Heavy times...

The previous post was part of an essay I wrote last year. It came about as a result of several months of serving as a hospital chaplain and two classes I was taking at the time - Prophets and Theology of Ministry. I don't really think that the essay provides any clear answers, and the depth and profundity that I felt while writing it (and feel now, rereading and posting it) may well only exist in my own mind - a result of the life experiences and study that I have been through. Perhaps, lacking the same experiences and study one might not be able to connect to it, I don't know.

But I do know this: I spent ten months meeting others in the midst of their pain and suffering; hearing mothers ask me if God was punishing her son, who had just been the driver in a car accident in which a passenger died, for her sins; wondering why the wicked prosper and the just suffer; of cognitively trying to understand the relationships between faithful obedience and blessing as well as sinful disobedience and curses. The essay is my attempt to work through this.

I also know this: these words ring true to me, even now, in the midst of my own struggling. The last day has been ugly. What other way is there to say it? My wife almost died yesterday, and the baby we didn't know we had did die. In short, we had an ectopic pregnancy. There isn't enough room or time for a long version. My wife is doing well now. Hopefully she'll come home from the hospital tomorrow. Peter's been at home the whole time playing with various ladies from the church. I don't even think he's noticed that we've not been around much.

But there is a persistent ache right now, and a feeling that there is something out there that is threatening to overwhelm and consume me. I think my wife feels the same thing, but is too worn out and drugged to worry about it much. So I smile and nod and do my best not to think about what almost happened and what did happen. At least I won't be consumed by that thing out there that way...

...but I wonder, am I missing Jesus in doing so?

Is that a price I am willing to pay to avoid hurting?

Is that to show the trust I spoke of at the end of that essay?

Those are rhetorical questions, by the way. I need to answer them... you don't.

God bless.