No Control Over Death

Death separates us and draws us together. As people of faith, it asks us to come together and celebrate life.. It asks us to remember the good of the deceased. As people of faith, it requires worship of us. Death asks us, very quietly, to love one another in hope and trust and faith - now. Death heals and comforts and amazingly does it better than life. Death keeps us real.

Is it because in life, we  try to find our way on our own, often unwilling to think about death? We have faith, but we also have our minds made up about how we should live, how we should respond. As I wrote last week, we get diverted.  Self always gets in the way of faith. And Self is blind sighted when Death comes in and draws a line and says, "You have no control anymore. Now what do you say?" And then we must accept the reality of life and death. Then we must recognize the illusion under which we reside. The illusion that we can make our lives a certain way or we can manage the length of our lives if we are smart, careful, and health conscious. We can do every thing right, but we have no control over death.

Henri Nouwen speaks of this as the third movement of the Christian life. (The first movement is from loneliness to solitude; the second movement is from hostility to hospitality.) This third movement is from the illusion that life is not what we thought it would be to a life of prayer. A life of prayer that says, "Thy will be done."

That does not mean that we sit down and wait to die. Other passages in scripture instruct us to work. "Serve the Lord with gladness", " Work as onto the Lord"," Whatever you do work at it with all your heart, mind, soul, and strength."  And while we work at our jobs, we can maintain a servant heart for those around us. And while we work and love others, we begin to learn we are not our own, but we belong to a heavenly Father who loves us and is watching us as we make our way to the day we will die.

These three movements become living and active as we contemplate their rich meanings:

1. From loneliness to solitude is the movement where discover that we can are loved by a great God. We never need fear of being alone because in trusting Jesus Christ, we have this friend and Savior who is always with us - every day on this earth and into Eternity when we die. There is never a day without the faithful friendship of Jesus for those who trust in Him.

2. From hostility to hospitality helps us to discover that as a believer, we can let go of the insecurities we cling to in this life. And when we let go, there is room for loving others richly, without conditions or criticisms. We can forgive and grow. We can, in fact, be hospitable.

3. From illusion to prayer frees us to laugh at our humanness. We discover we are so very out of control - really. But in our "out-of control-ness" we are freed to trust in the One who calms all our fears, comforts us in our weaknesses, and strengthens us for duty. It becomes easy to turn our prayers to our Lord and trust Him. No matter what.

And when Death comes, we won't feel lonely. We won't feel hostile. We will know that this life is not what we thought all along, but a preparation ground for a new life - rich in prayer and worship of an Eternal God.

Diverted, Never Altered

Yesterday my brother-in-law died. No more debilitating headaches. No more diabetes. No more heart condition. No more depression. No more struggle trying to find a spot in this world. And although I know he will be missed terribly by his immediate family, I privately rejoice that he is free of his bondage. Free from insecurity and frustration. Free from feeling like a failure. Free from pain.

This morning I read in a devotional (My Utmost for His Highest) that the entire human race was created to glorify God and to enjoy Him forever. It went on to say that Sin has diverted the human race onto another course, but it has not altered God's purpose to the slightest degree.  I know that "diversion" presents itself every day in some form to each one of us. Diversion can be ugly like a stroke leaving one helpless and dying. Diversion also can be alluringly beautiful, like fortune and fame, often leading us down another course.  For some, the diversion consumes us. But read this again: the diversion of Sin has not altered God's purpose to the slightest degree.

This must mean that success in the world's eyes has nothing to do with God's purpose. Sort of hurts our pride for those of us who think we have somehow avoided most diversions and been able to maintain careers, families, and a decent resume.  I am ashamed to admit the times I was frustrated with my brother-in-law. His ailments, inability to work, his lack of get up and go. All according to me.

 But as I think about him today, new words describing him speak to my heart. "Love is patient. Love is kind. It does not envy. It does not boast.it is not proud. it is not rude, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil, but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres. Love never fails." I Corinthians 13

And then I must ask myself, "Do I exhibit these characteristics my brother-in-law exhibited? In what ways am I diverted? Am I doing everything possible to live God's purpose for me now?"

Funny how death always makes us think differently.


This blog is about the healing journey, the way to find wholeness when the diversions are great. Illness, disease, bad habits and life choices all lure us and sweep us away, seeking to destroy us as a beautiful creation that God himself designed. If we were created to glorify God, we certainly don't show it on many days. Which course are you on?

Finding Healing in Retreat - From Hostility to Hospitality

A month ago - or two - I wrote about moving from loneliness to confident solitude. This is a movement in our losses, in our struggles, and in our own journey of healing to this place of confident solitude. It is knowing we are loved by God, our Creator in a way no earthy love could ever fulfill.  When we make this discovery, we learn to love the God relationship and we work to stay in tune and in touch with our Creator. That is what God intended from the beginning. We are loved. We are cherished. It matters not how we are tossed around by others and the events of life. We become real like the skin horse in the story the Velveteen Rabbit. Real through the cross of Christ. We find that we can have solitude with Him and it is more than enough.

The phone call from church reminded me that our church theme for the new month is hospitality. Coming home - you know, back to church, back to worship after the events of summer. Coming home to friends and fellowship, music and worship. Home to a faith community who loves God and loves each other.

And so how do we, confident in who we are in Christ, then open ourselves to the richness hospitality provides. Or do we? Are we really safe enough to let go of our inner hostilities to be hospitable? To ourselves? To one another?
Henri Nouwen offers up his thoughts on this second movement in the Christian life. It goes back to the first movement - trusting in God who frees us from all loneliness. And when we are free in the knowledge of who we are, then we can begin to let down the barriers that prevent us from becoming even more - a person who is okay and trusts their "realness" in full view of others. We can be free to be who we were intended to be. We are safe in our transparencies. We let go of anger and blaming and injustices. We become people of grace and forgiveness and acceptance.

I have discovered through the years that a retreat is a safe way to let go and open up to the richness of hospitality. Especially for mothers who have lost children, a retreat becomes a special healing place. and when healing occurs, we find we can be hospitable to ourselves and then to our families and then to the world around us.


One might ask, "Why in the world would I want to go to a retreat where 20 other mothers bring their grief-stricken hearts together? Isn't it just about too much grief in one room?" And I would answer,"Yes. It is a lot of grief. But something mysterious and beautiful happens. One mom is brave enough to start talking. Another joins in. One says nothing and cries. No one dominates or tries to "fix" another. We just let it flow naturally, guided by scripture and questions that keep us on track. We break and find strength in the marsh air. We rest and regroup. And we heal. We leave on that third day with more hope than we brought with us. We return to our grief work with tools and encouragement for our ongoing work of finding a different way in our lives without our child.

If you are grieving the loss of a child, or know someone who is, please forward this to them and encourage them to participate on November 7-9 at the beautiful Epworth by the Sea in St. Simons, GA.  To register, go to www. epworthbythesea.org.