Rejoice in the Lord always. I will say it again: Rejoice! Let your gentleness be evident to all. The Lord is near. Do not be anxious about anything, but in everything, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God. And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.
Finally, brothers, whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable—if anything is excellent or praiseworthy—think about such things. . . .
And the God of peace will be with you. --Philippians 4:4-9
Well, we got it, didn't we. A week ago I was blogging about the necessity, often skimmed over, of walking through the darkness before we run straight to the Light of the World, lying in a manger. I suggested that we need to sit with the mothers whose young sons were slaughtered by an arrogant king seeking to eliminate the newborn Messiah, a threat to his kingdom. (See my previous post, The Story BeforeThe Story.)
And a few days later, we were given cause to mourn, to truly, deeply commiserate with these mothers in their pain and loss, as children in Connecticut were senselessly slaughtered. As we were but days before the third Sunday in Advent, the Sunday with the rose-colored candle, the Sunday that evokes us to rejoice-- Gaudete-- we are knocked to our knees, left breathless by the scope of this tragedy.
We got our reason to mourn, and we got it in spades.
Much discussion has followed, some of it helpful and good. Maybe this will be a tipping point, an event that leads us to truly begin to listen to one another. I pray it will be so.
In the meantime-- it is Advent. Christians are anticipating the hope and promise found at the birth of the Christ child.
That hasn't changed.
And God has not changed.
God remains eternally faithful.
God remains omnipresent-- present everywhere.
God remains intimately involved in each of our lives, and God weeps with us as we mourn.
I am not going to try to offer explanations. I don't have any. A desperate man-child found life so lacking in love and hope that he took steps he believed were the only way out of the pain. And he chose, unfortunately, to take others with him-- an entire nation, in fact, has been caught up in the tragic fallout.
But I do know this: God is love. The very essence of that Being whom I know in the very core of my soul-- is Love. Loved us-- still loves us enough to have left the glory and majesty of heaven to take on flesh and dwell in our midst.
That. Has. Not. Changed.
So let us try, in these next days (and always) to rediscover the joy to be found in living the life God has so generously offered each one of us. And the best way to do this, I believe, is to remember that we are, each one of us, created in the image and likeness of God (Genesis 1:27).
Which leads, very simply and directly, to the greatest commandments: Love God, and love your neighbor as yourself.
God is love. We contain the Imago Dei, the image of God, in the DNA of our souls.
Let it show.
Smile at the person in line behind you. Hold the door. Offer to help.
Random acts of kindness were never needed more than they are right now, today.
God is counting on us to overcome this momentary setback, this "time out" from the joy of the season of new birth and renewed hope.
Our grief is real. Our loss is genuine. But do not be long from the path of living.
Loving, eternal God, we lift our eyes, that you might dry our tears. Lead us, Lord, into the next day. Let us lean fully and trustingly on your wisdom and promise. Amen
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