This past week has been an emotional one. As a church music lady I attend a lot of funerals and I was asked to lead the music at the funeral this week for a wonderful woman who was 81 years old. She lived an amazing life, bearing 11 children (losing two of them when they were still young), opening and operating a highly successful business, and being heavily involved in charitable endeavors. Her health had been deteriorating, however, and her death wasn’t fully unexpected. While the family mourned, they also celebrated a full life well-lived.
This week also brought news of another death: a 19-year old young man from church died from suicide. He was still at the beginning of his life, a young man with so many talents that it seemed the whole world was open to him. Mental health issues, however, combined with heavy emotional burdens became too hard to bear and he found a way to stop the agony. It has been so tragic. Our community has rallied around the family, mourned the loss of this wonderful young man, and looked inward to see what we could each do in the future to help prevent this kind of tragedy from happening again.
It’s easier to cope with loss when there seems to be a natural reason. People age, and after many years of living they pass away. When faced with the agonizing and unexpected grief of unexpected loss, we often begin questioning: Why did this happen? What is the purpose of this? What could I have done differently? Has God turned His back on me? How am I possibly going to process this pain? What am I to learn? Why me, or why them? The questions can begin flooding our mind, keeping us from knowing how to move forward.
I don’t have answers for these questions. Let’s get real, our finite mortal minds can’t get the full answers we seek in this life. Bad things happen to good people. God “maketh His sun to rise on the evil and on the good, and sendeth rain on the just and the unjust.” The Lord does not prevent tragedies from occurring. Does that make Him an unloving and an unfair God? Of course not. It means that He has allowed us to live a mortal existence where agency and the laws of nature function.
Several people told me after Ben died that “God obviously needed him more over there than here.” I hated that rather seemingly trite comment. Another person, however, told me that there doesn’t have to be a grand purpose in a specific tragedy – for we live in a telestial world that has death and pain as our companions. She counseled me to look for lessons I could learn, instead of focusing on seeking answers as to why Ben had to die at age 46. I really appreciated that insight.
So, then, if we can’t understand why any specific bad thing has happened, then what are we to do when those life-altering tragic events occur? I have a couple thoughts.
When tragedy strikes we have an opportunity to turn more fully to the Lord and the peace and comfort He alone can give. The Lord Himself told His apostles that “in this world ye shall have tribulation,” but he added, “but be of good cheer, for I have overcome the world.” “Peace I leave with you, my peace I give unto you: not as the world giveth, give I unto you. Let not your heart be troubled, neither let it be afraid.”
Great. We can seek “peace.” That sure sounds amorphous and vague. How is that actually going to help? It won’t reverse the situation or solve the difficulties we’re now in. Malcom X used to argue that religion was used to keep people enslaved instead of allowing them to be free. Aside from the specific political and historical argument he was making (and we can have that discussion at another time), I would disagree with that premise in situations of profound loss. I have found that as I seek God’s peace that I have greater capacity to bear sorrows, to move forward, and to have hope. Those aren’t small things.
My grandma used to have a favorite hymn that she asked me to play and sing for her frequently. The hymn, Come, Ye Disconsolate is a beautiful reminder of God’s constant care. Granker (the nickname I bestowed upon her when I was too little to be able to pronounce grandma) had known great hardship and sorrow. By the time she lived with us she had been a widow for nearly 30 years. Many of her childhood memories were difficult. She had been in a auto-pedestrian accident that gave her great limitations for the final decade of her life. When she would feel down and overcome by pain, however, she would sing this hymn:
Come, ye disconsolate, where’re ye languish;
Come to the mercy seat, fervently kneel.
Here bring your wounded hearts; Here tell your anguish,
Earth has no sorrow that heav’n cannot heal.
Joy of the desolate, Light of the straying,
Hope of the penitent, faceless and pure!
Here speaks the Comforter, tenderly saying,
“Earth has no sorrow that heav’n cannot cure.”
Here see the Bread of Life; see waters flowing
Forth from the throne of God, pure from above.
Come to the feast of love; come, ever knowing
Earth has no sorrow but heav’n can remove.
I have come to love this hymn and have leaned on it many times when I am in, as Anne (from Anne of Green Gables) would say, in the depths of despair. I have learned that leaning more into God’s care when faced with sorrows I can’t find answers to helps me immeasurably. I find myself able to cope at a higher level when I have sought for the Higher help.
Another consequence or impact of our sorrows and tragic experiences is the opportunity to grow in empathy and care for others. As we suffer we find ourselves more able to “bear one another’s burdens that they may be light.” We have understanding to “strengthen… the weak hands, and confirm the feeble knees. [to] say to them that are of a fearful heart, Be strong, fear not…” Pain begets charity – that pure love of Christ that is the pinnacle of all caring. I’ve always viewed myself as a caring person, but I’ll be honest, I feel others’ pains far more deeply now than I did before Ben’s death, before my head trauma, before some of the hard trials of recent years. I have also discovered an inner strength that I never knew I had.
And yet another reality of suffering is the opportunity for others to reach out and bless the lives of the sufferers. It takes humility to accept that help, and humility is good. It allows people to use their innate humanity to care for someone outside of themselves. Allowing people to serve us is a valuable opportunity for them and an important growth-opportunity for ourselves.
Seeking answers is natural, but focusing just on the why questions makes it harder to move forward and find real life-changing meaning behind the pain. Here’s probably a real lame analogy, but I’m going to make it anyway. This morning I needed to steam the wrinkles out of my skirt. I hadn’t used the steamer for quite a while, so I kinda forgot how it works. I was using it as an iron! I put the steamer head on my skirt and moved rapidly up and down, as though I was ironing the wrinkles out instead. Nothing happened. The wrinkles remained and I got frustrated. Then I remembered how it works. I put the steamer head a teensy bit away from the fabric and slowly moved it. Sometimes I kept it in one spot. By using the steamer differently than I intuitively thought at first I got the skirt de-wrinkled and all was well. So it is with sorrow. Focusing on the natural why questions we will get bogged down and not solve the wrinkles of our pain. Slowly moving forward by seeking the Lord and His care will allow us to heal.
Life is hard. I don’t have answers for why the worst things happen to some of the best people. I don’t understand why people must suffer through the myriad tragedies that befall humankind. I won’t ever understand man’s inhumanity to man. All I know is that God loves His children and wishes them to turn to Him. As our hearts and minds turn more to the Lord we can find the strength to endure virtually anything and to accomplish great things on our path to return to Him. Life can stink, but God is good. That is the only truth I can trust.
Look to God and Live... Joyfully! 