Thursday, December 9, 2021

Navigating Mysteries, We Don't Like


Like most refrigerator doors, the front of our door is cluttered with all sorts of things.   There are currently family photos, an emission notice from the Motor Vehicle Administration, and various and sundry coupons.  But there are also quotes and inspirational sayings; one from Eugene Peterson has been up on our refrigerator door for years; if I remember correctly, it was first put there when our family was in an unexpected, dark valley.  The quote is simple but striking: "It looks like I'm going to have to let go of what I expected and enter a mystery."   But what's striking is what Robin wrote underneath the quote in pencil, in the depth of our crisis: "what if I don't like the mystery?"  

 

I often find myself in a mystery I don't like.  For example, recently, I officiated at a memorial service for Matt Shultz, a 37-year-old, strapping young man. As I did, I confessed: I don't like it that Matt is no longer with us; he died far too early and far too soon.  I don't like it that Jenn, Matt’s wife, has lost her life partner, chief confidant, and beloved soulmate.  I don’t like it that Wesley and Breanna, Matt’s children, have lost their energetic playmate and daddy.  I don’t like it that Mike, Matt’s brother, has lost his beloved brother and his best friend.  I don't like it that Bernie, Matt’s dad, has now lost not only his precious wife Linda but also a precious son.  It makes no sense.

 

It's essential that we're honest about mystery and the suffering that often accompanies it. Remember Jesus in the Garden of Gethsemane (Matthew 26:36-56)?  Why, Jesus anguished all night, sweating drops of blood, brutally honest to God as He contemplated the suffering before Him.  Just as Jesus was brutally honest about His suffering, we must be brutally honest about our suffering, realizing that anguish is an expected part of reckoning with the mystery of God. 

 

But beyond being honest, saying: “I don’t like it,” “it makes no sense,” is there any more we can say?  There is.  We can speak not only of the mystery of God but also the certainty of God; the two are always in tension. And so, yes, be perfectly candid about the mystery of “no sense” suffering.  But also, be honest about the God that is certain, nevertheless; the God who is: faithful and true; merciful, redemptive, and healing, speaking conviction into the mystery of life. 

 

A first certainty is this: Legacy Is More Than We See.  When suffering and loss come, often conclude life has diminished, and with it diminished significance and  legacy.  But Biblically legacy is not a matter of outer hardiness, but heart and spiritual content.  As Paul underscores in 2 Corinthians 4: "...Even if our physical body is wearing away, our inner person is being renewed day by day. For our...suffering is producing for us an eternal weight of glory far beyond all comparison -- because we are not looking at what can be seen but at what cannot be seen. For what can be seen is temporary, but what cannot be seen is eternal."  (2 Corinthians 4:16-18, NET, emphasis added)


Matt Shultz died young, a mere 37 years of age. Thus, one might conclude his legacy is diminished by an "outward" lack of years. Not so. As I remarked at his memorial service, Matt’s lack of years does not equate a lack of significance.  We forget, some of the most notable figures in human history died young.  Why, Martin Luther King, the famed Civil Rights leader, died at age 39 – Lou Gehrig, the dynamic American baseball player, died at age 37 -- Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart, the versatile French composer, died at age 35 -- Princess Diana, the beloved British royal, died at age 36 – and Jesus Christ, the Lord, and Savior of the World, died at age 33. It's vital to note how the Gospel writer John reflected on Jesus's "short" life.  After writing 21 carefully crafted chapters on the significance of Jesus, John concludes his Gospel by saying: "There are many other things that Jesus did. If every one of them were written down, I suppose the whole world would not have room for the books that would be written.”  (John 21:25, NET).  

 

The take-away: a life full of impact and legacy is not dependent on a human equation or measurement; Jesus certainly didn't "measure up," living an unconventional/countercultural life. But as God reminds us in 1 Samuel 16:7 -- “God does not view things the way people do.  People look on the outward appearance, but the Lord looks at the heart.” (1 Samuel 16:7, NET).  Applying this text to Matt, I described him as a young man, with a big heart:  living big, working big, serving big, smiling big, loving big.  I concluded:  this is Matt's legacy, and it's not diminished by his short span of years.

And so, as we remember the suffering and loss of a colleague, loved one or friend, it’s crucial that we not focus on outward appearance (e.g., span of years, status, ability/disability, resume, wealth, or other aspects of a human equation), but on their heart and soul.  For "...even if our physical body is wearing away, our inner person is being renewed day by day." (2 Corinthians 4:16, NET).  That’s our true legacy, and I’m here to tell you, it’s not diminished by the absence of conventional, outward achievement or measurement.

 

Next, God's certainty tells us, Nothing Is Ever Wasted.  At first blush, we might assume that what we dislike, including suffering, has no use.  But quite the contrary, God employs all of life to advance His life, wasting nothing, utilizing the good and the bad and the ugly. The classic text is Romans 8:28, as the Apostle Paul reminds us: “... we know that to those who love God, who are called according to his plan, everything that happens fits into a pattern for good.” (Romans 8:28, Phillips).  


Paul is not saying that everything that happens to us is good; that's unrealistic, pollyannish, minimizing sufferings raw reality and depth of pain.  But Paul says that everything that happens to us can fit into a pattern for good, even ragged, rough, heavy life-moments.  

As the story goes, a pastor returned to his pulpit just ten days after his young son committed suicide.  Coincidentally the text for that Sunday was Romans 8:28. Not surprisingly, the pastor struggled to preach the text.  And so, he confessed: “This is difficult.  But the miracle of the shipyard helps.  Think about it,” the pastor continued.  “Much of an ocean-going vessel is made of steel. 

 

Why take anyone part, a piece of the hull, a large rudder, and throw it into the ocean and it sinks; steel doesn't float! But take any part and let the shipbuilder fit it together, and those same steel pieces become a steel ship that floats and goes somewhere.  

So, it is with my son’s death.  Taken by itself, it’s heavy, unwieldy, senseless, unbearable.  Frankly, it sinks!  But as I allow God the master shipbuilder, to fit it into His pattern and plan, I float and go somewhere, someday.”  Matt’s death is heavy, and we’re sinking.  But we too will float and go somewhere, someday, if we focus not just on the weight of it all, but the God of it all, the Master Shipbuilder, who wants to fit even this heavy, life-part into a pattern for good.  

For despite this heavy suffering, God’s certainty tells us, Life Moves On, Abundantly, Eternally. It’s tempting to allow mystery to stimy and immobilize us.  But God fits heavy, life-parts into a life-ship that’s going somewhere.  Oh, the building and progression of the life-ship will take time, and at moments it will be slow.  But be assured, it is moving toward a life that's abundant and eternal.  For as God promises in Jeremiah 29:11, despite this heavy, suffering season, "...Surely, I know the plans I have for you...plans for your welfare and not for harm, to give you a future with hope.” (Jeremiah 29:11, NRSV).   This truth is essential for all of us but especially important for those suffering now; given the intensity of suffering’s pain, it's tough to feel hope and not believe life is over. But God is speaking with certainty, even in pain: life is not over.  Despite the mystery and suffering of life, surely, surely, I know the plans I have you, plans for your welfare and not for harm, to give you a future with hope! 

 

But such a future is not just a future here on earth, but a future forever and ever, for eternity. It’s ironic: though a departed colleague, friend, or loved one cannot be seen physically, they are, nevertheless, truly alive, in Christ; now, they are more alive with Jesus than they ever were on earth!  For the words of the poster child of mystery and suffering, Job, the Old Testament character, now pour from your departed colleague’s, friend’s, loved one’s lips: “I know that my redeemer lives, and...that after my skin has been destroyed, yet...I will see God” (Job 19:25-26, NIV).  

 

I pray that each of us will see God!  I pray that we will bond with the Creator through Christ, coming alive today and living forever.  That's the only way we truly have significance, beyond outward appearances and a span of years. That's the only way we truly find that life finally fits together and floats, despite the heaviness of our days.  That’s the only way we truly experience a future with hope. 
 
Let’s be candid:  there’s not much to like about the mystery and suffering of life.  But the tension between God’s mystery and God’s certainty persists, for the conviction of God will not go away!  God's compassionate reality keeps coming closer and closer in the darkest hours.  It will take a while, perhaps quite a while, but I pray that in God’s good time, we’ll claim the clarity of the Creator, along with the conviction, that even amid life’s pain: God is Faithful and True -- God is Merciful, Redemptive and Healing! 

1 comment:

  1. Good stuff, Paul. God is in the work of redeeming..and that includes the really sad and bad stuff. Marla

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