, who lived without limits, and who has lived with a lot of attitude. Some people love me and some people hate me. The people that love me have kept my ego in as much check as possible – love has a way of showing us who we really are inside. The people that I hate me, I keep at bay because I fear their criticisms – anger, also, has a way of showing us who we are inside.

In reality, I still want to be admired, I still want to be loved, I still want to shine, and I still want to be the best; however, I want to do things in grace. A decade of attitude is being challenged, but this time, it’s me challenging my attitude. At this moment, simply, being alive is an accomplishment. Behind every ego, mine included, there is a human being hurting to find the best way to live their dreams – even if that dream seems simple to someone else.

For Whom the Bell Tolls: the Seasons Change

When the bell of change tolls we can ride it like a resounding gong or let it fade into indifference. The bell tolls for me. I face the next chapter of my life and I’ve chosen to face it differently. Never, did I think my dreams would change. Sadly, some dreams were not enough for me to ride the gong. A lot of self-evaluation has shown me, timing is important.

The bell tolls for me, yet again, as I face the fate of a different future. Soon, I will know whether I am up against surgery number ten or a road of physical therapy – the more things change, the more they stay the same. In this case, I will ride the resounding gong and do what must be done to return to a strong and healthy state. Having been through similar trials, I know this will take all the endurance and sacrifice I can muster – it is my priority.

Earlier today, I was reminded of prior bell toll of change. In about six weeks, it will have been three years since the passing of my mother. Remembering this event, I know that the bell tolls for us all and I am thankful for my place in life no matter how challenging it may be. God has provided, I may not have everything the way I’d like it, but life could be much worse, or the final bell could toll and it could end. The more I learn, the less I know as I walk down this road. I thank God for all that I have and for all that has come and gone.