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A Few Words from Pastor Bryan
...and Jan Richardson
I shared the following "Blessing When the World Is Ending" with our morning devotion group Thursday morning this week. When Jan writes about "the world ending" she doesn't mean it literally necessarily. She's talking about all kinds of endings that take place in our personal lives and in our world at large. Read this blessing of her's and I'll have a few more things to say after it.
Jan Richardson--Blessing When the World Is Ending
“The sun will be darkened . . .
and the powers in the heavens
will be shaken.” —Mark 13:24–25
Look, the world is always ending somewhere.
Somewhere the sun
has come crashing down.
Somewhere it has gone completely dark.
Somewhere it has ended
with the gun,
the knife,
the fist.
Somewhere it has ended with the slammed door,
the shattered hope.
Somewhere it has ended
with the utter quiet that follows the news
from the phone,
the television,
the hospital room.
Somewhere it has ended
with a tenderness
that will break your heart.
But, listen, this blessing
means to be anything but morose.
It has not come to cause despair.
It is here simply because
there is nothing a blessing is better suited for
than an ending,
nothing that cries out more
for a blessing than when
a world is falling apart.
This blessing will not fix you,
will not mend you,
will not give you false comfort;
it will not talk to you about one door opening
when another one closes.
It will simply sit itself beside you
among the shards
and gently turn your face
toward the direction
from which the light will come,
gathering itself about you
as the world begins again.
What strikes me so deeply in this blessing is the last part. I love that she says that a blessing like this will not "fix, mend, or offer you false comfort." As most of you know, I'm not a fan of pious platitudes or trying to wrap a neat and pretty bow around the harsh and complex realities of life. That kind of religious language and theology just doesn't ring true. Biblical faith is NOT about certainty. It's really much more about how we live with all this is uncertain, unknown, and sometimes quite simply-- unresolvable.
Seeking and knowing and living "in" God is not a matter of having all the answers or of having everything figured out. It's not about security as our world would define it. It's not about thinking that if we believe "hard enough" that we can change outcomes or bend reality to the shapes we wish it would take. It's more about, as Mother Teresa once put it, "depending on the insecurity of Providence." Of choosing to trust God with all that can't be known. And let's face it. There's so much that we simply can't know. So much so it seems that that must be the design of the Creator. One of my favorite Bible verses is Proverbs 27:1: "Do not boast about tomorrow, for you do not know what today may bring." It's just so true.
BUT--as Jan puts it so beautifully, we can, even when things are darkest, know that God is with us exactly where we are, and let that knowledge "gently turn our face toward the direction from which the light will come."
The light will come. Oh sometimes not anywhere near as quickly as we'd like. But it WILL come. That is the promise of biblical faith and especially the life and teachings of Jesus. That no matter what, God is with us, and that means the Source of the Light itself is always with us. It means that all of the darkness in the world can never extinguish the Light. As I often say, the only thing I can really promise anyone is that o matter what, we'll be always be given whatever we need to face whatever we have to face. Always.
I don't want trite cliches. They don't help me when the world is falling apart. I don't want false hope-- assurances of specific outcomes that no one can possibly guarantee. Those kinds of promises are not true or real, and they feel like lies when people throw them at us at the most difficult moments. But gently, when we're ready, may we help each other turn our faces in the direction from which light will come--in its own way and in its own time. That just might change everything.
The Light Jan writes about, like the dawn of each new day, will always come. That has become one of my deepest convictions. It gives me hope, and as I glance at this crazy world that is so terribly unjust and full of suffering (as well as beauty--it's always both), well, it puts a smile in my heart, even in those times when some part of the world is ending.
Thanks Jan Richardson.
Hope to see you all soon one way or another,
Pastor B
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