Devotion for February 1

…for God did not give us a spirit of cowardice, but rather a spirit of power and of love and of self-discipline. 2 Timothy 1:7

I returned from Florida to learn that two young men from a local Middle School had taken their own lives. Upon hearing that news my heart sank. First I wondered why no one had seen or heard anything that had indicated these two seemingly well-liked and capable young men were preparing to take their lives. Then I grieved for their parents, families and friends. I couldn’t help but think of all the potential these two young people had squandered. Of course, they were in no position to know that, but I couldn’t help but wonder why no one had told them. Suicide is the final answer to our personal and relational issues from which there is no return. I wish someone had communicated that to them.

I think we in the Church need to do that. I love what St. Paul says in this portion of the pastoral letter we call 2 Timothy. Our calling is not to be timid but to exercise the Spirit of power and love with discipline.

Recently a grandmother came into our offices and tried to get our Minister to Youth and Young Adults to give in on some of the expectations of our Confirmation program. I’m afraid, in the name of love, I told our staff member that we’d stand firm until that young person was willing to come and visit with me personally. Here is a young person who may be receiving mixed messages from those who love them. On the one hand, they honestly care about them. On the other hand, they are not expecting any self-discipline in this regard. I’m worried that the young person’s inner turmoil is not being directed by faith and curbed by self-discipline. Self-discipline is never something we choose for ourselves. It is the result of clear expectations, learned over time and, finally, integrated into our decision process.

Let me be clear: I have no indication that this young person is suicidal. But I worry that he/she will learn to make excuses instead of deal with the harsh issues and expectations of life. St. Paul expects Timothy, his son in the faith, to know the power that is his, the love that supports him and bring them together in self-discipline. Not a bad formula for keeping hope alive and facing down the demon of depression.

Devotion for November 2

With joy you will draw water from the wells of salvation… Isaiah 12:3

When I was a child staying the summer on my grandparents’ farm, I used to love to go to the well and, first priming the pump, pump until the cold water would come gushing out. We usually put it in a metal pail and, in the heat of the summer, that pail would sweat beads of water. Even before I took that pail of water to the house, I would ladle a tin cup for myself. On hot, humid days in Iowa, that water was so refreshing that I couldn’t imagine anything would taste as good.           

At St. Mark we have recently been refreshed by the wells of salvation. We have had three funerals in two weeks. This is not typical of our ministry. Nevertheless, over and over again we were drawn to the promises of God in Jesus Christ – specifically, the promise of eternal life. Again and again we would be comforted and refreshed as scripture was read and the promises of God declared. The Gospel was like drinking from that well as a child.

There is a dryness to grief. Oh, I know that tears often flow. But in the human heart, grief is often dry. We experience grief like the dry leaves blown about by the wind. We cannot control our feelings any more than the leaves can control the direction the wind carries them. And there is an arid quality to life when grief touches us deeply. Our hearts dry up and we thirst for hope.

Into this deserted place we call loss, our Savior comes and says, “Welcome to the wells of salvation. Here you can drink and be filled. Here eternal love will satisfy the thirst of your soul.”

To be a Christian is to know the assurance of God’s promise that we shall live though we die; that we shall be received into heaven and be reunited with those who have gone before us. These are the wells of salvation of which the prophet writes – and they are possible through the Risen Savior, Jesus Christ.

Amen

Devotion for September 14

Come to me… and I will give you rest. Matthew 11:28

The front page of the Des Moines Register on the day after the tenth anniversary of 9/11 was startling. Rarely have I seen a picture that I immediately thought, “This ought to win a Pulitzer Prize.” This one elicited that response. If you haven’t seen it, it is of a father kneeling before the 9/11 memorial, head down on the slab, one arm outstretched and the other holding the memorial – perhaps pointing to the name of his son, lost on that tragic day.

I immediately thought two things: first, how profound this portrait of grief was; second, how grateful that I have not lost a child. Both were born, not out of intellect, but out of that place in the human soul where we experience deep connections to one another and face our worst fears. If I close my eyes, I can still see that photograph with absolute clarity. Ten years later, the loss still vivid in his posture; his grief silently communicated to the world.

I wonder if God felt that way at the death of his son, Jesus? I know it’s a bit of human projection, but I find comfort in the thought that, just perhaps, God did. I believe that God groans at the expensive spiritual cost of such a tragedy and loss. The comfort promised by the Savior in Matthew’s Gospel somehow seems much nearer and more accessible when I think that God grieves over such mindless evil and unnecessary pain.

And I want to reach out; to kneel with him in silence and help carry the burden. But I can’t. I don’t know him, though I have met him in so many others who have experienced great loss. So, I count my blessings, pray for him and so many others whose pain in grief is laid bare, and then I promise to be with others whenever I can to share the burden, penetrate the loneliness and, by God’s grace, share some bit of comfort.

It has been said that “Christ has no hands or feet but ours.” I believe that is true. Sometimes, however, it is more important to be Christ’s presence and heart because there are times we cannot do anything else… or, should I say, anything more?

Devotion for August 11

Therefore, since we are justified by faith, we have peace with God… Romans 5:1

His grief has been enormous. He lost his beloved wife suddenly and without warning. Neither of them could have known that there had been a blood vessel in her brain from birth that was ready to burst. She had lived fully – even been an athlete in school. She had children, laughed and shared friendship and love with her family and neighbors.  She participated in the church – her faith strong and vibrant. On that night, they had retired to bed after another normal day – but he woke up in the middle of the night to find her already gone.

The enormity of his grief led him, naturally, to anger at God. The usual questions filled his mind and then seeped into his heart: How could God take her from him and his children so suddenly, so irrevocably? What kind of God could allow such things to happen?

Because he could not find satisfactory answers, he could not trust God. Because he couldn’t trust God with his tragedy, he had no peace with God. And because he had no peace with God and grew tired of the energy this spiritual warfare exacted, he denied God’s existence. In the absence of a God with whom he could be at peace, he chose no god at all.

St. Paul tells us that trust in God (which is what faith is) brings peace with God. He doesn’t assume that all people are at peace with God; his vision of life includes those like my friend. And there are no easy answers for tragedies like his, are there? The peace of our faith elects, in such circumstances, to dare the unknowing and trust that God laid a loving hand on her heart and ushered her into eternity. Faith ventures into the uncharted territory of God’s grieving heart – and claims that God is at work to bring life and love together again.

Today, I wish for you such unconquerable faith… and the peace it brings.