Category Archives: Suffering

We want the details.

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Our Birgitta began drawing faces at age 3 and never stopped, so with all those years of practice, her portraits have become (I believe) quite good.

When she was little, though, she drew primitively like most children do. As her attention span lengthened and she focused on one piece of paper longer, she added more detail. This picture was drawn at age 4, and like all her creations, I loved asking her about it.

“Who’s this?” I said.

“It’s a girl. She’s thinking.”

“About what?”

“Cookies,” she said. “She loves cookies.”

“She has a pretty bow,” I said, noticing its three parts colored differently.

“For her curly hair.”

We talked about the elbow marks, the hairy eyebrows, the beautiful teeth, the dramatic makeup, and the curly bangs. I saw how she’d carefully colored the inside of her mouth red and put pupils in the eyes, nostrils on the nose.

Life’s important stuff is in the details. When we buy a new car, we want to know everything it can do. When we purchase a product at the grocery store, we flip it over to read its ingredients. When someone has a baby, we want the blow-by-blow of labor and delivery.

Our quest for detail is also true when we ponder the events of Good Friday, but God hasn’t told us everything we want to know. I’d like to know how much detail Jesus himself knew ahead of time about those last 48 hours.

When did he learn Judas was a traitor? Did he know it when he first chose him? What about the bogus trials he’d have to endure and the humiliation he would experience through the mocking of his captors? Did he know the extent of that ahead of time? Did he know his disciples would run when he needed them most? His words to Peter about betrayal hinted that he did.

Did he have an inkling of how brutal the Roman torture would be? And did he really believe his Father would turn away completely? Surely these details had all come clear by the time he was agonizing in the garden, face to the ground.

Tonight at our church we attempted to participate in some of the details of those last 48 hours as we walked The Stations of the Cross: tasting his salty tears, lifting his heavy cross, tearing fabric to represent his torn flesh. We think maybe if we knew more, we might be able to participate more in his suffering.

Though Scripture tells us much, a great deal is left unsaid. But just like the detail in Birgitta’s current drawings has become more complete (at left), I believe Jesus will one day let us know the particulars of his incredible sacrifice. It’ll happen when we’re living with him in paradise, and when we get the full knowledge of those last 48 hours, we’ll go flat on our faces before him, awed that he endured so much…

…for us.

“Grace was given us in Christ Jesus before the beginning of time, but it has now been revealed through the appearing of our Savior, Christ Jesus, who has destroyed death and has brought life.” (2 Timothy 1:9,10)

Snapping toward Zero

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Friday while driving from Michigan to Chicago, I saw a van painted like a can of Coke Zero, black with red writing. Since I love Coke Zero and was enjoying one at the time, I thought I’d pull alongside and hold up my can. The driver would see how enthusiastically I endorsed his product, and it might make his day.

But as I leveled off with him, I glanced at the driver who, it turned out, was far too busy to notice my raised can. With one hand holding a phone to his ear and the other texting on a different phone, I figured he was probably driving with his knee. I decided the wisest thing was to distance myself from him and his no-handed driving.

Multi-tasking is one thing, but being stretched too thin is something else. A perfect illustration is our age-old childhood friend, Silly Putty. We all played with this rubbery stuff as kids, shaping and reshaping it endlessly without it ever becoming dry or hard.

If we rolled it into a ball, it bounced around the room energetically, never running out of pep. But if we stretched it slowly side-to-side, it thinned with impressive elasticity that seemed to go on forever. Until, that is, it broke in two.

Each of us can take only so much stretching-thin before we fall apart. It’s true God gives us work we must do, just like he gave jobs to Adam and Eve. Scripture says we’ll also have tasks to accomplish in heaven. But the work of Eden was deeply satisfying, and the work of heaven promises to be rewarding. Meanwhile, present-day work between those two ends isn’t nearly as good. Because of that it can quickly stretch us thin and bring on a snap.

Of course we’ve all been told to choose work that leans into our natural giftings. Nate told our children, “Try to make a living doing something you love.” That’s wise counsel but doesn’t always work out. So what do we do if we can’t work at what we love? Is there another way to keep from cracking under frustrating workloads?

There is.

Proverbs says, “Commit your works to the Lord, and your thoughts shall be established.” (16:3) Scripture tells us that even those tasks that don’t use our natural skills can take on rich meaning if we’ll first dedicate them to him. I learned this years ago in reference to the endless, messy work of motherhood. If we’ll pull God into whatever job we have to do, we’ll do well at managing it, and more importantly, we’ll change the way we think about it. The NLT version says our plans will actually succeed. That’s a pretty good deal.

I’m not sure, however, if God will ever make it easy to talk on the phone, text a message, and drive with a knee, all at the same time.

“Commit your way to the Lord; trust in him, and he will act.” (Psalm 37:5)

The “Why” Question, Part 2 of 2

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Yesterday we “met” John Kunz, a pastor who died of cancer after only 3½ months of warning. When he received his diagnosis, of course he wasn’t happy about it. He prayed and hoped for healing, but he was also a realist. According to those closest to him, his faith in God never weakened, right to the end.

As he accepted his diagnosis, many others didn’t. Several asked the “why” question, and by way of online journaling, he tried to help them understand what he already knew to be true:

“If each of us did everything right our whole lives, we would still die, because we’re part of the human race. So you see, anyone who reads and believes Genesis 3 knows the answer to the question “why.” It’s because we’re part of the human race. Each of us will die of something, we just don’t know when or how. But we do know ‘why.’

This is what makes the message of Jesus so important. He left Heaven’s glory to come and be the cure for human sin. He came to replace death with life for everyone who believes. Jesus was marred by the power of sin, because God made Him who knew no sin to be sin on our behalf. After He paid for our sins, He disarmed and will ultimately remove the power of sin totally and completely.

I remember the impact of this truth the first Christmas after Sue’s stroke. Our family was gathered around the Christmas tree. Sue was semi-conscious at a nursing facility. All the gifts had been handed out except one with no name on it, so the kids brought it to me.

I recognized it as the camera I’d purchased for Sue before the stroke. As I held that little package in my hand, I broke into tears for our loss.

But then the thought of “Christmas = Jesus” flooded my mind. We were celebrating the birth of the One who came to die in order to defeat the power that causes things like strokes. And I began to rejoice. Because of Jesus, Sue would one day be made whole, and that same truth sustains me now. The power that marred perfection will be replaced with perfection!

So you see the question isn’t ‘why.’ The better question is, ‘What am I going to do about it?’ Sue and I have been on a 27 year adventure figuring that out, and now we’re trying to figure it out in my situation.

When something bad happens in your life, don’t spend time trying to answer ‘why.’ Remember, the answer is that you are part of the human race. Focus your attention instead on what you’re going to do about it, and you’ll know the peace, comfort and guiding presence of the Person of God.”

http://www.caringbridge.org/visit/kunzjohn

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“God made Christ, who never sinned, to be the offering for our sin, so that we could be made right with God through Christ.” (2 Corinthians 5:21)

 

The “Why” Question, Parti 1 of 2

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When serious troubles enter our lives, the human tendency is to say, “This isn’t fair.” From childhood on, we crave equality, and when tragedy strikes one person but not another, it doesn’t feel right. Even if we don’t say it out loud, our brains reverberate with the words, “No fair!”

As we finally come to terms with our disease, disability, abandonment, or other calamity, the next question is, “Why me?” Searching for reasons on which to hang our difficulties is part of human logic attempting to order of chaos. The only problem is, when bad things happen to good people, logic has very little to do with it.

Through the wonders of cyberspace, I “met” a man who was double-struck with tragedy, a pastor, a thinker, and a good writer. (He’s the father of Jennifer, who’s married to Aaron, who’s the son of my cousin Gloria.) The pastor’s name is John Kunz, and never to have met him is my loss.

John’s first crisis came when his wife, Sue, had a major stroke, debilitating her in all categories and rearranging their family permanently. When the stroke hit, their children were ages 9, 6, 4 and 2, so these youngsters grew up in a home revolving around their disabled mom. John cared for Sue with joy and love for the next 27 years until the second crisis hit, his own terminal cancer. Acceptance of his failing health was complicated by him knowing he wouldn’t “finish the adventure” with his beloved wife.

As for asking “why,” here are his comments, written near the time of his diagnosis:

“When Sue’s stroke happened nearly 27 years ago, a lot of folks asked ‘why.’ Some are again asking the ‘why’ question in connection with my current diagnosis. Here’s my answer.

There’s a power in the universe so strong it has the ability to mar perfection. It’s called sin. Once this power was unleashed, it threw ‘cosmic dust’ all over the throne room of God, all over the Person of the Godhead, and all over His creation. Imperfection marred perfection. This is Genesis 3.

When Adam and Eve disobeyed God and ate of the forbidden tree, they introduced death into our experience. Some may want to debate what ‘death’ means, but I know it’s the opposite of the ‘life’ God intended for humanity. Everybody dies, and so will each of us. The power/principle of sin is no respecter of persons. It has its grimy hooks in everyone.

So, ‘why’ did this (or that) happen to…..?”

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[His answer and what to do about it, tomorrow.]

“With eager hope, the creation looks forward to the day when it will join God’s children in glorious freedom from death and decay. For we know that all creation has been groaning as in the pains of childbirth right up to the present time.” (Romans 8:21-22)

Cry it out.

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I’ve always been impressed when actors cry on cue. Recently I read the biography of Melissa Gilbert who played the part of Laura Ingalls on the TV series “Little House on the Prairie.” When an episode called for tears, she’d separate herself, close her eyes, and withdraw into a sad memory, focusing on it until she’d brought it from her past into her present. After several minutes, real tears would come.

I wonder if there’s a difference between coaxed tears and those that come when we’re trying to hold them back. If examined under a microscope, would scientists be able to tell the difference?

My friend Barb Ingraham wrote, “When scientists studied human tears, they discovered the purpose of the tears determined their chemical composition. Tears to cleanse foreign objects were different from tears of sorrow, which were different from tears of joy.”

When I read that, I thought immediately of our God who delights in tending to details, assigning a purpose to each one. He cares about our crying, keeps track of our tears, and ministers to the reason for our weeping. And it gets even better than that. God uses the product of our grief, the tears themselves, to help us. Barb wrote, “Tears of sorrow actually have natural anti-depressants that cause a literal lift in body and spirit.” We have an awesome, helpful God!

When I was a newlywed, I awoke one night feeling sad about something (can’t recall what) and started to cry. Climbing out of bed and heading into the next room, I sat on the couch and bawled my eyes out, wishing Nate would wake up and come looking for me. I desperately needed his arms around me but wasn’t going to wake him.

I sat on the couch sobbing for 15 minutes or so when suddenly there he stood in the doorway, his eyebrows up and his mouth hanging open. “What’s wrong?” he said.

“I’m sad.”

“What should I do?”

I looked up at him with my wet face and runny nose, aching to have him enfold me in his arms but wanting him to initiate it. (Such was the mindset of a newlywed.) Because he couldn’t think of anything else to do, he sat down next to me and put his arms around me, exactly what I’d longed for.

I melted into him with a tremendous sense of relief and gratitude. Before long my crying calmed to a sniffle, and we both went back to bed. The crisis had passed, because of his love.

Each of us cries because of a crisis, and it’s God’s love that can bring us through. We see it in his design of our specific tears, realizing he knows why we’re hurting and, more importantly, knows what we need. Whether it’s reassurance of his love or something more, he’ll make sure we get it. He may not take away our crisis, but he’ll be our shoulder to cry on as we move through it.

And he makes this additional promise:

“They that sow in tears shall reap in joy.” (Psalm 126:5)