What is it about tragedy and the holidays? Death, illness at "the most wonderful time of the year"?
Death is always knocking. The door is bound to open, ushering in gusts and blows of pain and loss--sudden, unsuspecting, gruesome and gut-punching--sometimes a welcomed relief to the suffering--but still, death is loss and loss can be nauseating in any circumstance..
I do not live my life wandering in the valley of the shadow of death, but I do, unavoidably, live in a broken world that unabashedly hurls bowling balls of pain, meanness, senseless violence -- whether accidental, sudden or foreshadowing, hurt hurts.
We are mortal beings created with the intent that our immortal spirits thrive long after life on Earth. The significance of and belief in immortality is uniquely individual -- shaped, framed environmentally, inherently, conditionally --
I am a believer of life after death.
I am a hopeful person.
I am confident of God's love for every single sinner.
I am undoubtedly sure that God created us unconditionally as His beloved.
How, though, does one who believes in a God of love survive the tragedy of loss?
Why does He allow gut-wrenching pain?
Excruciating, untimely illness?
Pain-riddled, unforgivable acts of violence?
Heartbreaking, unnecessary powers of selfish acts?
I know God does not cause the pain. I know that God can stop it, prevent it, heal it, restore it. I also know that our world is fallen, and as long as sin remains, so will pain.
Life was not supposed to be this way, but, in the springtime of creation, humankind chose the sensual allure of knowledge over the lovely peace and assurance of God's love and ability to provide.
We wanted more.
We picked self over love.
In the age of today, pain runs rampant like runaway wildfires, scorching the tender landscape of humanity.
I don't know how better to express the heartache that I feel for my brothers and sisters who have and are walking through hell on earth than to say that I am fucking sick of it. Does the word "fuck" turn your stomach? It does mine, and that's why it so adequately expresses the feeling of the unwelcome nauseous pit that hits me unawares and far too often lately.
In my own life I have suffered. Hurt, pain and loss are not unfamiliar to me. I’ve walked through boobytrapped doors carefully laden with buckets of gasoline. I've been doused and set unsuspectingly aflame. No one wants to writhe in that explosion, suffer the burning or blister in the scathing flame of loss.
These fires make me angry, and
I can be mad if I want to.
I can scream at the God I love and ask why.
I can tell him how unfair all of this is.
I can beg him to expel the sin that so encumbers us.
I can shake my fist at Him and know that He is listening to me with compassion.
I can ask him to restore life to its intended framework ... God+humankind, walking hand-in-hand in the garden, at peace and devoid of the fall.
I have asked him.
I have been on my knees, stretched prostrate in my closet,
I have kicked, yelled, cursed and cried until there was no breath left in my lungs or sound in my voice.
Anxiety has pummeled me in the gut, pounding me to the ground.
Panic has frozen me in fetal position on the cold tiles of my bathroom floor.
I am not fatalistic.
I'm not one to be consumed with worry.
Nor, do I forecast, imagine or project negativity.
Generally, I am "glass half full."
Today, I'm not "glass half full" nor am I "glass half empty".
I am hurling every crystal glass against the marble surround of my fireplace.
I am numbing myself to the sound of it shattering on the floor, littering it with shards of glass that beg to be trod upon...
Perhaps walking barefoot on broken glass will shift this gut-wrenching and heart-stopping pain to bleeding wounds, easily bandaged, treated with Tylenol and healed in no time.
Today, my glass is neither full nor empty. In fact, there are no glasses left.
Why?
I am mourning for my friends.
I'm crying.
I'm shouting damn this unwelcome, shitty-sided slice of the human condition
I don't need a lesson on pain. I know that one.
I don't need to be told or reminded, "no pain. no gain."
I know that we have to go through the valleys to get to the mountain top.
I know that growth comes from pain;
I know that there is no light without darkness.
I know that healing takes time.
I understand that when we are weak, He is strong.
I understand the truth of woundedness birthing strength with time.
Don't tell me about this today.
I'm going to stay sad and angry for a while.
It's okay.
It's necessary... as necessary and significant to the healing process as anything.
God did not create us to act like robots.
The feminine and mothering part of him birthed us from dust
Drew us out of the rib of another.
Breathed breath into our lungs.
He gave us paradise because he wanted us...
He wanted companionship... beings with feelings, thoughts, wonder, personality and creativity
We were not created to walk in silence.
From the beginning, we were given voices, feelings
God longs for us to express our feelings.
He can take it -- good, bad, ugly
He understands that I'm "up-to-here" with fiery anger.
I can't contain it.
My life depends on expressing it
Oh that evil could be frozen and melted away
Oh that tragedy, loss and pain did not exist
I need room to breathe.
My breaths are shallow, often held.
My hurting friends need a break.
I need a break.
You need a break.
Enough is enough.
Let it be finished... may our hearts
harbor hope in our hearts
let us know that we were born of hope
and we are created to live with hope.
We need comfort.
We need a Peace that we cannot employ ourselves.
You must deliver us.
Come Lord Jesus. Come.