May, the Month I Mourn

Soon my body will begin to grieve. We are about to enter into the season of Grayson Owen's (a beloved family friend) birthday and soon after, his untimely death. My body always remembers this no matter how many decades pass. In many ways, Grayson's accidental death was the death of my own spiritual illusions.

Growing up in a family that flaunted rules, I took a different path - the one less traveled. I thought if you followed the rules, played it safe, loved Jesus, and returned your cart to the appropriately designated area when leaving stories, nothing too terrible would happen.

I was wrong.

After the loss of Grayson I was busy feeling helpless. Have you ever noticed how many people tell you the wrong ways to support grieving people? But NO ONE tells you how to do it "right". Of course, I'm old and now I know better: there is no right way to support people in grief. No matter what you do, it is not enough nor should it be. Because there is nothing this side of heaven that fully comforts a family and community who have lost one so dear, one so precious as a son, a friend, a beloved mischievous boy with beautiful brown eyes and gorgeous shiny hair.

But life continued. My kids still required food on the table. So off to Sam's Club I go. It's warm out, early July is my best guess. And it hits me as a trudge to the car with my cart full of food and several useless items that were too good a deal to pass up. Not the grief of his parents, or his brothers, or my daughter. Not the grief of his grandparents or friends. My grief.

So I unload those groceries and trinkets into the back of my mini-van, a vehicle that was accustomed to toting this young man to and fro on adventures with the surviving musketeers, and I DO NOT RETURN THE DAMN CART. I just leave it sitting in the middle of the parking lot.

Because I learned my lesson. Parents can do the best they can and still lose their kids. People can be and do good and none of it is protection from pain.

It is a great con, an attractive one, but a con nonetheless to teach people that if we are very, very good God will protect us from suffering. The worst rebuke Jesus ever offers is when the disciple Peter dares to object to the predicted suffering and death of Christ. Preach him crucified.

We have an opportunity, this Easter season, if we sit with the crucifixion long enough, to realize that what scares us the most is not cured by magical thinking. But if we let it, the resurrection can bring us hope. Not a hokey hope, not wishful thinking, something different.

What do you fear so much that you are willing to buy snake oil to cure it?

Preach Him Crucified

"Do I not conquer my enemy," said Abraham Lincoln, "By making him my friend?"

This said by the guy who was gunned down in Ford's Theatre in Washington D.C. on April 14th, 1865.

As I so often say, this is a terrible sales pitch for following Jesus but Lincoln's words are imitations of Christ's teachings. Paul reiterates this in Romans 12 - be devoted, honor one another, be joyful, patient and faithful. Be hospitable, rejoice and mourn as appropriate, hang out with the rabble, do right and do not repay evil with evil, live at peace and do not seek revenge.

Preach him crucified.

Because these instructions (and more) continually remind us that we are losers in life if we define winning as getting our way or expecting to be treated well by others or demanding that Jesus prosper us just because we love him. No, that's not the Jesus way. We are to feed our enemy and give him water if he is thirsty. Overcome evil with good.

Sometimes this means rumbling a bit. Sometimes it will require loving others by telling the truth even when we know it will stir up feelings that, shall we say, are less than pleasant? But this is what love is. It is imitating Christ. It is loving when our feelings do not justify it. Sometimes love is tender, sometimes it is....firm.

Once when I was a kid I got glass in my foot while swimming at a public pool. I was at my grandmother's house visiting and I knew that if anyone was going to help me remove the glass - it was not going to be her. So I went next door and my beloved friends' mother, Dot, removed the glass without flinching. She was a sturdy woman that way. In that moment, I needed someone who could do hard things, which included pulling a shard of glass out of a frightened child's foot. It was as loving as serving me a double scoop of homemade ice cream - which my grandmother did later that evening.

Easter is a lot about resurrection but it is also about crucifixion. Preach him crucified.

Day 3: Sitting Vigil...

The seventh, and final antiphon for this season:

O Immanuel, You are our King and judge, the One whom the peoples await, and their Saviour.

O come and save us, Lord, our God.

O come, O come, Immanuel, and ransom captive Israel that mourns

in lonely exile here until the Son of God appear:

Rejoice! Rejoice! IImmanuel shall come to thee, O Israel.

What are you waiting for this day before Christmas Eve? Are our longings in alignment with our values? Do our values reflect the faith that we profess? I use “our” and “we” with intention, because my decisions impact you. And your decisions impact me. We are in this together. We are made of clay, bound to make mistakes. Making mistakes is normal. Failing to wrestle with ourselves, acknowledge our limitations, is a pathway to captivity.

Maybe there are some things about ourselves that need mourning. Ok, we can wait quietly and patiently for those who mourn to mourn. We can sit vigil. But we must hold onto hope, sometimes carrying theirs and ours. Or, maybe someone is carrying our hope. God continues to provide ways for the banished to re-enter the circle of life. Let us make it easy for each of us to do so.