It’s what we do when we get together at church-in Sunday School or Wednesday night Prayer Meeting-we take prayer requests.
It’s what we should do.
We are commanded to pray for one another.
I listen attentively, take notes, try to get the names spelled correctly-I’m the one who types the list for the weekly bulletin so I want to get it right.
Until...someone shares a request that sends my mind down a winding path of memory. My heart begins to beat the rapid tap-tap-tap warning of mounting anxiety. Death has come to another family’s door or is stalking them around the corner.
Some parent will stand by the casket of the child they bore and wonder how in the world they outlived their offspring.
And while I try to pray faithfully for all the requests shared, this one lodges in my throat and will not be ignored.
My heart is broken as theirs breaks. I know only God can hold it together.
I breathe a prayer in:“God grant them strength, grant them mercy, grant them grace.”
I breathe a prayer out:“Jesus, Shepherd, carry them in Your arms. Don’t let their faith fail.”
I could list a dozen reasons but here I will simply list one: It is impossible to constrain good theology to the few words that will fit on most church signs.
The temptation to be funny, cute or trite generally overcomes any desire to be biblically accurate.
Case in point-just down the road from me is this sign:
THERE ARE NO PROBLEMS, ONLY OPPORTUNITIES FOR GOD TO WORK.
I could write for days on why I hate (yes, HATE!) this sign. But I’ll restrain myself.
Here are the top three reasons I want to close my eyes when I pass it:
It’s simply does not line up with Scripture. Paul gives a list of “problems” in 2 Corinthians 11:25-27. Did God help him? Yes! But was Paul discouraged? Yes! He turned to God but was also thankful for the practical help of those who cared about him and gave him aid.
People who are struggling are not encouraged by platitudes. Platitudes close the door to further discussion. They are a giant “period” in a conversation. If the purpose of your sign is to invite others in, this one will do just the opposite.
Preaching this foolishness (in person or by sign) lets congregants off the hook. If there are no problems then there is no reason to extend a helping hand. If God will handle it-why should I get my hands dirty or waste my time?
This week alone I have dealt with at least ten “problems” that required practical solutions in addition to prayers that God would help work them out.
Did He make some things fall in place that otherwise might not? Probably. And for that I am very thankful.
But did He shower solutions from the sky like raindrops?No. I had to face the problems, look for solutions and ask for help from others.
When Christ instituted the church it was not for us to sit inside four walls and dole out pithy platitudes to passersby. It was for us to be His hands and feet in the world.
Truth is that God DOES work. But most often He works through US.
All around us are people hungry for the Good News of Jesus Christ.
If we are going to put out a sign, could it just say, “We welcome the broken, the wounded, the hurting, the ones with no hope”?
Twenty-four hours separate one of the most outlandish global parties and one of the most somber religious observances on the Christian calendar.
Many of the same folks show up for both.
Mardi Gras, “Fat Tuesday”, is the last hurrah for those who observe Lent-a time of reflection, self-denial and preparation before Resurrection Sunday.
It’s a giant party-food, fellowship and fun-a wonderful way to celebrate the blessings of this life.
Ash Wednesday, by contrast, is an invitation to remember that“from dust you came and to dust you will return”.
None of us get out of here alive.
Even where the Gospel is preached every Sunday there are those who forget this life is hard and often full of pain and suffering.
If your experience so far has looked more like Mardi Gras and less like ashes, well, then-be thankful.
But don’t be deceived.
“From dust you came and to dust you will return.”
For some of us it was a similar twenty-four hour turnaround that upset our world, tossed us headfirst into the waves of sorrow and burned that truth into our hearts, not just dabbed it on our foreheads.
Sometimes I feel excluded from fellowship with the saints because I can’t join in the celebratory spirit of a worship service.
When the hymns only focus on our “victory in Jesus” my heart cries, “Yes-but perhaps I won’t see the victory this side of heaven.”
When the congregation claps and dances to feel-good songs that celebrate the sunshine but ignore the rain, my eyes swim with tears because I know the reality of a downpour of sorrow.
Because sometimes praise is a sacrifice.
Church needs to be a place where we can share the pain as well as the promise that Christ will redeem it.
Jesus Himself said, “in this world you will have trouble”.
So I can’t claim allegiance to the Church of the Perpetually Cheerful.
I want to create space for the hurting and broken and limping and scared.
How about a new denomination that acknowledges the truth that life is hard.
Instead of the “Overcoming Apostolic Praise-filled Ministers of Eternal Optimism” I would name it the “Trudging But Not Fainting Faithful.“
Reading through the Sermon on the Mount, it’s easy to feel defeated.
Jesus ripped off the Pharisees’ masks. He gave people a peek behind the curtain-unveiling the sin that hid beneath a facade of outward obedience and seeming righteousness.
Jesus also strips away any pretense that I can follow the “rules”.
Sure I may not murder anyone, but hate and malice-how am I supposed to get through this life without calling someone “fool”?
Line after line of impossible standards-righteousness that goes way beyond the Ten Commandments!
I am hopeless and helpless.
Jesus makes just that point-on my own, in my own strength, dependent on my own efforts, I’m lost.
That’s what makes the Gospel the Good News!
God in His mercy and grace has offered the only true hope–the righteousness of Christ, the Perfect Sacrifice and atonement for sin.
When I walk into church and pretend I “have it altogether”, when I refuse to display my brokenness and my need for forgiveness, I obscure the beauty, value and truth of the Gospel.
I raise a barrier between those who need rescue and the very means by which they may be saved.
I don’t think clever arguments are the best way to effect change and I’m unconvinced that gathering the right group of people can guarantee an outcome.
But I know that God’s people, repentant and responsive to His will can do battle in the heavenlies.
I am writing this BEFORE tonight’s scheduled presidential debate-I won’t be watching it–nothing the candidates have to say and no media spin can undo the knot in my stomach.
I am not surprised to find us here. But I am surprised that so many of my fellow believers are surprised.
Like captive Israel, we seem astonished that God does exactly what He says He will do.
Daniel understood his times. Daniel knew that the blame lay not on those “out there” but on us “in here”.
Pagans will be pagans.
They have no reason nor the power to act in accordance with biblical teaching.
But those of us called by grace and covered by Jesus’ blood-that’s an entirely different story.
So instead of lobbing political arguments across the aisle or pounding one another with snarky social media posts, I think we should follow Daniel’s example and storm the gates of heaven.
An appropriate response to our current political predicament starts with prayer.
And that prayer starts with repentance.
Not a general, “We’ve been so bad, God. Sorry.”
But genuine, gut-wrenching, heart breaking acknowledgement of the degree to which the people of God-me, you, us–have turned from truth and pursued our own pleasure.
For generations, we have put our faith in a political party instead of a Holy God. We have been happy to accept leaders of questionable integrity as long as our pocketbooks didn’t suffer.
We have sinned. And we are reaping the fruit of the seed we sowed.
Our only hope is the mercy of God.
I am going to be fasting and praying and begging for that mercy, like Daniel.
So I turned to the Lord God and pleaded with him in prayer and petition, in fasting, and in sackcloth and ashes.
I prayed to the Lord my God and confessed:
“Lord, the great and awesome God, who keeps his covenant of love with those who love him and keep his commandments,we have sinned and done wrong. We have been wicked and have rebelled; we have turned away from your commands and laws.We have not listened to your servants the prophets, who spoke in your name to our kings, our princes and our ancestors, and to all the people of the land.
“Lord, you are righteous, but this day we are covered with shame…The Lord our God is merciful and forgiving, even though we have rebelled against him;…The Lord did not hesitate to bring the disaster on us, for the Lord our God is righteous in everything he does; yet we have not obeyed him.
“Now, Lord our God, who brought your people out of Egypt with a mighty hand and who made for yourself a name that endures to this day, we have sinned, we have done wrong.Lord, in keeping with all your righteous acts, turn away your anger and your wrath…We do not make requests of you because we are righteous, but because of your great mercy.Lord, listen! Lord, forgive! Lord, hear and act! For your sake, my God, do not delay, because your city and your people bear your Name.
I used to position myself at the end of the pew, just in case someone I’m not too comfortable with might come along and try to sit down.
It saved us both that awkward conversation where they ask if they can join me and I say “yes” with my mouth but “no” with my body language.
Frankly, I was at church to be lifted up so I could face the coming week with power and strength. I didn’t want to be dragged down by their reality of brokenness and sometimes bitter tears.
I don’t do that anymore.
I realize that most of what made me uncomfortable was other people’s pain.
Now I’m the one who’s broken. I’m the one who can’t get through “Amazing Grace” without blubbering.
And I’m the one that others hope won’t ask to join THEM.
But here’s the deal:God loves the broken.Christ came for the broken.It’s the broken and breathless who long for the Spirit to blow life across their wounded hearts.
It’s the hopeless and fearfulthat run faster to the safety of their Shepherd.
It’s the worried and weary who are thankful for a Burden-bearer.
When I refuse to move over and make room for the broken, I’m barring the way for the very ones who most desperately need the blessing. When I want my worship experience to exclude those who haven’t the strength to bring their own hearts before the throne of grace, I’m being selfish.
And that is sin.
Jesus went out of His way to heal the hurting,
to bless the broken and
to speak strength to the weary.
So now I sit in the middle of the pew and leave room for whoever God brings my way.
I want to be an open door, not a gatekeeper.
“Come to me, all of you who are weary and over-burdened, and I will give you rest! Put on my yoke and learn from me. For I am gentle and humble in heart and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy and my burden is light.” ~Jesus
“Those who wait for Me with hope will not be put to shame.”
Isaiah 49:23c NLV
We love stories of overcomers. We invite testimonies that end in victory.
We applaud members of the Body who have a “before” and “after” tale of how Jesus plus willpower took them from the dust of defeat to the pinnacle of spiritual success.
But we hide the strugglers and stragglers in the back pews.
If suffering lingers long, whether or not it is in the hands of the one who suffers to do anything about it, we cringe and pull back and hope they go away.
We don’t offer them the pulpit or the Sunday School hour to speak of how Christ continues to be the hope to which they cling.
Because deep down, we think there must be something wrong with them, something wrong with their brand or quality or strength of faith.If they only got it “right”, they too, would have the victory.
We would rather shush the suffering than face the tension between God’s goodness and His sovereignty.
We shame them to silence by implying they have nothing to share until they are able to wrap their story with a perfect spiritual bow.
We add insult to injury when their need for help exceeds the allotted three weeks or six months or whatever arbitrary deadline we impose on the prayer list and our patience.
But maybe what God has for me and others who suffer long is not a victorious tag line that can be slapped on a photo or shared on social media.
Maybe it’s only in the continued press of suffering that God reveals Himself in ways the non-suffering never see.
Maybe a dash to declare victory is actually rushing past what God has for us in deep pain and ongoing struggle.
Maybe waiting in hopeful expectation for what God is doing and will do in me and through me IS the victory.
We wait for Yahweh; He is our help and shield. For our hearts rejoice in Him because we trust in His holy name. May Your faithful love rest on us, Yahweh, for we put our hope in You.
One of the reasons I write is to share my grief experience with others.
I realized when tossed into the ocean of sorrow that of all the things I had heard about or read about, surviving child loss was never mentioned.
Oh, someone might comment that so-and-so had LOST a child, but then the conversation quickly moved on to more comfortable topics.
But if we don’t talk about it, we can’t learn to live through it.
Silence doesn’t serve anyone well.
I agree with Mr. Rogers:
Anything that’s human is mentionable, and anything that is mentionable can be more manageable. When we can talk about our feelings, they become less overwhelming, less upsetting, and less scary. The people we trust with that important talk can help us know that we are not alone.”
― Fred Rogers
During the course of my lifetime I have seen many topics dragged from behind closed doors out onto the stage and under the public spotlight.
Frankly, some of them could have remained in darkness as far as I’m concerned.
But there is something still taboo in polite conversation–something hushed with awkward silence should it ever be spoken aloud in a crowded room–mention GRIEF and eyes drop to the floor or someone hastily throws an arm around you and says, “There, there–it’s going to be alright.”
I don’t blame them. Remaining in the presence of great pain is uncomfortable.
In my growing up years I don’t remember anyone speaking about death and grief for longer than the time it took to go to a funeral home visitation and stand by the grave as the casket was lowered in the ground.
What came AFTER the loss–not a word.
We need to talk about it. We need to educate ourselves about it. Because, like my EMT son says, “No one gets out of here alive.”
You WILL experience grief in your lifetime.
I pray the people you lose are full of years and ready to go–that you get to say “good-bye” and all the important things have been said and done so you aren’t left with extra emotional baggage in addition to the sorrow and missing.
But you never know. Neither you nor I are in control.
And even in the one place where it would seem most natural to talk about life and death and grief and pain–our churches–it still makes those who are not experiencing it uncomfortable.
Yes, there are grief support groups. And, yes, they are helpful in ways that only a group made up of people who understand by experience what you are going through can be.
But much of life is spent rubbing elbows with folks unlike ourselves, with parents who know the fear of losing a child but not the awful reality.
And just a little bit of openness, a little bit of education and a little bit of understanding would make such a difference.
We don’t want pity.
We aren’t looking for special accommodations that single us out and mark us as “needy”.
But we long for understanding and compassion and the opportunity to tell our stories.
thelifeididntchoose 