When He speaks through a child: reflections on tragedy, courage and dependence on God

This has been a difficult week. It has also been a full week in which many us were called on to care for and comfort others, plan for services and times of prayer, and to offer other areas of support in light of so much pain and grief. While I find myself talking to God a lot in these types of situations, I can easily forget to listen to what He says back to me.  But God, who knows me inside and out, knows that I rarely fail to listen to a child.  I find in the moments when I can get too wrapped up in what I'm doing FOR God, when I forget to listen TO God, He inevitably speaks through the children in my life.  He does know how to get my attention :)

On Tuesday I attended the memorial service of a much beloved faculty member at Seattle Pacific University who died of a sudden illness. 48 hours later, a gunman killed one student and injured two others on that same campus.  The SPU community and all those that love that community are heartbroken.

On Sunday, our services were dedicated to lamenting, praying and worshiping with and for the SPU community. Quest, our church, is just a mile from SPU.  We have many students, faculty, staff, alums and others who have a relationship with that campus that attend our church, including members of our staff and lay leadership.  It was a time of grieving, acknowledging our pain, crying out to God and proclaiming our hope in Him.  Our youth group kids usually go to their own class during our 11am service. However, their leaders felt they should stay in the service, both for their own grieving and healing (many of them have their own connections to SPU), and for them to see how we, as the Body of Christ, are called to mourn with and comfort those who are grieving.  Both our boys are very empathetic and tend to be sensitive to the emotions of those around them. While this is a beautiful gift, it can also be overwhelming is this setting, especially for children and teens. We told our boys that if it became too intense for them, they could go downstairs to help with our Toddlers and Preschoolers (they are both youth volunteers with these ages).  About halfway through the service, it was too much for our 12 year old and he headed downstairs to hang out with "his kids" (he is his mother's child :) ).  On the way he handed me a note he had written during the service and asked me to "give it to SPU" (I have sent it on with an SPU professor). He also gave me permission to read and share it.

In case you can't read his writing, this is what it say:
"Dear SPU,
During this time of sadness, fear, anger, and darkness, do not let them overcome you. During these times of grief we ask, "Why God?", but don't give up hope! God is with you even when it doesn't feel like He is. Many are praying for you. Be strong and courages (sic) for the Lord God is with you. That's from the Bible somewere(sic). Remember we are praying for you.

From 6th Grader
A Christensen"

Needless to say, I teared up. However, even more so, I was struck by God's powerful reminder that I and many others needed.  The verse that my son mentions is Joshua 1:9
"Have I not told you?
Be strong and courageous.
Do not be terrified;
do not be discouraged,
for the Lord your God will be with you wherever you go"

At the end of the service, we asked those who needed prayer to come to the front where pastors, staff and lay leaders would pray with them.  As I prayed with people, I found myself praying this passage over and over for us.  If ever we needed strength and courage, it is now. If we ever needed to fight back against terror and discouragement, it is now.  I often think of this passage in reverse:
Because the Lord our God is with us wherever we go,
We do not need to give in to discouragement and terror
But rather He makes us strong and courageous.

Amen.

Yet another reminder came via FB. This morning, I woke up to this post on my wall from the father of one of 5 year olds:

"While laying in A's bed tonight as I tried to help her fall asleep, she starts to talk about the 'man who hurt the people' at SPU. This leads to a conversation about her thoughts and fears, and I catch myself (with the best intentions) telling her that she has nothing to fear since mommy and daddy will protect her. I pause, realizing how empty this statement truly is, and shift the conversation to the following:

Me: You know who will always protect you, will always watch out for you, and will never fail you?
A: Who?
Me: I'll give you a hint: we talk about this person all the time at church!
A: Oh... God!

At this point, I'm feeling pretty positive and successful in giving reassurance AND truth to my 5 year old. Then, she stumps me...

A: So, do you know who looks out for God?
Me: Uhhh, well... God looks out for himself...
A: Nope, but I'll give you a hint: we talk about this person all the time in church!
Me: Ummm, Jesus?
A: NO silly, Teacher PAM!!!!

No pressure, but apparently you're now responsible for God's safety and security ;) "

I laughed so hard that tears came to my eyes.  It gave a number of our mutual friends a chuckle, too.  And the Lord knew we all needed it! 
We laugh because of the sweetness of a child's trust and the innocence of their understanding.  We smile and think, "Out of the mouths of babes." We laugh because as adults we know that, of course, reality is the total opposite.

But it only took me a few minutes before it became clear that once again, God was reminding me of His truth through the words of a child.  He was not telling me that I was his bodyguard.  No, He reminded me that it's quite the opposite, even when I may convince myself that it's not.   Now I'm fairly certain that I've never said to myself that I need to watch out for God's safety :) But how many times either directly or indirectly have I said to Him, "I can do it myself",  "I'll let you know if I need you", "Here what I need and here's how You should do it", or even "Get out of the way and let me do it my way!"  But isn't that basically the same thing as saying I'm in charge of God?  It really is silly and childish, but is far from the childlike faith we are called to.

As I rest on this my Sabbath day, it's easy to convince myself that I'm fine, I've got this, I know how to grieve this tragedy that has happened to a community that I love. Maybe I'm not saying that specifically, but it's the route our hearts often want to take: I'm independent, I'm capable, I'm steady, when the reality is that we are anything but.  I'm not fine, I don't have this and I don't know how to grieve this violation: of a building where I spent 75% of my time as a student, of faculty and staff that were my colleagues in my first staff position at SPU in that same building, of friends who I used to work with all over campus and those who are alums, to this student body, many of whom I have had the privilege of working with and walking alongside as volunteers at Quest. I do need God's courage. I need His strong arms. I need His sheltering wings.

As a church we are reading through the Psalms together, one each day all summer. Today's is Psalm 22. This is my prayer for today as we all grieve, cling to the hope that is ours and begin the long road to healing:

"But you, O Lord, be not far off;
O my Strength, come quickly to help me." vs. 19

Amen and Amen.

 

Why do I blog?

A friend was recently asked this on her grad school application. It made me ask myself: Why do I blog? I've been writing for 20 years and only shared a handful of those pieces with a handful of people. What on earth possessed me to want to suddenly share my thoughts with the world (or at least the dozen or so that would actually read it given the oceans of blogs out there)?

These types of subjective questions usually take me awhile to articulate.  I am an intuitive feeling kind of person.  I can tell you that I loved a book, but if you ask me for the themes in said book, it's going to take me awhile (or I'll just say, "I don't know. It was a good book!" and wonder why your questioning me like my high school English teacher). Abstract just is not my thing. 

I expected my answer to the question of blogging to be along the same lines: "I don't know. I just do." Yet, surprisingly, that was not the answer that popped into my head. I didn't even really have to think about. It was just there.

I blog because I know what it's like to believe you are alone.

In January of 2009, my stepmom, or Mum as I called her, was diagnosed with stage 4 pancreatic cancer.  She did well on chemo for quite awhile, but in June of 2010 the treatments stopped working.  My parent was dying.

She was 65 years old. So young. I was 36 years old. I didn't know anyone else who had lost a parent at that age; who had needed to support their own children in their grief over losing a beloved grandmother, while caring for their dying parent and their surviving parent. I had bought into the lie that no one understood. That I was alone.

Of course, I knew God was with me. Prayer and verses like these helped me to survive most days:

"God is our refuge and strength, a very present help in trouble." Psalm 46:1

"Come to me, all who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest." Psalm 11:28

But I also needed to know that another human being understood where I was, who had didn't have to explain it to, who had walked through it and could tell me, from experience, that it gets easier, if not better, eventually. 

And into that place, God sent two precious sisters. Two dear friends who had been there, survived it and understood where I was.

As I look back over my life, I can see so many places where God has given me this support, this community. And I can see places when I have been able to be there for someone else who believed in their darkest, most painful place that they, too, were alone.  

And through it all, this much is clear: God created us to live in community. And sometimes that community is virtual :)

"Two are better than one, because they have a good return for their work: If one falls down, his friend can help him up. But pity the man who falls and has no one to help him up! Also, if two lie down together, they will keep warm. But how can one keep warm alone?  Though one may be overpowered, two can defend themselves. A cord of three strands is not quickly broken."    
Ecc. 4: 9-12

So this is why I blog:
I don't have all the answers or all the experiences. But I can say to the mom of a child with special needs, to a child of parents with disabilities, to an adult struggling with the loss of their parent, to a reserve military spouse who feels isolated in their civilian world, to a woman who is trying to hold everything together in spite of her own hidden disabilities: "I understand and you are not alone."

And sometimes, that's all we need.