Suffering and the Kingdom of God

"And so our good Lord answered 

to all the questions and doubts

that I might make

saying comfortingly:

I may make all things well,

I can make all things well,

I will make all things well,

and I shall make all things well;

and thou shall see thyself

that all manner of things shall be well."  

-- Julian of Norwich 

Before I discuss this difficult subject -- suffering and the Kingdom of God, I must admit that I have not endured much suffering.  Granted, as a pastor, I have seen great physical, mental and emotional suffering, but I have not personally experienced anything that could be considered what St. John of the cross described as a "dark night of the soul." 

Also, I want to note that I know there have been many studies done on suffering by much smarter people than myself...therapists, psychologists, theologians and ethicist undoubtedly have a more educated "take" on the subject...Instead, my goal is to provide a simple and brief pastoral interpretation. 

 I have been more and more aware of believers and preachers begging God to remove them from their current suffering (whatever that may be).  I have even witnessed believers teaching those in the midst of suffering the awful lie that their current suffering is a result of a lack of faith --  Many of our friends practicing the  "Health and Wealth" version of Christianity ascribe to that notion.

The popularity of this innocent yet incorrect teaching has prompted me to write this brief entry, if only to correct the misleading theology in my own mind. 

I do not want to bore you with theology or lecture you on the cause of suffering....so let me share my response to our "Health and Wealth" friends by describing some events that have recently occurred in my ministry. 

Like all pastors, I deal with suffering and death on a regular basis.  Recently, a wonderful member of our church was put on hospice care and given days to live.  Due to my unfortunate familiarity with the  dying, upon visiting her I knew that she had at least a week of pain and suffering before she passed.  A week ended up being 10 days.  I just officiated her funeral last Friday (9/21).

She was a wonderful woman, full of the Holy Spirit, dedicated to advancing the Kingdom of God and being the hands and feet of Christ in the world.  She dripped with kindness and love was always overflowing from the cup of her heart. 

She had been dealing with this disease on and off for thirteen years....always with an attitude of grace and joy.  Our church loved her and her husband so much.

When the disease reared its ugly head again and began to take over her body for good, the church flocked to her side and offered a steady stream of divine love. 

At one point, during one of her "bad days" I was sitting with her and her husband in the living room of their house.  They both began crying and apologizing for being a burden to the church and to me.  She said, "I want so much to get better. I have prayed so diligently for healing...Brad, why has God not answered?"  As a pastor, I know that we all have "bad days" (even when we are not sick) and each of us at some point asks that same question. 

I took her hand and responded, "I want you to know that because of your suffering and how you have so graciously handled your disease, you have brought the Kingdom of God to our church.  The Kingdom of God is characterized by love, grace, peace, kindness and power.  And, I have never seen so much love in a church....so many people praying....so many people coming together and so many people offering grace....and it is all because of you....they are coming together because of you.  I want to thank you for bringing us a piece of the Kingdom of God.  Your suffering is not in vain."

Her eyes titled up to the left in a thoughtful position...I could tell the wheels in her head were spinning...she had never thought about her suffering in that way before.  I let her think, then said a prayer and left.

In the end, I believe this wonderful woman came to understand that her suffering was inevitable ("We are all children of Job." Dr. Milton Horne), Spirit-filled, life-giving (in a wonderfully odd and divine way), and it brought the entire church closer to the glorious Kingdom of God.

I believe there is a viable Christian hermeneutic that reveals individual suffering (if received in a healthy way) as a process that produces the following results:   a greater understanding of God's presence by the individual and the community to which he/she belongs, a unique experience with God (seeing that he is always closest to those in need/want/pain), a deeper understanding of the suffering of Christ and strength for the end of the journey. 

Remember, Jesus himself was not immune to suffering...he was "pushed out into the wilderness" at the beginning of his ministry and he was encouraged by his father to drink the cup of the cross in the garden of Gethsemene.  In addition, all of the disciples experienced a great deal of painful suffering in the post-resurrection era. 

Perhaps we should attempt to alter our view of Christian suffering from something to be delivered from to something to learn and experience in and through. 

An End...Or a Beginning

"For last year's words belong to last year's language

And next year's words await another voice.

And to make an end is to make a beginning."

~T.S. Eliot

    

The above picture was take  last Friday (8/10)...it marked the official close in the Doctorate of Ministry chapter of my life.  It was a wonderful day...I celebrated my accomplishment with friends, family and my church family.  Throughout the day I moved through so many emotions:  relief, happiness, sadness, surprise that I pulled it off, thankfulness, pride, humility and love. It was a special significant day to me...a good day, most of all I could hear Frederick Buechner's  words whispering in my ear all day, " Listen to your life. See it for the fathomless mystery it is. In the boredom and pain of it, no less than in the excitement and gladness: touch, taste, smell your way to the holy and hidden heart of it, because in the last analysis all moments are key moments, and life itself is grace." 

To be honest, I have yet slow down to take time and emotionally process this "end" of the season in my life.  I don't know how I feel right now...I don't know what I am going to do with my spare time (somehow I imagine it will get taken up with many important things).  So, I don't know how I feel.

I do know how I feel about those who helped me reach my goal....

When I began by doctorate Grant was six months old (he is now five) and Lucy was not even a thought in our minds.  While many things changed in my life through the course of my degree, a few things did not -- My wife Mary never wavered in her love or support.  She knew when I needed tough love and sweet love and she offered both...like a cook ready to ladle hot soup in an expectant dinner bowl, Mary was always standing at the front of my heart with a ladle full of love.

I specifically remember one hot summer's night a few years ago when I broke down and told her that I didn't think I could finish this..."I just can't do it all" I told her.  She let me cry and sob for a moment, then she laid her hand on my shoulder, used her other hand to guide my face to where I was looking straight into her eyes, and without a bit of frustration, anger or sadness she said, "Okay, what do you need to finish?"  We talked about what it would take (which would include a lot of sacrifice on her part), and she said, "Now, lets go do it."  My wife -- the lead of love -- not just in this instance but throughout our entire marriage.  

My parent's love and encouragement never changed...Dad always prodding me to "finish" "finish" "finish" "do this" "have you thought of that"....encouraging me like a coach who tells you something you already know, but somehow when he says it, it makes you mad and you want to finish to make him proud.  I know he is proud of me (and would be) without any degree behind my name, but I hope the extra letters after my name make him proud nonetheless. He is my biggest supporter.

And my mother's sweet support never wavered.  Opposite from dad, she offered constant peace...divine tranquility.  She has done that my entire life...She is the only person I know who truly understands what the peace of God that passes all understanding feels like.

And then of course there are many others.  My professors, my brother Blake, the wonderful participants who went with me on this journey...they are so special to me...like brothers and sisters...family...in every sense of the word.

TS Elliot's line under the picture is so profound to me.  Who knows if this is the beginning of something or the end of something or both.  But what I do know is that it has been a part of my journey that has made me who I am today, and I am so very thankful. 

It is funny, typing this, Buechner's quote just keeps coming back to me over and over again.  I have learned so much over these past five years, but I think the most important lesson I have learned is to listen to my life.  I have tried to see it for the fathomless mystery it is. In the boredom and pain of it, no less than in the excitement and gladness.  I have tried to touch, taste, smell my way to the holy and hidden heart of it, because in the last analysis I have realized that all moments are key moments, and life itself is grace."   If I can keep doing that and encourage people to do that...I think I will be okay.  

Speaking of listening, there is a little girl sitting by me while I am typing, waiting patiently to play with her daddy.  She keeps repeating the phrase, "play with me?"  Is that what DMin. graduates do the day after they get their degree...who knows, but I know it is what this dad is going to do.

On Listening During Ordinary Time

 

 "This ordinary time is
     gifted in its quiet, marked passing
    Christ slips about
    calling and baptizing,
    sending and affirming,
    pouring his Spirit like water
    into broken cisterns,
    sealing cracks and filtering our senses,
    that we may savor the foolish
    simplicity of his grace."  -- Enuma Okoro

It is official (and has been since Pentecost Sunday), we are in Ordinary Time.  The liturgical season of Ordinary Time lasts for about twenty nine weeks -- from Pentecost Sunday to the First Sunday in Advent.  It is by far the longest season of the church year and there are very few "special" significant events along the way.  It lacks the yearning and holy expectation of Advent and the joy of Easter. There are no costumes, no colors, no pageants...it is simply marked by its ordinary monotony.  Day after day of...ordinary....heat (at least if you live in Texas).

I like referring to this time by its secular name "the dog days of summer."  Frankly, I loathe it.  I think it is because I am jealous.  Although it has been a very long time, these long summer days always remind me of the fun I had growing up in summers past...swimming all day, horseback riding into the late evening...riding my bike all over the neighborhood...sleeping in....those were the days.  The sun on my back and the world at my doorstep...so much to see, so much to explore.

Mary and I try to have as much fun with the kids during the summer as possible.  After work we do what we can...but we both have confessed that we seem to lack the childhood wonder...it just isn't the same. Work (no matter how much you love your job), along with the hot sun and a demanding toddler have a way of draining you.  It reminds me of the poem by Luci Shaw, "...always when I get home from work, the house is dark, the dog bored, the children screaming, the plants browning, the sink piled with dishes and the trash overflowing with garbage."

Admittedly, Mary and I have noticed that we fall on the couch "dead tired" after the kids go to bed lacking any energy to clean or work...we manage to watch a "House Hunter" and slip off to sleep.

But I long to "see" again, as I did when I was a child and my summer's were free...I long to walk out the door in the morning  in awe of the wonders that the day will bring...just like when I was a kid. 

I think one of the reasons Jesus said, "In order to enter the Kingdom of Heaven you must become like a little child" is because children have a way of being able to see the divine wonder in everything. They are able to combine the natural and spiritual...they realize that, like Elizabeth Browning said, "..there is nothing great or small...no lily-muffled hum of a summer-bee, But that finds some coupling with the spinning stars; No pebble at your foot, but proves a sphere; No chaffinch, but implies the cherubim...Earth is crammed with heaven."

For instance...A few days ago, during a rainstorm, Grant (our son) noticed the wind swirling about the trees and the water rushing down the gutters.  Apparently, he decided he wasn't going to miss the show...so he put on his black cowboy hat and rushed outside before we could stop him.  He disappeared into the storm...Mary saw him through our kitchen window...he was having a blast with his friends -- the wind and rain.  He threw branches over the fence and carried a wooden board that he was interested in from the back of the church to our backdoor.  One of our deacons uses it for target practice and he marveled at the bullet holes.

As I was watching Grant having fun in the rain, I thought to myself that somehow or someway during the busyness of the year I lost that divine wonder, but Grant didn't. 

Perhaps, in its wisdom, the church universal knew that we would inevitably get lost in the noise of the year...hence, Ordinary Time -- A time at the end of the Christian year to relax and be renewed by the quiet presence of Christ...to contemplate the mysteries of Christ and to reconnect with his quiet grace..to regain that childlike divine wonder.  BUT the responsibility of the disciple during this special time is to see the world with what Paul called, "The eyes of the heart" and to listen with our spiritual ears --  Similar to what Elijah had to do on Mt. Horeb in I Kings 19 when the Spirit passed quietly by speaking only in a low whisper.

The Scottish author Kenneth Grahame has a beautiful description of an encounter with the Spirit and a creatures response to the call of a holy "Other"  in his childrens book The Wind in the Willows.  In this scene, Rat and Mole are patrolling the river in search of a baby otter that has gone missing, when a divine mysterious music wafts across the water:

 "Then a change began slowly to declare itself.  The horizon became clearer, field and tree came more into sight, and somehow with a different look; the mystery began to drop away from them.  A bird piped suddenly, and was still; and a light breeze sprang up and set the reeds and bulrushes rustling.  Rat, who was in the stern of the boat, sat up...but Mole kept rowing and heard nothing.  'Its gone!' sighed Rat, sinking back in his seat again.  'So beautiful and strange and new.  It has roused a longing in me that is pain, and nothing seems worth while but just to hear that sound once more and go on listening to it for ever.  There is is again!  Now it passes.  O, Mole!  The beauty of it.  The merry bubble and joy, the thin, clear happy call in it is stronger ever than the music is sweet.  Row on Mole, for the call must be for us.'  


Mole quickly stops the boat, 'O, your hear it now Mole,' Rat says.  Mole was now possessed in all his senses by this new divine thing that caught up his helpless soul and swung and dandled it, a powerless but happy infant in a strong sustaining grasp....Mole felt a great awe come upon him, an awe that turned his muscles to water, bowed his head and rooted his feet to the ground.  It was no panic terror -- indeed he felt wonderfully at peace and happy -- but it was an awe that smote and held him and, without seeing, he knew it could only mean that the Divine was very very near. 

'Rat!' Mole whispered shaking, 'Are you afraid?'  'Afraid! O never, never! And yet -- and yet -- O, Mole, I am afraid.'  And then the two animals, crouching to the earth, bowed their heads and did worship."

I wonder if that was what Grant was doing the other day in the rain...worshiping?  I wonder if he saw...if he heard what Mary and I couldn't or wouldn't? 

Well, that is it!  I have decided to practice Ordinary Time...I want to see "Earth crammed with Heaven." I am going to try to obey Christ's command, "Those who have ears to hear, let them hear."  

Our family is going out to the ranch this evening.  We are going to ride the four-wheeler down to the banks of the Brazos river, have a picnic and watch the sun set.  Perhaps we will even stomp around in the creek -- Grant and Lucy love to do that.   If Mary and I look/listen really hard, I am sure that Christ will slip in and all around us...I bet he will pour his Spirit into our cracking cisterns and we will laugh and our all of us will "do worship" ...I will let you know how it turns out. 

Church

My wife just posted a wonderful blog about our amazing church family.  After reading it, I felt led to re-post it on my blog.  Her sentiments mirror mine....we feel so blessed.

I've been really sentimental about our church lately. Brad just finished his eighth year at Bosqueville. Our church was established in 1854 and yet Brad has now officially had the longest tenure of any of it's pastors.

It's funny being on this side of the fence when it comes to churches. Over the years, I've watched so many of my friends search for a church to call their home. They've church-shopped. I've listened as they've compared churches and listed the pros and cons of a particular church. This one has great worship, but no small groups; this one has amazing preaching but not a lot of young people; this one is really friendly but it's not very missional, and the list can go on and on.

Eight plus years ago Brad was in the middle of his Masters program with a lot of part-time pastoral experience but no full-time experience. We lived out at my grandparent's ranch and sometimes, if I was in the mood to take the long way home from work, I'd turn off Steinbeck Bend and drive all the way down Rock Creek Road, passing Bosqueville Baptist Church on my left. I always loved it's architecture, it's endearing steeple, it's white clap-board sides. One day, this church called us and wanted to interview Brad. A few weeks later, he preached for them in an evening worship service in a small church in Gatesville, Texas and afterwards we sat around a dinner table and talked about what it would be like for Brad to pastor their church.

We were not in a position to 'church shop'. We had a strong sense that the people we had met were genuine, salt-of-the-earth people. But that was about it, a sense, a hunch that things would be okay if we were to join this church. But largely it was just a leap of faith.

Eight years later, we're still here. All of the sudden I look around each Sunday and my heart feels so full. So full of memories, brimming with lessons learned and relationships treasured. We've laughed with these people, cried with these people, been hurt by these people, been healed by these people, been forgiven, been taught - and it's become family. The moments haven't all been easy, but looking back, I know they've all been sacred.

And I'm glad we didn't have the luxury to be in a position to be choosy. We just had to jump in and choose to accept, choose to love, choose to learn to get along.

I dressed the kids up this morning and Grant, Lucy, and I walked over to church. We stopped on the way to the nursery so Grant could hug Ms. Carolyn, one of his many surrogate grandmothers. In service, I clapped as we recognized Katie's 90th birthday - I want to be just like her when I grow up - wise, open-minded, hospitable, relevant, humorous. I sat in the pew in front of Nana and Terry. I listened to their voices behind me as we sang hymns, declaring how good God's love is. I passed the offering plate down the row till it reached Joseph and Tritne. Both were so young when we first came and they've grown so much - it's easy to see how God has put a hedge around them and is leading them. It's refreshing and exciting to watch. In front of me were Sarah and Natalie, who stole glances back at me and Grant. They came to our church from afar 2 years ago all the way from Russia. They burrowed their way right into our hearts and I treasure the little notes they draw for me and Lucy and Grant during service. I looked across the aisle to the Donaldson's. So many meals and conversations we've shared. Kyle was in grade school when we first came. This morning he played the guitar and helped usher me into the presence of God during worship. Lizzie had Maya in her lap. Little Maya who we prayed and prayed for, who every time I see her reminds me that God and God alone creates and sustains life, that God can surprise us in the most miraculous ways. Vic gave the offertory prayer. Whenever I see him, I am struck by one word - generosity. He is the most generous man I've ever met. I think that Jesus would really like that. Frank led us in prayer. He is the best cook. I made roast for lunch today with some of the venison he gave us last week. The same week the Bostick's shared 2 dozen fresh farm eggs with us. Tammy gave our closing word. She was brave to declare the words she did and I thought it was fitting she would end our service that centered around how rich God's love is towards us. As we walked outside toward home, the Merenda boys ran towards the parsonage to play basketball with Grant and take turns riding his bike. Jerome and Karan took all 4 of them in 2 years ago and our church has loved experiencing the energy that the lives of 4 little boys brings. Walking home I admire the neat piles of leaves stacked around our driveway. Danny was at our house yesterday. He mowed our yard and cleaned all the leaves up around the house. He and Joyce are a true comfort to Brad and me. We've relied on them for advice and guidance so many times. They give life to the word 'faithful'.

And I could go on and on and on, this was just a small sample from this morning. So many other faces and voices and stories and experiences fill my mind even now. Eight years ago, we took a more or less blind leap to join this group of people. And I hope that everyone gets to experience church as we have. Because church is where you learn about God and where you experience him through others. No church is perfect, but I wouldn't want a perfect church anyways.

A Silent Prayer Meeting

Every Wednesday night our church gathers together to pray.  I understand that "Prayer Meetings" are a fairly obsolete tradition that has lost its "place in line" within the modern evangelical church....even in our church attendance is sparse.  However, there is always a faithful remnant that returns each Wednesday again and again to pray as a family of faith. 

Yesterday evening I was in the sanctuary preparing for the meeting...gearing up for a sweet time of prayer with a few core members.  As I was turning on the lights and getting the heater cranked up, a well dressed man quietly walked in the front door.  Sheepishly, he asked if prayer meeting was going on tonight and I replied with an equally shy, "Yes, but there won't be many."  He noted that he did not care if anybody showed up...he only needed to see one person. 

At that comment, my "spiritual meter" was indicating something significant was about to happen.  He quietly walked to the front as if towards an unseen figure and I followed...respectful...as an assistant would lead a client to the "bosses office."  He sat at the Altar and tried to speak, but words were few...mostly tears flowed. I felt like the third wheel of  a holy meeting....respectfully, I sat and watched as he had a meeting with the divine.

His meaningful and needed encounter with God reminded me of the short poem by Elizabeth Rooney,

"Must we use words
For everything?
Can there not be
A silent flaming
Leap of heart 
Toward Thee?

The sacred wordless meeting was cut short by the arrival of the few faithful members who were unaware of the special moment. They walked in speaking of the days events...the weather and so on...
Respectfully, the stranger introduced himself and attended the word-filled prayer meeting.  He excused himself a bit early and left.  I led the remaining crowd in a closing prayer and we locked up the church and went home. 

Walking toward the house I realized that I was a part of two "prayer meetings."   I found myself longing to experience again the "one without words."  Perhaps I will try it on my own....perhaps I will try sending up "A silent flame, Leap of Heart Toward Thee."  I will let you know how it goes.