The Awful Grace of God

He who learns must suffer.

And even in our sleep

pain that cannot forget

falls drop by drop upon the heart,

and in our own despair,

against our will,

comes wisdom to us

by the awful grace of God*.

- Aeschylus

Suffering.

Possibly one of the greatest debates against the existence of a loving God. How could a God who loves us allow us to suffer? How can He allow us to have free will so we can hurt each other?

Aeschylus is suggested to be the first to write about tragedies - Greek tragedies to be precise. Not much survives of his writings and those all focus on a particular kind of suffering...war, death, and grief. And all the stopping points before, in-between, and after.

Which pretty much covers the gamut of the human experience. Bringing us to a question - if Aeschylus is correct, must we suffer in order to learn?

What is to be learned by betrayal, death, violence, abuse, and so on...?

From the human perspective...perhaps we close our hearts & minds to the outside world so we may navigate our emotional state in the midst of our suffering. We rant, scream, cry, get angry, etc...and what does it yield us? Crying is perhaps the only thing that, in the immediate aftermath, leaves us feeling at least somewhat sated and calm.

Until the next wave crashes over us. And the cycle begins again. The seemingly endless circle of sadness, anger, sadness, anger. Eventually we may exhaust ourselves - and our suffering - but at great cost to ourselves. 

From God's perspective...come to me my child, and I will give you rest & solace. Draw closer to me my beloved and enter into a state of grace.

God's perspective sounds so much simpler than the human one, doesn't it? 

Yet as humans how many times do we take that long walk down that spiral of emotions rather than place them at the foot of The Cross, at the feet of God himself?

I know my answer is - hardly ever. I have to be falling apart at the seams, barely able to stand, my heart crying louder than my own voice - for me to even think of approaching the Throne of Grace for comfort.

And yet, when I do, in those moments the purity of God's love for me is palpable, like a hummingbird hovering right next to my ear. The air around me literally vibrates from the pulsing of God's love settling on me. And in that moment of blisteringly white peace...I swear God's breathing becomes my breathing.

He lays me down on a fluffy pillow of faith and stays with me until my heart is calm, my mind is clear.

The only thing that remains - is God. 

*IMO, Aeschylus isn't referring to God's grace as awful - a negative thing - but rather overwhelming one's self in the presence of God. 

I credit another dear friend for the poem from Aeschylus, which inspired this post.

Big...Huge

It is a blah day today. Outside and inside.

Outside it is hot, humid, and stormy. A grey day of clouds, rain, and an exceptional quiet. Broken only by the birdsong and claps of thunder.

Inside it is cool and comfortable, at least physically. Mentally I am a jumble of thoughts and worries. Which is something I struggle with daily - letting go of worries. Big or small, I chew over my worries like a dog with a bone.

Not a happy image for a human.

a.w. tozer

Indeed we do. Or as St. John said in his first book in the New Testament:

"The Lord is greater than whatever is ahead of you and will always guide you through"

...aka God is bigger than the giants we face.

And how true that is. God created it all - heavens, earth, and all in between. And when we consider just the "heavens" - well that encompasses a vast amount...doesn't it.

We all need a reminder from time to time that what we think of a worries - are mere trifles to God. And turning them over to him...makes them trifles to us.

The challenge, at least for me, is to not take them back. I am notorious for doing that - praying, giving it all up to God...then sneaking back under cover of my own darkness and hauling it all back like the baggage it is.

Overburdened. Overpacked. And I am over - it all.

It is time to let go - well & truly. To let God be the greater good that he is - he has the strongest shoulders in the universe (and beyond) and he can handle whatever puny things seem like Goliaths to me.

To think I can handle it - is laughable on any level. I can't, only God can. My ego doesn't allow me to let go at all. Because I continue to believe I have it in me to tough it out; that on some level I deserve this disquiet & discomfort.

God - doesn't want us to feel like this. His love for us is unconditional and nothing could persuade him to allow us to suffer unjustly. (And yes, that is the elephant in every Christian room - just why does a loving God allow us to suffer at all. I have attempted to cover this subject only twice - here.)

Returning to suffering and God. There is no easy answer of course. Perhaps we aren't supposed to find the answer. Perhaps we should do what we know to be true - surrender to God thru prayer. Let him sort out the details. Let him carry the burden.

Oddly it is all, the most omnipotent being of all time, wants from us. The greatest gift to all mankind - prayer & peace.

Joy

Joy - now that word has gotten a bit of a bum rap lately. So let's take it back to basics with a simple definition:

a feeling of great pleasure and happiness

See also - delight, jubilation, triumph, exultation, exuberance, glee...and so on. You get the picture.

Just one more - rejoice.

Now that one - hits today. As this is the third Sunday in Advent, it is also Gaudete Sunday...based on New Testament Scripture. For example:

Rejoice in the Lord always; again I say, rejoice. Let your forbearance be known to all, for the Lord is near at hand; have no anxiety about anything, but in all things, by prayer and supplication, with thanksgiving, let your requests be known to God. - Philippians 4:4-6

Rejoice in the Lord...always.

As mere humans just how do we do that? This can be a rough time of year for people - I know it is for me.

The Holiday Blues are a real thing and they have settled on me like a lead weight.

We all have much to be grateful for; so many blessings if we only stop and let those settle on us.

Air in our lungs. Blue skies. Raindrops. Breezes. Sunrise. Sunset. Beautiful birds. A home. 

Whatever our circumstances those are but a tiny fraction of the blessings we experience daily. Yet...when the sorrows of life surface and descend, how do we find God in those saddest of moments?

(In a fit of cleaning & decluttering recently I unearthed an old Advent devotional from 2014 and it has captured me fully.) According to the Christian author and Vatican Prelate, Robert F. Morneau, in this newly discovered book - "Waiting in Joyful Hope": 

"Despite the slings and arrows of life, God's abiding presence makes visible a joy-filled disposition."

And what can we do to recognize this abiding presence?

Simple.

Prayer.

And I mean that literally - simple prayer. Formal prayers are very nice. They are liturgically "correct", however much that might mean to each of us. 

As Fr. Morneau suggests:

"Prayer is communion and communication with God. In this dialogue we experience a "mutual presence" and share our common joys and sorrows."

He goes on to say that if we... 

"...never cease praying, we enter a frame of mind by which we refer all our thoughts and actions to the indwelling presence of God. ... All is gift; all is grace."

Ceaseless prayer isn't about the form of the prayer. In truth, I believe there are no rules about our prayers, not really. God wants us near to him and we can only achieve that thru prayer.

As I am haunted by all the "what could have beens" and "what should have beens" at this time of year, I need to remember that my joy is found within prayer to God.

He is always there, even if my prayers rant & rave about all the "coulda, woulda, shoulda" of life. And this requires a suspension of ego, the acknowledgment that God is in charge.

Not me. Never have been; never will be.

And if you really think about it, there is a freedom in taking that to your heart. To admit that we humans mess things up, that we suffer the "slings & arrows of life" as part of that human experience.

And God is there - always - waiting to take on those sorrows, those burdens, so we can experience his indwelling...

...and feel the true Joy of the season.

Amen.

Footnote: I love that a Vatican Prelate uses a partial quote from Shakespeare - and Hamlet, no less - to bring home our human-ness:

To be, or not to be: that is the question:
Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer
The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune,
Or to take arms against a sea of troubles,
And by opposing end them? To die: to sleep;
No more; and by a sleep to say we end
The heart-ache and the thousand natural shocks
That flesh is heir to, 'tis a consummation
Devoutly to be wish'd. To die, to sleep;
To sleep: perchance to dream: ay, there's the rub;
For in that sleep of death what dreams may come
When we have shuffled off this mortal coil,
Must give us pause.

As is always the case with Shakespeare, there is so much to unpack there. To place it squarely in the midst of a charge to pray ceaselessly, is simple brilliant.

Tears & Suffering

 

if all you have are tears to cry

the Lord keeps track of all your sorrow

psalm 56:8

Life - moves fast and not always politely. There are days - weeks even - when I feel like I've been run over, repeatedly. Despite all my efforts at setting boundaries with people I still end up worn out in every possible way.

These past few weeks have been such a time and this past week was intensified. It was just - a slog. 

All I wanted to do when I got home from work yesterday was curl up under the covers and cry my heart out. I could feel the dammed up tears threatening to overtop my control all day long.

So home I went - and literally crawled into bed, under the lovely covers, thinking I'd give over to the tears and let the dam break.

It didn't.

Because I prayed for solace, for comfort. I prayed most fervently for relief from the weight of it all. 

And as ever - God was there in the silence, holding my hand and drying my tears before I shed them.

He does that - all day long. And in those times when our tears do overtop us, it's only because we didn't ask God to help in that moment.

I know - the question surely follows - but if he is there all the time why doesn't he always help us to not cry?

And I ask that question myself all the time. There is no easy answer - it is the age-old question of why a munificent God would allow us to suffer at all.

The short answer is - because in those moments God wants us to call out to him, to turn to him, to be drawn into his embrace, and stay there.

The long answer is - I don't have one. It is the oldest & hardest question of faith. 

I think back to my previous writing about spiritual warfare and the presence of satan. For the evil one is always there just waiting - crouched in the shadows - to distract us away from what we know is right.

God - is right. Praying to God - is right. Repentance - is right.

Satan - is wrong. Satan - is never the answer to anything.

So here we are in another spiritual fight. Turning to God - while tears threaten and solace seems unreachable - is the only way to gain these things.

A Testament of Hope

It would be the easy thing, and to an extent the lazy, comfortable thing, to leave this troubled, scandalous, maddening (Catholic) church, but to stay is to consent to suffer along with the Body of Christ, for the sake of every sinner within and without, and in reparation for the sinned against. To share in the burden of the church, rather than run from it in shame or fear is to assist in its continual re-creation, and to be a testament of hope to eventual glory.

-Elizabeth Scalia aka The Anchoress

Shortly after my post last weekend Ms. Scalia posted the above on her Facebook page. I have followed her for many years now. She is a fantastic writer and Catholic apologist.

Her words resonated deeply for me. A reminder that any church is only as strong as its membership. A reminder that, as a Christian, I live in hope. 

And now I retreat again to the deserted place for prayer and thanksgiving,

The Hole

Grief.

It is one of humanity's greatest burdens. In any kind of loss, grief seizes us and holds us fast. It can take many forms - the dreaded "process" - and like a roller coaster we suffer with anger, sadness, depression, shock, and finally - we pray - acceptance. The last of which leads to healing.

And it's not a linear journey, is it? For each of us it is unique and can go back-and-forth; round and round like a carousel with no way to get off.

It is a long process too. Pitfalls await us; they can appear so suddenly that we are at the bottom before we are even aware of what has happened.

Some say grief is the space we hold for the love we can no longer express outwardly. 

I'm not sure I buy into that. To me, grief is the hole left when someone leaves your circle. Depending on the person, the relationship, and the manner of departure, that hole can be a pinprick or a canyon. And healing that hole is part of that journey - no one talks about that part.

How do you heal a hole left when someone leaves you? And it's not just in death that they leave; they can leave in anger, hatred, blame.

When it's anger that prompts a permanent departure - how do you reconcile what you thought you knew with what they reveal about themselves in the manner of their leaving? 

And if we ask God where he was when this was happening to us - how do we open ourselves up to the lessons we could learn if we can navigate our way to acceptance?

I suppose, as Christians, we should take comfort in the many ways God reassures us with his word & promises throughout the Bible. The verse above - written by the ever brilliant, sometimes inscrutable apostle, St. Paul - is one that resonates with me deeply.

Also, this verse has brought me great comfort in years past:

"The Lord is near to the brokenhearted and saves the crushed in spirit" -psalm 34:18

Crushed in spirit - that is me. An old grief resurfaced today and revealed that the part I thought was healed, is not. In fact it will likely never heal over. The hole left behind is that canyon - so wide that when the grief comes in, I am flooded with it. It is a searing pain.

And a circumstance where the apology that should come ... won't ever be offered. I am, once again, navigating my way through my old nemesis - forgiveness - with no acknowledgement from the other person for the wrong.

And...grieving someone who is still alive.

I've grieved the dead and that is no easy thing. Grieving the living - I think it's harder. So much harder. 

They still pursue their interests, their passions; all the things we used to do together. And now - I am alone in those pursuits. The things that bound us together are in tatters. The warp &  weft of our lives is undone.

And years later, when that grief spikes my heart, it brings me back to the center of the departure.

Sudden. Quiet. Skulked away like a coward, a ghost, leaving nothing but pain & unanswered questions in their wake.

And so we are here, in this place. Springboarded back into it suddenly, with no warning signs. Just - BOOM - here we are.

And I'm starting to see it all a little differently. I'm noticing that I really have healed so much from this sad situation. The part of me that was stolen by her - leaving that gaping canyon for years - is the part of me that tolerated her cruelty and bullying over the 25+ years we knew each other. Maybe that hole shouldn't be filled in. Maybe I need to let my life grow in around it, make me stronger, braver.

Because I know now that I would never tolerate that again, from anyone.

My perspective has shifted over the past couple of years and I accept this truth:

The peace I feel without her in my life is  worth being the villain in her story.

My experiences today - with all this popping up unexpectedly - are showing me an area of grief I still need to heal. And instead of fighting it - cuz grief really is so messy - I'm leaning into it and letting God take over for me.

He promises that peace that passes all understanding. And I'm feeling today that maybe that peace is within my grasp. All I have to do is let God in.

Don't we all need to do that?