"Hopes like Summer Roses"

Red Herring: Joy

Even though this post joins the company of a Katherine Heigl movie and a Nora Roberts novel in my gaggle of distractions from stress and a backpack full of papers to grade, it came upon me in one of the happiest times of my life.

My brother has safely returned from Afghanistan. I get to see my nephew more than ever. I am surrounded by family and friends that gift me smiles and laughter and support. I work at a fantastic school where my students make me laugh and my coworkers keep me sane. I'm exploring fast-approaching options for graduate school and seminary, and as a forever-student, this thrills me. I'll even throw in the fact that the Gamecocks are in the national title conversation as a source of joy because anyone who follows my Facebook would guess that is the one and only thing that occupies my thoughts.  On top of all of this, I was fortunate, about one year ago, to cross paths with a man who has shown me a new kind of happiness, one that I hope to explore for many more years.

The Real Issue at Hand: Grief

Despite this sap-saturated introduction, this post will not be about the joy I find myself surrounded in today. Instead, I sit down on this beautiful fall day to write about grief.

I imagine this post will not be as poignant as the poems I wrote in the midst of losing one of my best friends to cancer. However, now that grief has had several months to soften, I can write about it with a clearer head.  The agony I felt when Lee left this world will never fully fade-- even though I can remember him and smile because of his humor, his pure-heart, his eternal optimism... I will also always miss him and imagine the wonderful experiences he would have had in this life. The beauty here is that I am certain Lee has found the Kingdom of God, and there, peace and joy and the comfort denied him in his final days. As wonderful as this world is, it pales in comparison to the world that is breaking in, the world that Lee resides in now. Here I find comfort.

When my grief was its most raw, though, I did not find comfort in spiritual thoughts. In fact, I avoided church services even more than I had before Lee's death. (That is perhaps a topic for another post or two or three... despite my love and curiosity for God, I have lately not been a regular church attendee.) But many, I imagine, who might have been concerned or at least curious about my drop in attendance, must have been certain that after such a jarring tragedy, I would seek comfort in the arms of the church.

(I argue that I did just that, seeking comfort in the arms of people that I love, who loved Lee, who love God even if it wasn't during a service, but I'll get off-topic.)

Why is it that during times of crushing grief, I and so many others have fled walls of the church, running from the sound of hymns and praise songs, avoiding sermons and the many acquaintances who would offer their comfort and condolences? I see my brother doing the same, now that he has returned from Afghanistan followed by the memories of his injured and fallen comrades. And Lee's father, a long-time mentor and a surrogate father to me, shared that "since Lee's death, one of the hardest places for [him] to be is in worship."

That was absolutely true for me, especially in the weeks immediately following Lee's death, and it still isn't easy. Again... why?

Like any respectable amateur blogger (or someone who's mind always tends to wander at inopportune times), I have a few theories to offer, parts of which I attribute to my mentors and community at the summer camp I work at, and parts of which stem simply from my own mind, recently riddled with the anguish of losing a friend.

Theory 1: Stage of Grief

As traditionally taught, many people experience grief in 5 stages, in varying degrees and orders.

1. Denial
2. Anger
3. Bargaining
4. Depressed
5. Acceptance

In my own experience, attending Lee's funeral was perhaps the worst moment of my entire life. 99% of the reason for that was dealing with my friend's death... the remainder had very much to do with the setting that surrounded me. His funeral was held in his church--appropriate, as he gave and found so much joy there. But surrounded by the concrete symbols of religion and listening to praise songs literally turned my stomach that day.

I remember singing, "How Great is our God." Well, correction... I remember staring straight ahead, jaw set in fury, tears streaming down my face, as others around me sang. The words caught in my throat-- I was afraid if I opened my mouth, I would scream or vomit or curse or weep even more.

As an English teacher, self-proclaimed literary snob, trained close-reader, and instinctive deconstructionist, I could give you more rational, word-based reasons why that song is not one of my favorites. But, it was one of Lee's, a song that he loved and leaned on. But that day, it made me sick with fury. If God's power was so great, why had Lee died? 

Therein lies my first theory: the grieving avoid church because attending forces them to confront a God who has disappointed them, a God who feels absent, even uncaring in the midst of their agony. That funeral service found me in an odd mixture of the 2nd and 4th stage of grief, and I was not ready to face God.

Theory 2: Songs, Speeches, and Sermons

In my second theory, I get to give you that more rational, word-based explanation of why I am not fond of "How Great is Our God" and many other songs by Tomlin and the Passion-fueled Reformed CCM sector.

It wasn't just my confrontation with God that made me itch to flee that church service and the few others I attended after Lee's death; it was also the liturgy I found there that drove me away.

Take a few stanzas of "How Great" for an example.

The splendor of a King, clothed in majesty
Let all the earth rejoice
All the earth rejoice

Rejoice? Honestly? I felt absolutely no joy on that day. My memories of Lee made losing him that much more painful, and I did not want to rejoice-- I wanted to weep, to grieve.

He wraps himself in Light, and darkness tries to hideAnd trembles at His voiceTrembles at His voice

Not only is the idea of God (male pronoun God, of course) wrapping Himself in light vague and strange... my darkness did not hide or flee or even withdraw slightly that day. And hearing about it fueled my anger.

Age to age He standsAnd time is in His handsBeginning and the endBeginning and the end

This verse was perhaps the worst for me... Time is in the hands of God, and God allowed Lee's to run out. For someone absolutely drowning in sorrow... these were not the lyrics I could sing. And of course, my initial question remains: If God's power was so great, why had my friend died?

Music is not the only element a grieving person might fight unsatisfactory in the average liturgy. On an average day, sermons are not about grief or hopelessness or being so furious with God that you want to vomit. So, someone like myself exploring church services again after a loss will listen to the message about a text or about how to live well and feel a) isolated or even abnormal (is no one else angry or sad? does anyone else feel like God is far away?) or b) frustrated by the emphasis put on topics that seem irrelevant through the eyes of grief. (How can I be a good Christian when I am busy being disappointed in Christ and feel like I can't tell anyone I feel that way?)

And finally, perhaps something that cannot be changed, and something I wondered about in a post about death many months ago, before Lee's relapse. What words can anyone possibly have to offer someone in the throws of grief that really mean anything, that really give any comfort? Church services are filled with people with the best of intentions, but the words often offered to the grieving are cliche and unhelpful.

"I am so sorry for your loss." (Yeah? So am I. No need for you to apologize.)

"He's in a better place now." (That may be true, but I still miss him and I don't feel better.)

"God is in control." (Exactly. That is why I am angry.)

Hence--- songs, speeches, and sermons may keep people away from church after experiencing a loss.

What, you may ask, do I propose as an alternative? 

I am no song-writer, but I know one thing-- I need churches to sing songs about emotions other than joy and praise. Sadly and for most of humanity, it is not the emotion that fills most of our lives most of the time. So when I am never allowed to sing about anger or doubt or hurt, it makes me wonder if feeling these things is ungodly. When I was at Lee's funeral, I did not want to sing about joy; I wanted to sing a song to God that touched on how I was feeling.

My boss and mentor shared a song that I think offers a much more genuine worship venue for the grieving. 

A few lyrics... 

"O heart bereaved and lonely,
Whose brightest dreams have fled
Whose hopes like summer roses,
Are withered crushed and dead
Though link by link be broken,
And tears unseen may fall
Look up amid thy sorrow,
To Him who knows it all"

How much more similar to how I felt! Bereaved and lonely, my hopes like dead summer roses. This was a song I could have sung with honesty.

Oh watch and wait with patience
and question all you will.
His arms of love and mercy,
are round about you still. 

And there it is--- the freedom to question without being abandoned by God whose love can handle any questions or doubts or anger I may have. How I have longed for years to hear these words!

As far as sermons, I am less ready with an answer. I do wish preachers, both at funerals and every other day, offered messages that did not make me feel sinful for having doubts or questions or anger. As much as funeral sermons should celebrate the life of the departed, it should also address the emotions felt by the gathered and not ignore them in favor of offering bland, expected words.

And when it comes to speeches, the alliterative name I have assigned the topic of comfort offered by church-goers... as much as I appreciate your sincere desire to comfort me... you cannot. Your words cannot erase or quicken my grief, as much as you and I really wish they could. So... don't try so hard. Let me be sad and be sad with me. Lament is a true a form of worship as any-- don't make me do it alone.

So, preachers and song-writers and church-goers, of which I am (officially) neither, I have asked a lot of you tonight, but it boils down to this-- I (and so many others) are not always so full of joy as you seem to be, as it seems you expect. In fact, sometimes I am furious with God and doubt God takes any notice of my pain. Sometimes I am so overwhelmed with grief that I can't feel or express any other emotion. So... let me be sad. Give me songs and messages that let me be sad and assure me that it is okay to be sad, that it does not make me weak or a lesser follower.

And you know what? I bet sometimes your hopes are summer roses, too. Now I know-- it is okay to question, to be angry, to feel sick with doubt... God's arms of love and mercy are round about you still. 

 

- Hillary Beasley

Commandments and Being Close to the Kingdom

The following excerpt comes from the gospel of Mark, chapter 12.

²⁸ One of the teachers of religious law was standing there listening to the debate. He realized that Jesus had answered well, so he asked, “Of all the commandments, which is the most important?”

²⁹ Jesus replied, “The most important commandment is this: ‘Listen, O Israel! The Lord our God is the one and only Lord. ³⁰ And you must love the Lord your God with all your heart, all your soul, all your mind, and all your strength.’^{[g] 31} The second is equally important: ‘Love your neighbor as yourself.’^[h] No other commandment is greater than these.”
³² The teacher of religious law replied, “Well said, Teacher. You have spoken the truth by saying that there is only one God and no other. ³³ And I know it is important to love him with all my heart and all my understanding and all my strength, and to love my neighbor as myself. This is more important than to offer all of the burnt offerings and sacrifices required in the law.”
³⁴ Realizing how much the man understood, Jesus said to him, “You are not far from the Kingdom of God.” And after that, no one dared to ask him any more questions.

Before this passage, the teachers of religious law had been listening to Jesus answer questions, first about giving taxes to Caesar, and then, about marriage in heaven. Following these two discussions, one teacher, perhaps frustrated or curious or simply eager to hear the answer, wonders what the most important rule is. Each of the previous discussions revolved around rules--rules about money, rules about marriage... and the traditions surrounding those rules. And I can relate to this teacher, who finally wonders, "But what really matters? What is the most important thing I need to do, always?"

And the answer is perhaps one of my favorite moments in all of Scripture. When asked, "Which is the most important commandment," Jesus replies, first by quoting the Old Testament law in Deuteronomy 6:4-5, affirming the value of the old Scriptures. (Deut 6:4-5 reads, "Listen, O Israel! The Lord is our God, the Lord alone.And you must love the Lord your God with all your heart, all your soul, and all your strength.") But not only that, Jesus adds the second commandment, which he says is equally important, by quoting Leviticus 19:18 ( “Do not seek revenge or bear a grudge against a fellow Israelite, but love your neighbor as yourself. I am the Lord.")

The commandments Jesus cites are Old Testament law, highly venerated and sacredly followed by the teacher questioning him; the beauty of it is that Jesus sifts through entire books of laws and traditions to find these two as the most important: Love God. Love others.

I often call myself a Christ-follower rather than a Christian, simply because Christian has such twisted connotations. And as a person seeking to follow the teachings of Jesus for the betterment of self and world, this passage is of infinite importance. In a sense, we get the answer straight from God about the most important things for us to do. Love God with all of yourself. Love others as much or more than yourself.

I could write an entire essay on how easily shafted these two (ultimate) commands are by the church or by people in general, but especially the church. I'll save that one for later.

For this time, I am more interested in the short dialogue between Jesus and the teacher AFTER Jesus announces these two as the most important commandment.

The teacher says this:

³² The teacher of religious law replied, “Well said, Teacher. You have spoken the truth by saying that there is only one God and no other. ³³ And I know it is important to love him with all my heart and all my understanding and all my strength, and to love my neighbor as myself. This is more important than to offer all of the burnt offerings and sacrifices required in the law.”

Basically, he praises Jesus on his answer, and affirms his understanding of it. (well said... You have spoken truth... I know it is important..) and then he closes by saying "I know this is more important than to offer all of the burnt offerings and sacrifices required in the law."

What an answer! This man, in front of a crowd, claims that the two simple, invaluable commandments (Love God. Love others.) are more important than thousands of years of tradition, than hundreds of pages worth of holy law, and more shockingly, than the previous methods for atonement. In the Old Testament times, burnt offerings and sacrifices were required for the forgiveness of sin. But this teachers, in his attempt to summarize what Jesus has already claimed, says that loving God and loving others are more important commandments than all of the previous laws about purity, about atonement, about diet, everything!

What an outrageous claim to make in front of a crowd of other Jewish scholars! I imagine this moment as one of great danger for this teacher, for what he was saying could have been considered heresy by his peers. But what an amazing claim, too! That loving God and loving others are more important than the other ways previously used to atone for sin. Love over law. Amazing. Later, Jesus's death would fulfill the scriptures and tear the veil, as the perfect holy sacrifice, rendering unnecessary previous traditions for atoning for sin. But at this moment in the Biblical narrative, that hasn't happened yet. Still, the end of this conversation remains just as fascinating...

³⁴ Realizing how much the man understood, Jesus said to him, “You are not far from the Kingdom of God.” And after that, no one dared to ask him any more questions.

After the man's summation of Jesus's answer, Jesus "realizes how much the man understood" and affirms his outrageous answer, with an equally outrageous affirmation. "You are not far from the Kingdom of God."

I love these words of Jesus. The teacher in the passage has made an answer that many of his peers would have deemed heretical, but the answer affirms the importance of loving God and loving others over following tradition and law. In a moment where the entire crowd would have been holding their breath, wondering how Jesus would respond, Jesus says, "You are not far from the Kingdom of God."

This fascinates me! What did Jesus mean? Did he mean that the teacher's words were so dangerous that he was close to death, and therefore, heaven, and that's why no one dared to ask Jesus anymore questions because of He was warning him about his proximity to death? Possibly, but I think not.

Instead, I think these words are much more optimistic. Jesus says to the teacher, you are getting close, you are almost there... what you have just said is very close to the Kingdom. If that's the case, then the Kingdom of God, as Jesus is hinting at, elevates love over rules, love over tradition, love over everything.

Even still, the story isn't quite over. After Jesus says, "You are not far from the Kingdom of God," the passage ends, saying that after Jesus says these words, "No one dared to ask him any more questions."

Why? Was it so dangerous to elevate love over rules, over tradition? Or was the crowd so stunned by the Jesus's rhetoric, that they dared not try to trick him like they had with their previous questions about taxes and marriage?

Were they afraid? Afraid to be associated with the conversation in first place?

Or was this ideology of love over everything so hard to swallow that no one dared to ask anything else so they wouldn't have to hear anymore? Were they shocked that everything they had believed and followed for thousands of years could be put off to the side for "Love God. Love others."?

Even better question: do we still dare ask no more questions today because the ideology of love over everything is still so frightening?

These are things I wonder.

-H

what is grace?

grace is in my cell phone.

>>i hope you sleep well. God is in control. sermons are being preached. i hope i pay attention. Peace be with you...


<<Thanks. I hope I her them. Peace to you too

>>you are in the middle of your sermon...and it's going very well. bless you.




grace is at my job, in my classroom

do you need me to bring in lesson plans?
i came to give you a hug
you get a visit today
smiles and smiles and hands and hugs

grace is in my students, in their eyes and hands and words

you have the support of 7th period
i'm going to hug you know
i love you in a non-creepy way
you have to smile when you know he'll be okay, really
sorry about your friend
you just keep going and keep your head up, because if you don't smile, you can't do anything


grace is on Facebook, in my ears, touching my shoulder

grace is sitting with me on the beach
listening to the ocean weep

what is grief?

Grief is not to be found in a dictionary, but in snapshots.
It looks like eyes--eyes closed, eyes open, eyes hidden.

Grief is being afraid to sleep because dreams are so frail and uncontrolled;
you could see anything there.

Grief is being afraid to sleep because it means admitting
you've been awake, that it was real.

Grief is showering because it is something to do.

Grief is made up of hours slipping by in seconds that pass like days.

There are less tears in grief than blank stares.

Grief is not a lack of beauty, but a sole appreciation
for some beauty that is fleeting, a narrow gaze fixed
on that one point, taking  joy from nothing else.

The worst part?

Grief is knowing that worst is still to come.

Where God is.

I. Verse

where is god?
on first and amistad?

where is god?
"god is in her citadels; he has shown himself to be her fortress..."
where is god when the battle's already lost?
or when no one wants to fight at all?
does god take sides?

where is god?
"our god is in heaven; he does whatever pleases him."
what if it pleases no one else?
is it wrong to be displeased?
is heaven far away?

where is god?
"god is in heaven, and you are on earth, so let your words be few."
i'm looking for god.
i have plenty to say, but no words anyway.

where is god?
"the law of god is in their hearts; their feet do not slip."
what law? whose hearts?
i slip all the time.

II. Song

where is god?

"god is in this place."
where can i find this place?
is it green and lush, or
clean and plush?
is it simple and plain, or
are the windows stained?

"god is in the radio"
i guess so...

"god is in the roses and the thorns"
what about dandelions or tulips
or poison ivy or the vines that climb
and swallow the lightposts?

"god is in the room when she looks at me"
who is this imaginary girl?
what does she know that she won't share?
does she love you?

"god is in it"--what?
"god is in the house"--whose house?
"god is in control"-- i suppose i know.

god is most everywhere according to
billy jonas.
not the microwave sometimes.
might be into leather.
"god in the child's eyes, see them wide, wondrous, wise."

why is god not in the song i want to sing?



III. Punctuation

god is in the single dot. the full stop.
even eternity must have paused
to catch her breath in bethlehem,
on calvary, in that hospital room with me.

god is in the comma, and god is
like outstretched hands, connecting
or a long pause, gasping.

god is in the exclamation's shout!
the anger, the fervor, the wonder!

god could be in the colon:
the answer.

god is in the semi-colon; god
joins what would remain apart.

is god in the question mark?
is the curve and unoffensive dot
the mark of the fall of a former
zealot?
is it my downfall, my lack of faith?
or is it the curve of god's embrace?

IV. Places

god may be here, maybe near.
god may be trapped within closed pages, or
flung far across the stars and spaces.

god may be in a child's face,
even when that smile is screwed in place

god may be in the jungle's leaves
the city's sleeves.

god may be in the resting place or
the runner's pace.

god may be in the IV line, the glass of wine.
god is in my last glimpse of grace.