The Autumn of my Discontent

One of my favorite authors, Anne Lamott, speaks about the value of writing through pain.  So that maybe by doing this, you can crack the door and let a little air into your tired and dusty heart.  Or perhaps to the pessimist (Read: Me), the crack is only large enough for us to raise our head above water and suck in a few breaths before sinking back into our overflowing lives.  I don’t know, I don’t know.  I guess in either case there is some element of relief involved, so the encouragement to write on persists.

My heart is breaking.  I can’t think of another way to say it.  I have a handful of friends who are currently experiencing the darkest times of their lives.  And although I am prone to exaggeration, I (unfortunately) am not exercising that skill when I say this.  These are good people being dragged through the mud.  Their families, marriages, health, and finances are not spared.  I cannot see a reason for it, a greater lesson.

And then others are having the best times of their lives.  Their families are flourishing, the finances flowing.  Since I tend to tow the line of the underdog, this blatant happiness ruffles my feathers.  Like it is thumbing its nose at the less fortunate (Obviously, this isn’t one bit true).  But it does tend to throw things into a stark relief.

Why is it like this?  I really want an answer (Not necessarily from YOU, but more along the lines of an audible from JC).  Why do some suffer and others rejoice?  Glennon Melton, author of “Carry On, Warrior,” sums life up quite nicely: Brutiful.  Brutal and beautiful.  Gorgeous and heartbreaking.

Enter Ecclesiastes.  As in, the book of the Bible.  Our church has been doing a sermon series based on these scriptures, which were most likely written by a very wise king (Solomon) in his old age.  And to be honest, his evaluation of existence is a little bleak.  Solomon uses the word “meaningless” a lot, occasionally several times in the same sentence.  Not exactly a resounding call to arms from a seasoned mentor.  For someone like me though (Meaning: The opposite of a seasoned/wise mentor), it took a little pressure off.  Basically, a super-spiritual-smarty pants is admitting that life sucks sometimes.  That things don’t make sense.  That there doesn’t always seem to be a reason behind it.  This written during a time where (you would assume) things couldn’t possibly be as crap as they are now.  Regardless, here’s his concluding summary from Ecclesiastes 12:13-14 MSG:

“The last and final word is this: Fear God.  Do what He tells you.  And that’s it.  Eventually God will bring everything that we do out into the open and judge it according to its hidden intent, whether it’s good or evil.”

Well, blah.  Thanks Solomon for making things so clear.

You know, I am almost glad he didn’t give a pat answer though.  How could you even begin to tackle all of the world’s inconsistencies and injustices that way?  The short answer is, you couldn’t.  You would be stupid and callous to try.  But the flip side remains: If we solely hone in on life’s struggles, they are ALL we will see.  Guaranteed.  I’m guessing that’s why this wise old guy decided to point to our consistent, loving Savior as where we should focus instead.

But that doesn’t mean I don’t still want answers.  I definitely do.  Says the poster child of "Getting caught-up in everyone else’s sorrow."  The universal messiness.  It weighs me down; the discontent starts to seep into other parts of my brain.  Sympathetic suffering can really put a damper on the ins and outs of our every days.  And that's a win for Satan because he loves to stomp out our joy.  Here’s the deal: I’d rather not let him.

So, the only thing that has slightly managed to kick my discontent in the butt is a extremely simple exercise.  Like second grade simple (Although my kid is in second grade and he had “visualize” as a spelling word last week.  Perhaps not TOO simple then).  Okay, here goes.  Make a “God loves me because….” list.  Seriously.  Coming from a list-fan this *may* sound elementary, but go with it.  Personally, I prefer to have tangible reminders around my house.  Otherwise, my mush brain loses information almost instantaneously.  Why not write it down then and keep it for a rainy day?  In my Monday morning Bible study, we did this activity as a group.  My friend Melinda finished hers first, brought it the next week, and read it aloud.  There wasn’t a dry eye in the place.  It was stunning, how her words whittled the frustrations and exasperation of daily life down to the blessing underneath.  No joke.  I was inspired.

But let me confess this.  Lately, I’ve had these dark notions that our adoption might not work out.  Worst case scenario stuff.  And I’d been thinking, “How would I know that God loved me even then?  Even if we never got to meet our daughter?”  Because these are the questions that haunt me.  So I wrote my list with that in the back of my mind and the answers poured effortlessly out, like water from a spring.

Please don't judge my scrawl/terrible grammar/spelling on my rough drafty list.

Here’s what I was surprised to read: “God loves me because….He gave us a passion and burden for our daughter and for orphans everywhere--just like HE has a burden for them.”  You see, regardless of how our adoption works out, we are wrecked for orphans now.  It’s not just something we say, it is a hallmark of our life.  And I guess I hate that sentiment for the same reason I appreciate it: Our daughter doesn’t necessarily have to be a part of our family for it to be true.  Essentially, I got the answer I was praying for (There’s a good warning about prayer!).  God ruined us in the best possible way.  Now we don’t only have hearts for 1 orphaned girl (although, please Jesus let her come home soon!); God gave us His eyes to see children who need families EVERYWHERE.  That is love Jesus style.

I’d love to wrap this up with a good Solomon summary, but I don’t know if I can be quite so precise.  My hope is that you don’t come away thinking this post sounded phony or uber religious.  In our house, we like calling that a “Jesus juke.”  It’s when you respond to hardship in an overly spiritual way which completely negates someone’s feelings (Entirely made up example- Me: “Ugh, Elijah is misbehaving all the time.  It’s so annoying!”  Other person: “Can you imagine how God feels when WE break his commandments?”  That was SO helpful, said Zero people ever).  I value authenticity, so I pray that is what you’ve heard here.  Life is brutiful, terrible and breathtaking at the same time.  Try to appreciate the little treasures tucked in the messes of your days.  A child reaching to grab your hand, sun breaking through the clouds, a hot cup of coffee.  Or this verse, shoved in the middle of Ecclesiastes, “God has made everything beautiful for its own time.  He has planted eternity in the human heart, but even so, people cannot see the whole scope of God’s work from beginning to end.”  The scope of God’s work is unfathomable to us, which can be entirely frustrating.  But the concept of eternity is unfathomable as well and He’s planted it inside us.  I see that as an invitation.  We’ve been created with an incomprehensible bent in our hearts to seek an incomprehensible God.  I want to understand fully, but I don’t need to understand fully because I could never understand fully.  And for some crazy reason, these inscrutable elements of God give me hope.  Because only HE is already capable of answering the questions I haven't even thought of asking yet.