Shaking My Head

Here’s a sampling of the stories I’ve heard lately: 

One was about a refugee—a woman—who had come to the U.S. for a conference.  In her home country, she worked for a non-profit humanitarian organization.  While she was at the conference, she received word that the Muslim extremists back in her country, didn’t like her humanitarian efforts and that they were threatening to kill her when she returned.  I am sure it is more complex than that, but that’s the bottom line.  The threats were verified and she received asylum in the U.S.  HOWEVER, her husband and three children are back in her home country.  Her youngest child is 3 years old.  He does not understand why mommy cannot come home.  They are trying to arrange for her family to come to the U.S. as well, but the entire process could take up to 5 years—her youngest child would be 8 when she next sees him.      This is a woman with a Master’s degree who does Power Point presentations.  Here in the states, she’ll be lucky to get work as a seamstress.   

Then I heard a story about a man who spent thirty of the fifty-two years of his life in prison for arson.  The reason he would burn things?  Because his mom beat him as a child and called him worthless.  She regularly told him that it was ridiculous of him to think he could graduate high school or have any friends.  He would get so sad and angry about it all that burning something would burn all of those feelings up so that he could carry on. 

Another story was about a young man who had lived in a small, remote town his entire life as part of a cult religion.  He finally got fed up with the “church’s” rules when they informed him that in addition to not eating sugar, his 5 children could not play anymore.  They had to get rid of toys and bikes and games etc.  This was the final straw and he left the town with his children who then got to be kids and go to movies and have fun.  But, without the support of the [crazy] church, he hardly knew what to do.  He had no support and wasn’t making enough money to care for his kids properly.  Plus, he was struggling with depression and was worried about caring for his kids properly.  Long story short, all of his children were adopted into great homes.  He still sees his kids, but only a few times a year.  He drives a truck and lives alone. 

This last story made me particularly angry because it involved a religious component, which was actually a cause of harm in this man’s life. 

These sad stories of

abuse

losing kids

depression

and the many problems facing refugees

have really impacted me this week.  As the fall colors have faded to brown and the sky has been mostly gray, I’ve been slowly sinking into a swamp of sorts. 

Not only have these stories about strangers troubled me, I’ve had some upsetting things happening closer to home:  Misunderstandings, issues with my pre-teen, worry about my niece and sister-in-law, anger at the media for misrepresenting my church, and distressing news about a sweet friend struggling with anxiety.  [Just to name a few.]

That feeling of opening my eyes to so many problems in the world, so much hideous evil, so much pain and suffering, so much sadness, so much injustice, so much heaviness begins to take it’s toll.  I’ve been doing a lot of shaking my head and asking God “why?”

The answer is quiet, subtle.

It comes in the form of a last sob over yet another sad story I heard.  It comes with a gulp of air and an empty heart.

Empty.  Desperate.  Sad. 

Longing.

We are all longing.

Longing for things to improve.  Longing for answers.  Longing for peace.  Longing for joy to return.  Longing for justice.  Longing for healing.  Longing for this messed up, sad, brown, frustrating world to be fixed.

Looking at the huge intense pain of the entire world, not to mention any personal difficulties we might be facing, it’s so easy to sink into complete, desolate, despondency. 

However, at the bottom of that pit, is longing.  Longing lifts our hearts and causes our eyes to look up—to find what we are longing for.  And as we recognize the longing, a tiny spark of hope is born.  If I’m longing, what (or who) am I longing for?  And if I’m longing for someone, will they answer? 

Yes.  He will definitely answer. 

He has always answered the cries of the oppressed. 

Even if physical circumstances appear to be unchanged, He is here with us.  He is digging deep into our souls, planting hope, speaking truth, promising joy—not just future joy, but current joy that starts now.  This mysterious joy steadies our quaking minds, walks with us in the darkest places, and miraculously fortifies the hearts of individuals facing unspeakable things. 

I don’t know exactly how it works, but I know that it is absolutely real.  It’s God stepping into our painful, brown, messed up world—first as a baby and now as a Spirit.  He is with us.

Isaiah 9:1-2

Nevertheless, that time of darkness and despair will not go on forever.

The people who walk in darkness

    will see a great light.

For those who live in a land of deep darkness,

    a light will shine.

v. 6-7

For a child is born to us,

    a son is given to us.

The government will rest on his shoulders.

    And he will be called:

Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God,

    Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace.

His government and its peace

    will never end.

He will rule with fairness and justice from 

the throne of his ancestor David

    for all eternity.

Psalm 35:9-10 But I will rejoice in the Lord. He shall rescue me! From the bottom of my heart praise rises to him. Where is his equal in all of heaven and earth? Who else protects the weak and helpless from the strong, and the poor and needy from those who would rob them?