We are All in the Same Boat

I began this New Year's Eve morning by reading a wonderful note from my cousin. Looking ahead to the coming year, Janey shared a few lines from the inspirational writing of Sue Monk Kidd. As I looked up the quote and read the entire piece by Kidd, I found her words convicting and compelling as I contemplate the coming new year.

On a bitter night in January, I sit on a train that rumbles away from the airport in Atlanta ... I'm supposed to be flying home to South Carolina, but minutes before my departure, the entire airport closed because of an impending ice storm ...

It's a long ride ... Soon there are only three of us. A middle-aged woman sits across from me. I look at her for the first time and notice that she's crying. As she wipes tears with the back of her hand, her gaze lingers on my face ... She's asking for my attention.

... I feel sad for her, but what can I do? She's carrying her own troubles and I can't fix them ... I look away from her, retreating into the murmur of the train. Quietly, uncomfortably unavailable.

... The second night she comes powerfully into my dreams. She sits across from me, this time in a rowboat. Her tears gush over the tiny precipice of her eyelids like waterfalls. The boat is filling up with this sad water, and I realize that if I don't do something, we're going to sink. Both of us ...

The dream cracks my heart, and I wake with solemn wonder, reunited with an old truth:

People with profound human needs and suffering do not, as I have half-imagined and half-wished, travel in a boat separate than mine. In ways I have scarcely appreciated, we are all in the same boat, and I can't be unavailable to their suffering without jeopardizing my own soul. We will sink together or we will float together.

Excerpted from Firstlight: The Early Inspirational Writings of Sue Monk Kidd, Guideposts Books, 2006

Similarly, Jesus spoke of the opportunity to share in the sufferings of others in Luke 10:30-34 ~

A man was going down from Jerusalem to Jericho, and he fell among robbers, who stripped him and beat him and departed, leaving him half dead. Now by chance a priest was going down that road, and when he saw him he passed by on the other side. So likewise a Levite, when he came to the place and saw him, passed by on the other side. But a Samaritan, as he journeyed, came to where he was, and when he say him, he had compassion. He went to him and bound up his wounds, pouring on oil and wine. Then he set him on his own animal and brought him to an inn and took care of him. 

I am moved by the words Martin Luther King, Jr., in response to Jesus' Parable of the Good Samaritan ~

The first question which the priest and the Levite asked was: "If I stop to help this man, what will happen to me?" But ... the good Samaritan reversed the question: "If I do not stop to help this man, what will happen to him?"

Convicting. There have been times when I did not stop when those around me were asking for my attention; times when I may have stopped and merely watched as they strained at the oars. There have been times when I could have, no should haveclimbed in the boat to bail water or simple sit still to balance the boat against the storms of life. I admit, it is so much easier to rejoice with those who rejoice than to weep with those who weep. But that is the essence of living in community.

Compelling. My prayer and hope for the new year is that I would be willing to be fully present in the lives of those around me; to recognize that we are all in the same boat, and I can't be unavailable to their suffering without jeopardizing my own soul. We will sink together or we will float together.

May these thoughts be more than New Year's Eve sentiment, but truly motivate me to redeem the future that lies ahead in the coming year.

Forgiveness from the Cross

When I survey the wondrous cross

On which the Prince of Glory died

My richest gain I count but loss

And pour contempt on all my pride

See from His head, His hands, His feet

Sorrow and love flow mingled down

Did e'er such love and sorrow meet

Or thorns compose so rich a crown

Oh the wondrous cross

Oh the wondrous cross

Bids me come and die and find that I

May truly live

It is late and Good Friday is almost over. I crawled out of bed to make some sense of the scenes and words I heard tonight that just keep playing in my mind. I attended a local production of the Passion of Christ earlier this evening. I know the story of Easter. I can re-tell all of the events of Holy Week.

But tonight, as I stood with believers from all around my town, I was struck once again with the words Jesus spoke from the Cross ~

Father, forgive them for they know not what they do.

I watched tonight as they beat him, whipped him, and spat on him.  The crowds jeered at him as he stumbled under the weight of the cross and the burden of my sin.  The soldiers mocked him on the cross ~ Is this your King? And then he spoke ~

Father, forgive them for they know not what they do.

I began to think of the times in my life when I have been mistreated ~ words spoken to me in anger, stories repeated that were not true, laughter at my expense, exclusion rather than embrace. These hurts and offenses pale in comparison to what He suffered during the last 24 hours of His life.

So how was He able to forgive them for all the suffering and pain? Because it never was about Him.  It was always about us ~ you and me, the soldiers and chief priests, the rulers and the commoners.

Oh that I would learn to die to self. That I would release my need to be right and choose to be reconciled with even my enemies.  May I be the one who speaks the words ~

Father, forgive them for they know not what they do.

Painting by Master of the Starck Triptych
The Raising of the Cross [center, left, and right panels], c. 1480/1490

God is Good . . . No Matter What

Maybe it is just me, but at times I feel some tension when I hear people express their gratitude for God's goodness because things went well for them.

You know - the news camera pans the street of homes destroyed by a tornado in the small Midwest town, save one house left standing. The homeowner of the house spared by the twists and turns of the tornado, stands among the rubble of her neighbors' homes and tells the reporter, "God is so good. Our house was spared." Am I the only one thinking about all the families whose homes were flattened - was God NOT good to them?

I remember a coworker sharing with me about her grandmother who was very ill in a nearby hospital; she was so excited that her grandmother had made it through the night. With great joy she said, "Isn't God good? My grandmother is better this morning."

I rejoiced with her that her grandmother had not passed away. Then I gently and lovingly said, "Even if your grandmother did not make it through the night, God is still good."

When our son was on life-support for 30 hours in 1996, we prayed for healing. But there was no healing. Was God not good to us?

It seems so easy, so natural to speak of His greatness, His goodness, His faithfulness when we experience things going our way.

God is so good - our bid on the house was accepted.

God is so good - my cancer is gone.

God is so good - we get to go to Disneyland.
(I know that last one is lame, but folks, I've heard it!)

I don't want you to think I am insensitive when people recognize and rejoice in God's goodness. I know that every good and perfect gift comes from Him. I know that He is the provider of all that we have and the sustainer of all that we are. I am grateful for His goodness.

But I wonder how many of us look for His goodness, His greatness and His faithfulness in the disappointments and heartbreaks, and the griefs and losses in our lives? God is still the provider and sustainer of those individuals whose homes were lost by the tornado. God is still a good God even if our loved one dies.

This age of technology which allows us to warn communities of severe weather conditions, diagnose and treat major diseases, and in many ways cheat death, also gives us a sense of expecting the good . . . and only the good.

We are amazed when bad things come our way. How could a loving God allow that to happen? Where was God when that plane went into the ocean? Why did their son have to die so young?

And yet, in the midst of our pain and suffering, there is a GOOD GOD who is still the Blessed Controller of All Things. Proverbs 19:21 says,

Many are the plans in a man's heart,
but it is the LORD's purpose that prevails.

This verse tells me that there will be times when things will NOT go my way. There are times when I will think God LET ME DOWN.

How do we see His goodness in the depth of our struggle? We train our eyes to focus on HIS purpose. He promises to bring glory to Himself and draw people to His Kingdom. He promises to one day reconcile all things to Himself.

The writer of Lamentations knew this. Have you ever thought about the life someone must be living to write a book called Lamentations? That fellow knew suffering and sorrow. He writes in chapter 3, verses 18-26:

So I say, "My splendor is gone and all that I had hoped from the LORD."
Remember my affliction and my wanderings,
the wormwood and the gall!
My soul continually remembers it and is bowed down within me.
But this I call to mind, and therefore I have hope:
The steadfast love of the LORD never ceases;
his mercies never come to an end;
they are new every morning; great is your faithfulness.
"The LORD is my portion," says my soul,
"therefore I will hope in him."
The LORD is good to those whose hope is in him,
to the one who seeks him;
it is good to wait quietly for the salvation of the LORD.

I am not advocating that we stop praising God for His goodness when we feel blessed. I am proposing that we look for His faithfulness, His goodness, and His mercies in all circumstances. They are there even when we do not feel or see them because our plans did not prevail.

God is good, and His mercy and faithfulness are new every morning, no matter what.

Faith That Cannot Be Eclipsed

I remember the first time I saw a solar eclipse as a child. A total solar eclipse could be frightening for people who are unaware of its explanation, as the Sun seems to disappear in the middle of the day and the sky darkens in a matter of minutes. For me, it has since become a wonderful illustration of transformation in suffering.

While talking with a friend last week, I was reminded of this as our conversation turned to the suffering of Job, a righteous man, given so much to bear. My friend and I talked about the exchange of words between God and Satan recorded in the first chapter of the Book of Job. After some debate about Job’s commitment to trust God in all circumstances, God gives Satan permission to bring on the suffering!

I began to reflect upon a similar event recorded in the New Testament. Jesus declares to Simon Peter in Luke 22:31-32, that Satan has demanded permission to bring suffering into the lives of righteous individuals. Jesus says:

Simon, Simon, behold, Satan has demanded permission to sift you like wheat; but I have prayed for you, that your faith may not fail; and you, when you have turned again, strengthen your brothers.

To be totally transparent here, I am a bit uneasy by what Jesus does not say to Satan. I would prefer to hear Jesus say:

Satan has demanded permission to sift you like wheat;

but I have told him “No.”

I am not a student of Greek, but there are times when knowing the original language can grow us. That is the case for me in these words of Jesus. A deeper look at Luke 22:31-32 helps me understand the power in Jesus’ prayer.

Jesus’ words, “that your faith may not fail” are really metaphorical. In the Greek, Jesus says, “I have prayed . . . that your faith may not Ekleipo.” Our word eclipse comes from this Greek word, ekleipo. It means to darken, obscure or diminish in importance; to surpass or outshine.

Jesus is saying to Simon Peter, just before His own crucifixion, and to us today, “I have prayed . . . that your faith may not be darkened, obscured or diminished from what Satan may bring into your path.”

And the image of that first solar eclipse I saw as a child comes to mind. Suffering, like the moon itself, seems to orbit around my life on a fairly regular basis because of choices I make that are not the best for me or Satan’s desire to sift me like wheat. Satan wants this suffering to darken and diminish my faith and hope in the Lord.

I don’t know about you, but the image of an eclipse is powerful to me. Jesus’ words indicate that it is possible for MY FAITH to be stronger, deeper, wider ~ to literally shine through SUFFERING. It is possible for me to not be destroyed, but rather transformed. These changes will not destroy me, but can give me a chance to speak of a faith that is firm and cannot be eclipsed!