When tragedy strikes, why are we always sideswiped. Death, illness, betrayal, loss — isn’t the surprise, but the journey. The ebb of the flow is the pattern of life. We're born with an instruction manual in our hearts, and we can find one on most any bookshelf—the Word in scripture, but still we lament, "Why me" stupefied at the Divine betrayal, as though we might skirt the tragedies that are certain to come.
Why would we choose to wing it, forego the guidance given to us, forfeit the solace from on High, dismiss the wisdom of our forefathers, spurn the comfort of the Great Comforter Himself. Should we return to the Word bequeathed to us – there is always a single, elegant answer: Love—experienced by peace, given as a gift for just the tiniest mustard seed of faith. Love will smite the fear, ease the unbearable, lull the spirit.
The Word isn’t meant for Sundays and sunny days and white hats only. It’s meant for the trenches, given to the broken, the whisper in the dark. Salvation is not one day when, but now and always, or we should die a thousand deaths before our final breath.
Why do we fasten ourselves to the status quo, when, through the Paraclete we are married to Divinity itself and made to be Saints and slay giants. In Judaism there is a saying, "Disagree with Him, argue with Him, yell at Him – just don’t ignore Him." Better to fight not to the death, but for life.
To give in to despair is to deny gifts given. Should we relinquish our thoughts for His, our will for His, our truth for His, we might find comfort waiting at the door. No amount of writhing will work us out of the pit, but only take us further under. Instead, why not reach for the branch waiting for us?
“Behold, I stand at the door and knock. If anyone hears my voice and opens the door, [then] I will enter his house and dine with him, and he with me." (Rev 3:20)
He’s not talking about a lunch break, He’s talking about supper, a share in the world to come. Aren't our trials designed to open our hearts? Isn't a life of trials paradise if we are not alone in them? And what value has a life of property if it can't gain us entry through the gate?
As long as we’re ever autopsying our individual grief, is there room to receive Him? The truth the way the light the first the last the end and the beginning? Love is given to us, and for an eternity. Faith is ours to win, the reward for the effort, and lost in a blink so that we perpetually work to earn it back again.
We are born to love, yet cannot have it. It is our stumbling block. That we are not worthy is true, but to deny the Almighty’s ability to give His love anyway, despite ourselves, is apostasy at its best. The promise to forfeit sin for life, the promise to love who we would otherwise banish from our hearts, the promise to acknowledge the Almighty (one, אחד, Echad)– is to love Him back.
Just say the Word.
Comments