Building Character

Let us also glory in our sufferings, because we know that suffering produces perseverance; perseverance, character; and character, hope. 

--Romans 5:3b-4

It has been another long week in this country. 

Last Thursday I had breakfast with my "boss" and he said, "Well, what do you suppose will happen this week that will need to be reflected on in worship?" Ugh. Who knew we would be staring in the face of such horrible devastation as has occurred in Moore, Oklahoma, following those strong tornadoes?

And then along comes this week's epistle passage from the lectionary, Romans 5:1-5. Paul's words about how we should respond in the face of suffering.

It's awfully hard sometimes, isn't it? To glory in suffering, whether our own or that of distant strangers? How do we respond to well-meaning folks who earnestly remind us that "God never gives us more than we can handle"?

I don't know if that's true or not. But I do know that sometimes it sure feels like God has given me a double helping when I really would just as soon take a pass.

Here's what I think, for what it is worth.

I think-- no, I know sometimes there is nothing worth saying when tragedy strikes. And that includes quoting Scripture. Sometimes, no matter how well-intentioned, a verse from the Bible really only serves to deepen the pain, because it's just so very hard to see how God might be at work in the moment.

For instance, with these tornadoes, or the recent shootings or bombings. I heard people say that they prayed so hard for their child to be found alive, and was so grateful when God answered their prayers. How do we explain the implication that someone else must not have prayed long enough/ hard enough/ faithfully enough, because their child wasn't spared?

Tough, tough questions. And if you are looking for my pat, easy answer-- I haven't got one. (And overall, I have a pretty decent handle on prayer. Sort of. Right now, anyway.) 

In our moments of deep pain and anguish, sometimes there is simply nothing worth saying. Silence together, weeping together-- an appropriate choice, indeed. And a willingness to admit: I Just. Don't. Know.

But as we begin to pull away a bit from the intensity of the moment, then these verses can take on a different hue. A neighbor offers to help with the cleanup. Someone we never met offers us dinner at a local pub. 

As we begin once more to put one foot in front of the other and allow our lives to inch forward, we can begin to see ways in which God's presence is carrying us. Simple kindnesses, in unexpected places, give us the "lift" we need.

Whether we respond by giving up or by lifting our eyes and moving our feet is, indeed, an indication of the nature of our character.

We are created in the Divine image of one whose very nature is Love. And we are called to be that love in the world.

It can be so, so hard. But it is so, so necessary.

One step at a time. One new day at a time. Sometimes-- one moment at a time. 

Just do the next thing. 

And over time, things become easier. And we begin to feel a lightness in our hearts. Hope, even. 

Not right away. And sometimes it can seem imperceptibly slow in coming.

And it is seldom something we consciously can do a single thing to hasten or promote.

No secret recipes. No magic wands. Just time. And one day we realize: The joy is back. Different, but returned.

I think that's what Paul was trying to get at here. And I think that is where we as a nation will be finding ourselves over the next weeks. And months.

And years. Each at his (or her) own pace.

And so we soldier on. But the good news?

We soldier on together. And when we are ready to look again, we encounter a stranger, someone we may not recognize right away, like the two on their way to Emmaus. 

Someone who becomes God with skin on, there for you. We never journey alone, even when it sure feels like it. Thanks be to God.

Most gracious, ever-faithful One, show us. Show us the way we are called to be you, in this place, that we might be aware that we are not alone. Amen

Getting on track

Amazed and perplexed, they asked one another, “What does this mean?” --Acts 2:12

Goodness. It's been a long time since I posted anything. That needs to change. So-- at least for now-- I am going to try to blog on a lectionary passage each week. I need the discipline, and the lectionary is a good tool for that.

Just to level the playing field a bit, in case the L-word is unfamiliar to you? The lectionary, in short definition, is a tool which, over the course of three years, accesses the vast majority of the Bible. (As a Protestant, I am familiar with the Revised Common Lectionary, or RCL.) 

Each week, the RCL offers four suggested passages, typically (but not always) one from the Old Testament, one from Psalms, one from the Gospels and one from the epistles.

The biggest advantage to preaching the RCL is that it narrows a preacher's choices. It also discourages one from frequently returning to "favorite" passages and neglecting other, more challenging portions of Scripture.

The downside, arguably, is that it potentially hinders the freedom of the Holy Spirit. (Then again-- could not the Spirit guide the preacher and speak through the chosen RCL passage?)

Wake up! It's not that bad, really. 

And somehow, this all relates a bit to this week's RCL passage from Acts, the story of Pentecost, when the Holy Spirit arrived and allowed everyone to understand everyone else, no matter what language they were speaking. Each person heard the other in their native language.

Using the RCL as a guide means that wherever you attend church this Sunday, if the preacher follows the RCL, it's likely you will hear a sermon based on the same passage. And that can be a terrific experience, since the direction the preacher takes might be completely different in another pulpit or another denomination. 

And a skillful preacher will manage to preach a message that is not only scriptural, but relevant, proving week after week that the Bible is not a dusty old book no longer worthy of reading. Rather, it is alive, lively and relevant-- if we have eyes to see, ears to hear and a desiring heart.

So. This may not be the most interesting post ever, but this is my commitment to getting back on track. Hope you are still with me.

Ever-wise, ever-faithful God, thank you for guiding our hearts-- and for discipline. We need it. We really do. Amen.