On The Healing Journey

Tuesday, December 18, 2012

Small Signs of Advent - Morning Stillness

Why is the morning so still?
Why is the time between darkness and dawn so very quiet?
The night voices begin to quiet themselves and the morning voices, like me, are hesitant to start moving. Stillness.  I open my eyes and leave the warm space to listen and wait. As the first rays of light peek through the trees, the morning noises, one by one, come to life. Another day. Another new morning reminds me of the words from Isaiah, "Morning by morning He wakens - wakens my ear to listen as those who are taught."( Isaiah 50:4)

I have learned the quiet before dawn is what rescues me from the perils of the day. The stillness and quiet waiting are when I hear the voice of God, assuring me that the One who brings his first rays of light to creation is also bringing me a ray of light, a ray of hope, a ray of guidance.  It is the example Jesus gave to his disciples where, "In the morning, while it was still very dark, he got up and went to a deserted place, and there he prayed. (Mark 1:35.) The Christ child teaches us.
I cannot help but wonder about those who miss the quiet before the dawn. Admittedly, sometimes I am one of those, but choosing to miss the lonely, quiet place of silence is dangerous. Henri Nouwen, in his book Out of Solitude says: "Somewhere we know that without a lonely place our lives are in danger. Somewhere we know that without silence words lose their meaning, that without listening speaking no longer heals, without distance closeness cannot cure. Somewhere we know that without a lonely place our actions quickly become empty gestures."
Where is the place of "somewhere?" The answer lies in my Advent reading for today.
"God wants to open the heart before it opens itself to the world; before the ear hears the innumerable voices of the day, the early hours are the time to hear the voice of the Creator and Redeemer. God made the stillness of the early morning for himself." (Dietrich Bonhoeffer, God Is In the Manger)
Open my heart, God, to your day and let me always show up as you wait for me in the stillness of the early morning.

Monday, December 17, 2012

Small Signs of Advent - Weeping for Newtown

The headlines tear to shreds my peaceful Advent journey.
 
Small, innocent children and teachers are senselessly murdered in our country. 
 
God, where were you at Sandy Hook Elementary School? God, you whose eyes are on the sparrow, who sees and knows everything, where were you when the tormented young man left his home where he killed is mother and then entered the school and opened fire on innocent victims?
It is unthinkable and my heart bleeds with the brokenhearted families who are reeling in pain and and whose lives will never be the same. I look for the "small sign" and can't seem to find it through my weeping.Maybe that is the small sign.

I return to the writing of Ann Weems who gives voice to anguish.
"Anger and alleluias careen around within me, sometimes colliding. 
Lamenting and laughter sit side by side in a heart that yearns for the peace that passes understanding. Those who believe in the midst of their weeping will know where I stand.
In the quiet times this image comes to me: Jesus weeping.
Jesus wept,
and in his weeping,
he joined himself forever
to those who mourn.
He stands now throughout all time,
this Jesus weeping
with his arms about the weeping ones:
'Blessed are those who mourn,
for they shall be comforted.'
He stands with the mourners,
for his name is God-with-us.
Jesus wept.
'Blessed are those who weep, for they shall be comforted.' Someday. Someday God will wipe the tears from their eyes.
In the godforsaken, obscene quicksand of life,
there is a deafening alleluia
rising from the souls
of those who weep,
and of those who weep with those who weep.
If you watch, you will see
the hand of God
putting the stars back in their skies
one by one."(Psalms of Lament)
Holy Infant Jesus, your tears are joined to mine. I hear the alleluias.

Thursday, December 13, 2012

Death - a Gift of Grace To Those Who Believe in God

Today I share a quote from a friend who had been doing some reading of her own. She ran across this passage written by Dietrich Bonhoeffer and sent it to me, remembering a loss we share. I now share it with you.



In a sermon Bonhoeffer preached while a pastor in London, he said:

"No one has yet believed in God and the kingdom of God, no one has yet heard about the realm of the resurrected, and not been homesick from that hour, waiting and looking forward joyfully to being released from bodily existence.

Whether we are young or old makes no difference. What are twenty or thirty or fifty years in the sight of God? And which of us knows how near he or she may already be to the goal? That life only really begins when it ends here on earth, that all that is here is only the prologue before the curtain goes up- that is for young and old alike to think about. Why are we so afraid when we think about death?...Death is only dreadful for those who live in dread and fear of it. Death is not wild and terrible, if only we can be still and hold fast to God's Word. Death is not bitter, if we have not become bitter ourselves. Death is grace, the greatest gift of grace that God gives to people who believe in him. Death is mild, death is sweet and gentile; it beckons to us with heavenly power, if only we realize that it is the gateway to our homeland, the tabernacle of joy, the everlasting kingdom of peace. 

How do we know that dying is so dreadful? Who knows whether, in our human fear and anguish we are only shivering and shuddering at the most glorious, heavenly, blessed event in the world?

Death is hell and night and cold, if it is not transformed by our faith. But that is just what is so marvelous, that we can transform death."

I wonder if those of use who are grieving can reflect on this and think of death as a gift of grace God has given our loved ones.

Wednesday, December 12, 2012

Today I want to share this from Joni Eareckson Tada in her book Pearls of Great Price:

Your eyes are too pure to look on evil; you cannot tolerate wrong...
Habakkuk 1:13


God permits all sorts of awful things to happen... things He doesn't approve of. God allows others to do what He would never do. At the same time, He hates evil. Please don't think that God sits back and nods appreciatively at the peddling of drugs to ninth graders. He's not the one who fired the ovens of Auschwitz and other Nazi death camps. He does not smile when doctors slip up leaving children with crippling defects, or high school linebackers crush the neck of the opposing team's quarterback. He hates these things.

God is truly grieved over evil. He is grieved at how we've ruined the world and abused each other. This grief is partly why He gave the Ten Commandments: don't murder, He says -- I hate unjust killing. Don't commit adultery -- I despise seeing families ripped apart. Don't steal -- society will crumble if you do. God cannot tolerate wrong...

This is why He sent Jesus to be born into our dark world. From the day of His birth, the forces of darkness began plotting against the Babe in the manger. Why? Because the adversary and his wicked hoards knew that this was the Child who would ultimately crush Satan and bring an end to wickedness in this world. God is so grieved over evil, that He sent His only Son to die in order that righteousness and peace, truth and love would prevail... in order that we might escape the clutches of hell and be welcomed into heaven. God permits what He hates to accomplish that which He loves.
                                             

Celebrate the defeat of darkness by singing this verse today from the Christmas carol, "Joy to the World": No more let sin or sorrow reign, nor thorns infest the ground; He comes to make His blessings known far as the curse is found!

God rest ye merry gentlemen, let nothing you dismay, remember Christ our Savior was born on Christmas Day: to save us all from Satan's power when we were gone astray, O tidings of comfort and joy!

Tuesday, December 11, 2012

Small Signs of God in Advent #10 - On The Bridge Between The Sacred and The Secular

Pont Sant Angelo, Rome
Yes, this blog is about grief. But Advent asks us to consider the Christ Child.

Millions of people celebrate the Christmas season, but not all of them are Christians. They shop and decorate. They attend the politically correct "Holiday" Party and participate in the music of the season. Some will say they are Christian, but just have trouble with a virgin birth and a resurrection - the two, really big mysteries. They say they believe in God and sometimes they go to church. They think there might be something after death - possibly a Heaven, but surely not a place called Hell. How could a loving God send someone to Hell? That's not very Christmas-y.
And then Advent comes and asks us to look again at the message proclaimed. The time is here when prophets warn, stars move in the sky  and angels proclaim. Those who are unsure in their faith find themselves in another Christmas quandary. They find themselves on the bridge between the sacred and the secular and the choice becomes one of confusion and distraction. Back and forth they go - we go. The immediate often reigns over the important. Sometimes it is the good over the best.
I heard a speaker who made a strong point about this division. She said there are two voices inside of us. Deep inside each of us there is God's Spirit calling. Outside, there is the world calling - usually pulling in the opposite direction. Somehow those voices gear up for our attention during the time of Advent. The world pulls us to material pleasures and God's Spirit pulls to one, holy silent night. It becomes a battle and Advent can leave us feeling sad and depressed.
The conversation between Charlie and Lucy in the movie A Charlie Brown Christmas explains our frustrations:
Charlie Brown: I just don't understand Christmas, I guess. I like getting presents and sending Christmas cards and decorating trees and all that, but I'm still not happy. I always end up feeling depressed."
Lucy: "Charlie Brown, you're the only person I know who can take a wonderful season like Christmas and turn it into a problem."
Christmas is not the problem. Christmas is the solution. Christmas is the voice that calls to us throughout the year. Maybe it's because during this beautiful season for celebrating, we find ourselves still on that bridge of indecisiveness, still wondering, still watching for some small sign of God.
God whose infant cries call me to your holy night,
                                Guide my steps to your sacred manger,
                                                                     For You are the solution.

For God so loved the world that He gave His only Son that whosoever believeth on Him should not perish, but have everlasting life. John 3:16    

Monday, December 10, 2012

Small Signs of God - Day 9 "The Part I Will Play This Christmas"



 Even on the grief journey, we must walk through the days of Christmas. Yes, they are hard. Sometimes we just want it to be January and all behind us. But go with me as we journey through Advent. I will be reposting some essays written last year. Maybe through the season, we can find ourselves healing a bit, day by day. Go with me.


When I was in 2nd grade, I was chosen to play the part of Mary in the Nativity Play. It was not because I was a budding actress, but simply because I was very tall like David Herrington who played the part of Joseph and the audience could see us better from a distance. I remember being excited that I got to bring my favorite doll to wrap and hold while the story unfolded on stage. I also liked the pale blue gown and the way the scarf draped over my head and fell in folds to the floor. I had to hold my head very still though for fear of it falling off. I hope you're smiling just picturing this event.  Most of us have acted out the scene at some point in our lives. My youngest daughter was a sheep one year and the way her ears flopped when she baa-ed made my sides burst when I REALLY wasn't supposed to be laughing. Oh, and one year six children in our home donned bathrobes  and acted out the scene to four proud parents. That one got a little out of hand when the two shepherds got in a fight with their broom-staffs.
Today I am asking myself: what part do I play in the Nativity? If I am the angels, well, then, I am already in Heaven and have the privilege of telling others not to worry. I can fly around and sing joyfully. If I am Joseph, I am dazed and confused, thinking about the newly defined family I have been asked to support and must find a hotel quickly because a baby is about to be born that is not even mine. If I am Mary, I am tired and weary, bearing the weight of the world, facing an uncertain future. If I am the innkeeper, I am busy making money and  knowing these people from Nazareth can't pay, should send them on their way - or on second thought,  offer them the shed. If I am the shepherds, I am looking for a little action - something in the sky is different and tending sheep can be such a drag. If I am the Wise Men, well, I will come later, but I do see something happening different in the  stars and I start shopping. If I am the animals, I can sense that something is different and I simply stand very still.
You see: all of creation plays a part in this mystery and wonder of the birth of Jesus. No one is exempt from the reality of the divine child in the stable. All Christian theology has its origin in the wonder of that night - when God became flesh. It is how we "play our part" in the story.  And in the end, scripture plainly tells us that every knee shall bow and every tongue will confess that Jesus Christ is Lord of all. (Romans 14:11)

God who becomes flesh among us,
              I want to be the angel, glorifying you
                                     or the lowly donkey, simply standing very still,
                   but you have made me the human with a mind of my own to choose my part;
                                 Give me the wisdom of the wise men to search for you with every breath I take.
                                                                                                                                Amen

Wednesday, December 5, 2012

Strength is Found in the Quiet

Grieving during the Christmas season is hard. My pain is magnified. It seems everywhere I turn, there are joyful people singing, or shopping, or baking, or celebrating. They are rushing to the gathering of friends or family. The pace is quickened, traffic is gnarled, and I become in a frantic state of "rush" to try to keep up with the world.

But I can't.

In reality, this is just the opposite of what we should be doing - especially when we are grieving. You see, we grievers need all the strength we can muster. We are exhausted from the pain of our sorrow. It is often hard to put one foot in front of the other. But we know we must. And so we try. But true healing comes for a griever when we allow our self the quiet. Strength is found in the quiet.
As Streams in the Desert says, "For a lake to reflect the heavens on its surface, it must be calm."

And so where do I find "calm" during the season of hustling and bustling?
 - early morning walks in my garden
 - a church sanctuary in the middle of the week
 - a star-filled sky
 -  Ave Maria sung by Jewell or Josh Groban
 - a fireside chat  with a friend over a late afternoon cup of coffee
 - an Advent daily devotional
 - Christmas stories reread from years ago
 - Stratford Hall Ginger Cookies - mixed and rolled in sugar
 - a heart that can weep and smile and remember
 - watching for someone who needs a dollar handed to them
 - kind, thought-out  words
 - Jesus, who set the example of "going up on a mountainside by himself (Matthew 14:23)

It takes work to find the calm. Sometimes we too must, go up a mountain all alone.
There we find it.