Leaning Forward

The correct question

When crisis or tragedy calls us out, our first question is usually, "how do I get out of this?" Early this year a person I follow on Twitter hammered a new thought into my thick skull by suggesting a more appropriate question: "what do I get out of this?" You see, the experiences that hit us hardest matriculate us into the graduate school of hard knocks. The lessons we learn in this classroom provide the means for us to eventually crawl out of the pit and re-enter life. We're changed by them, hopefully matured. "What?" challenges us deeply.

Well, there are the Sunday School answers, the greeting card sentiments that at first seem so shallow. Yes, the "what?" question, if asked genuinely, forces us to examine our beliefs, to go deep for meaning, to review our most cherished values through the microscopic lens of pain. Of course, the final "what? often consists of a bulletted list of the ideals that have shaped us, re-affirmed through the acid tests of long nights and labored thought. 

Recently, my mind has been stayed on one Scripture verse. Like most ministers I've quoted this verse in hundreds of funeral services, a sentence of comfort for people who are dealing with the death of a person they loved and cherished. It is from John's vision, something he was instructed to write down. He was told, "Write: Blessed are the dead who die in the Lord from now on" (Rev. 14:13). Profound!!!

At first glance, it seems like little more warm fuzzies, more stock answers to help us grapple with the mysteries of death. On second thought---and third, fourth, and one millionth thoughts too, it is a deep element of our faith. Considering this verse has prompted me to think about my own concept of the after-life and the reality of all that the Bible promises to Christ followers. Through our pain, one of the lessons must be the total joy of heaven, the blessedness of eternity with Christ, the assurance of final redemption. It is a thrilling thought when examined in the "what?" classroom.

Harriet found the picture above many months ago. It has been a source of great comfort to us lately. Maybe it's just projection, but the young man in the picture resembles Brian from behind. Well, it's just an artists rendering. No one knows about heaven or the glory of what takes place there. But, it does help us find a tangible expression of "what?" we are learning in this graduate curriculum.

If Revelation 14:13 doesn't make us want to shout, it may be the result of our faulty, flawed understanding of heaven and life eternal. The "what?" question has re-kindled our hope and expectation of heavenly peace and joy. We are reminded that our loss is real, but that Brian and all of our Christian loved ones are in awe of Him who made it all possible in the first place.

What can I get out of this? That's the question.

 

 

The thing about time

Most people don't know what to say in tragedy. So, their good intentions and best instincts usually prompt axioms and catch phrases they've heard from others. They mean well, and so the recipient often has to offer an embrace and say words of appreciation even when the comfort is hollow. That time is a healer is one of them. It's just not true. Not in such abbreviated form.

It's really elementary. God is the healer. Yes, He can use human agency to guide us through the personal storms of grief. Even then, time can be a special means of perspective, creating some distance from the events, allowing us to observe things through the filter of reflection, the deliberations of the dark night of the soul. Still, time itself is not the healer. No, time heals only in a secondary sense.

In many instances time just deepens the wounds or feeds the bitterness birthed in our shocking moments. Unless we are engaged in restorative therapy the times of recovery may actually enflame our sense of loss or ignite in us questions that cannot be answered. Sometimes this occurs because of linear thinking, which characterizes human process and often hijacks our grief cycles. You see, grief isn't chronological or linear. Don't bring a stop watch to the grieving process. It is a circular, looped activity, often transporting us across the same ground over and over again. Unless we overlay the loop with redemptive character, the times of it can be viscious. The end is visible in a straight track. Not so in circular movement. So, time can be a healer only if we are occupied with healing substance through it.

Our family is almost a year away from Brian's murder. Today, the pain is as intense, our sadness as acute, as it was that first week. In fact, we may miss him more now, having experienced the year of firsts---Thanksgiving, Christmas, birthdays, Mother's and Father's Days, etc. They have kept the wounds fresh. But, there is the distance thing, and the promise of healing as we have activated recovery into our own life cycles. Without them, time would not have become our friend. Rather an enemy.

Harriet and I have seen counselors regularly. Each week I get to bleed a little in the public arena of church services, with a congregation that encourages me to talk about this tragedy. Then, there's been the Grief Share group that was started at our church, a small group study for people struggling through the crucible of loss. At the same time, we've prayed more together than ever in our 39 year journey. Too, we've been convicted to immerse ourselves in our children and grandchildren, the plan of God for the ages. Time really hasn't eased the pain. He has! I'm convinced He's used these and other media to convey His peace to us.

There's another understanding too. It is the principle of due time! Early in the hours of our grief God gave us a promise. Peter penned it. it has been our guide through this long, dark night. "Humble yourselves therefore under the mighty hand of God, so that He may exalt you in due time..." (1 Peter 5:6). We know He's going to give us healing. That's because He is the healer! 

But, only in HIs time.  

Leaning forward, again

OK, kids, here's a metaphor for the day. Pictured stage right is a Uno Electric Uni-cycle. It's the future of travel, they say! The metaphor part is that this unit accelerates when the operator leans forward. It's a leadership thing. You see, great leaders find motion and momentum when they lean forward. It's an eye on the future that keeps them and their organizations on point. It's a hard sell for church types, though. We tend to lean backward. You know, that means deceleration.

So, I'm there. It certainly takes all types and most of us are not futurists. Sure, we're gumbo of personality types, gifts, strengths, introverts and extroverts, positives and negatives, weirdos, nerds, fruitcakes, geniuses, airheads, visionaries, deadheads, and people with flat-tops. But, if leaders down the ages, regardless of their natural bent, didn't learn the lessons of leaning forward, we'd still be selling buggy whips, and churning butter on the front porch.

Think about it! Gutenberg leaned forward to envision and invent the printing press. Some ancient dreamer thought up the wheel. If Henry Ford hadn't leaned forward, we'd have missed the assembly line and the industrial revoluton, and cool gadgets like the Uno. Where would we be today if Al Gore hadn't thought outside the box to create the internet? Yuk, yuk.  It's inane to imagine a world without visionaries. The Apostles took the Good News to the Gentiles. Luther defied conventional theological ideas with his 95 theses. So forth and so on.

Yet, for generations church leaders have been mired in the past. The commands to preserve ancient landmarks, perpetuate the Apostles teaching, and secure the things ordained by Christ have been grossly misunderstood. Today, denominations and local churches spend a good bit of spiritual capital and influence worshiping traditions with little significance. It works an seem appropriate because they're leaning back- ward, riveted on the past. 

Solomon wrote some guiding verses about the dynamic tension of past and future. In Eccesiastes he wrote, "Don’t say, "Why were the former days better than these?" For it is not wise of you to ask this" (7:10). Well, I can imagine Solomon was steeped in tradition and had a good eye for the past. He evidently understood leaning forward too. He knew the good old days, you know, the past, were not the best of God. The prophet Isaiah agreed. Through Isaiah God said, "Look, I am about to do something new; even now it is coming. Do you not see it?" (Isa. 43:19). He implied some people would not see it. They were most likely leaning backward.

I'm praying our denominational leaders will study some of the research we constantly gather and use it to look forward, and then lean forward. If we don't the distance between us and a dark world will just grow. 

Lean forward.

Love the Ones You're With

Storm lessons are profound. Most often they are learned in crisis, the indelible marks of tragedy or hardship or test. In my case these lessons are derived in the dark night of the soul. Being a stubborn person, they aren't usually light-bulbs of instant learning. More often than not they involve a hammer and anvil. It's the proverbial classroom of experience. People like me have to taste bitterness to know anything about it.

One lesson from the past year is the one about loving the ones you're with. OK, this isn't a frivilous endorsement of loose morals or the free-love antics of my corhorts back in the sixties. It's actually a lesson from the movie Courageous, the great film from the people at Sherwood Baptist Church, Albany, Georgia. My friend Ed Litton, Pastor of First Baptist Church, North Mobile, Alabama, played the role of Pastor Hunt in the movie. When a child of one of the male characters is killed, Pastor Hunt asked the grieving man if he was going to think more about the years he didn't have with his child, or the years he did have. 

It's not exactly the love the ones your with thing, but that question has lingered in the backwaters of my own grief and prompted a couple of related questions too. It has morphed into something more. Being thankful for the years we loved and knew Brian Holmes has given us a sense of comfort that plays out strongly now. Even more, his death has opened our eyes to the treasure of the people in our lives to this day. We miss Brian. But, God has given us Liz and Scott, John Lewis, and Laura, along with all of our other close family, Katie (Brian's wife) as well. They are still here and central to our lives. The lesson is simple: we must not mourn Brian's loss to the exclusion of our love and care of them.

Today is Elizabeth's birthday. We are so proud of the woman she has become, her strong value system, the way she is devoted to Scott, how she mothers and guides our grandchildren, and the attention she gives us. They all are God's gift, and we celebrate another year of her life. This past year she has been more dear to us than we can say. Today we honor her, and thank God for her life. She and Scott and the babies are precious in His sight and ours.

Contentment is one of those hard virtues. Perhaps it is because we spend too much energy regretting the things we don't have rather than those we do. It is a hair-ball for people suffering from affluenza, the contagion of more. We can't find the fill-mark that says "enough". But, when we inventory the blessings of life, we often discover what we do actually possess. And, that is enough.

Happy Birthday, Liz! We love and appreciate you.