Letting Pain Point to Christ: My thoughts on the Aurora tragedy

"Lord, let this death feel unnatural. Let its pain sink in and leave those behind searching desperately for something more. Let them feel, as you do, an utter resentment for death and its power, and especially for its source. Death is not from you, Lord. It was never what you created us for. Let them know that truth beyond a shadow of a doubt. Let them recognize the undeniable signature of the enemy on this painful reality, and let their pain fortify them to do battle against him with more ferocity than ever."

At the mid-week prayer meeting at my church this week, I introduced myself to a visitor about my age and invited her to pray with me. I reveled in the prayer she lifted and worshiped along with her the way only two Spirit-bonded believers could. And as she began to pray for a family in our community that had just lost two members to a murder-suicide, I was moved deeply. "Lord, let this death feel unnatural." Definitely not the way I would've begun a prayer expressing my heart's desire that the family be comforted. "Let them feel utter resentment..." Yeah, definitely never prayed that one before. "Death is not from you, Lord. It was never what you created us for." Wait, what? I'm not too sure this  staunch and quite practical Calvinist really believes that... but... somehow, it rings so true in my heart... I was intrigued, moved, provoked to thought. But somehow I managed to move on with my life without too much more thought on the issue - a bad habit I admit I somehow manage to do far too often.

And then it happened. Friday morning happened. The news made impact like an all-too-familiar punch in the gut. Another brutal act of senseless violence - yes, I've woken up to a few too many similar stories on the radio even in my short 21 years, but this one, this one was somehow different. Mostly people my age, gathered to have a good time the way I often gather to have a good time, shot by a university student I have more in common with than I'd care to admit, in a town literally too close to home. In an instant my thoughts,
Kayla's prayer from Wednesday night, burst through my door to meet me right where I was at. How to pray? How to think?

For quite a while, I ruminated mentally, gathering the facts and problem-solving on a level that honestly didn't come close to unraveling the gut-wrench deep in my stomach. Then Saturday afternoon, 30 hours after the initial news, it all hit me. For real. I suddenly struggled to finish my drive home from work as a flood of tears burst from my gut, rushed through all of me, and finally escaped from my eyes. And with it also escaped the simply human words I'm often too theologically technical to ask: "Why? God, why?..."

In that moment and many moments since, I have felt a fraction of what those who experience the real pain of death feel. And Kayla was right. Death feels unnatural. It feels desperately painful. It feels, just, wrong. No matter how many theological puzzle pieces we can give ourselves and those involved, somehow the "why" puzzle never seems satisfyingly put together. And - here's the amazing new thing for me - that's okay.
That's the way it should be. You see, death feels unnatural because, quite simply, it is unnatural. Genesis 2 gives us a glimpse of the stark contrast, how it should be - man full of the everlasting life-breath of God, man minus separation, man pre-loss and pre-lonely. Man as each and every one of us was created to be. But then chapter 3 happened. Sin happened. Death happened. And so death passed onto all men, because now all of us sin (Rom. 5:12). Yes, death is all wrong. It was not what we were created for. And everything in all of us, as image-bearers of a perfect, sinless God, is disappointed, repulsed, pained, and wronged by it.

And that is why Christ. Because sin was never the way it was supposed to be. Because the one who feels the most pain and resentment at death is God. Not that death is stronger than God by any means, but the sovereign God who graciously allowed the capacity to sin when He gave man free will was no less satisfied by its consequence, universal death, than we are. In fact, immediately after the sentence of death fell off of His lips, He pronounced authoritatively that this mortal consequence would not be permanent. His plan to reconcile, to replace death with everlasting life would prevail (Gen. 3:15).

And it did prevail. When Christ, who came "that you might have life, and that you might have it more abundantly" (Jn. 10:10), died Himself to pay the ultimate consequence of sin; when Christ, who Himself is the life (Jn. 14:6), broke away the stone and emerged from the grave, life conquered! Death, the ultimate and final enemy of us all (1 Cor. 15:26) died! And it is because of (not in spite of) the deep and unrelenting pain of death we feel along with its victims that at the sight of the empty tomb we cry out with Paul, "Death is
swallowed up in victory! O death, where is your victory? O death, where is your sting?... Thanks be to God, who gives us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ!" (1 Cor. 15:55-57).

So in the face of a tragedy like the Aurora shooting, let's not try futilely to erase the pain of death with theological arguments or hopeful catch-phrases, but let's allow ourselves and others to experience the deep pain of unnatural death - and then let's point passionately to the death-defeating work of Christ. Let's point to a merciful God who sacrificed everything to provide escape from the grip of death that both He and we so
desperately hate. And through it all, let's eagerly await the day when God's death-defeating plan will be fully consummated at the return of the victorious Christ, the day when the God of life declares, "Behold, I am making all things new" (Rev. 21:5). "He will wipe away every tear... and death shall be no more, neither shall there be mourning, nor crying, nor pain anymore, for the former things have passed away" (Rev. 21:4). Let's let our pain point us to Christ.

Made Truly Beautiful: a paraphrase of James 1

Over the last year, I've been studying the book of James. A study that I thought would take a couple of months has ended up lasting close to a year, and is still going on. =) Needless to say, James has become one of my favorite books in the Bible. And of the book, chapter 1 has been my favorite of all. Even as I've reviewed this segment before posting it, I've been convicted and challenged again by these verses' beautiful contents. This paraphrase of chapter 1 is the fruit of my study and the best way to summarize what God has done in my heart through it. I hope you enjoy, and I pray that God might perhaps use it to impact your life as He has mine.

~

Sabrina, rejoice with everything within you when you face trials. When you are blessed beyond measure, lift your heart in praise. When you are broken by the loss of what you love, lift your hands and sing. Through all of these testings, God is proving that your faith is steadfast. He is fulfilling His promise to shape you in his strong hands, to change you into the image of His Son, to perfect you day by day until one day you are fully glorified.

When you are overwhelmed by your daily lack of wisdom to handle these trials, when you don’t know how to respond to them, run to your Father God, Sabrina. Beg him for wisdom. He is generously focused on you when you ask him for wisdom. Nothing delights his heart more than pouring wisdom on his children—he will never reproach you for your weakness. But don’t ask him one moment and then run to other sources for wisdom the next. Choose to wait for God’s wisdom. Don’t look to yourself; don’t listen to the world. In the moment you decide you no longer need God’s wisdom – in the moment you decide to keep all your options open – you are unstable, like a wave in the ocean driven back and forth without purpose. Pray as the Psalmist, “Unite my heart to fear your name.” Beg God for a pure heart and focused purpose.

When God gives you extravagant gifts beyond what you deserve, rejoice; and when every gift you loved is stripped away, rejoice—knowing this, that both fullness and emptiness pass away. Like a flower withers under the scorching summer sun, every moment of delight and every moment of disappointment will come and go. Anyone who pursues those moments of delight is a fool, chasing after the wind. Don’t be a fool, Sabrina. Remain steadfastly focused on God through every delight and every tear, every life addition and every life subtraction. Let your heart be constantly characterized by one love, and your life characterized by one pursuit. Understand this: everlasting life only lies in one place: the love of God. Everlasting life is only given to one person: the one who loves God. So don’t be distracted, Sabrina.

Now, don’t get me wrong: God does not lead you into times of trial to tempt you to distraction. Don’t even allow yourself to think such a thing, Sabrina. You know your God: he is too pure to be associated with temptation. He himself can never be tempted, and he will most certainly never tempt you. No, when times of trial come, admit that it is your own selfish heart that will try to lead you astray. Your own idolatrous, adulterous heart will make an idol out of any gift from God in a moment. And your own foolish and prideful heart will throw a temper tantrum in the next moment when God takes away that gift. You know this is true. So don’t listen to your heart, Sabrina. Don’t give your heart the time of day. When you flirt with your desires, invite your lusts into your bedroom, they will conceive sin in you. It’s inevitable. And sin, when it has developed, will be born as death. There is no stopping it. Your own heart, your own lying thoughts, will kill you, Sabrina.

But when your own self will kill you, God desires nothing less than to make your life more abundant. He is the farthest thing from your tempter. Rather, he is your Father who delights to give you good and beautiful gifts, just because he delights to see the smile on your face when you open them. Every trial he gives you is one of these gifts, Sabrina. When he gives them to you, he anticipates your remembrance that his purposes for your sanctification and his glory never change.  When you are blessed, when you are broken, he anticipates the joyful anthem of praise that will erupt from your lips. You know this is the kind of God he is, Sabrina. Don’t forget. He saved you, purely because he wanted to, remember? He opened your ears and heart to the truth because he wanted to set you apart as a beautiful recreation.

So when trials come, Sabrina, remember the God who has given them to you. Close your tempter mouth and quiet your lustful heart. Listen. Don’t erupt with anger against God for this trial: anger will never produce what God wants to work in you now. Put away the selfish responses you want to make—the contamination of idolatry and the wickedness of rampant anger—and listen. Receive with meekness the word God wants to implant into your heart through this trial. Don’t forget, he is sanctifying you—saving you—through whatever is happening. Listen.

Listen, and then obey. If you hear God’s words and choose not to obey them, choose not to let him change you through this trial, you are just like someone who examines herself closely in a mirror and sees faults, but then walks away, deliberately choosing not to fix them. This person must either be highly arrogant, believing that the world will be blessed to see her disheveled hair and snotty nose; or she is pitifully deceived, hoping that perhaps no one will notice her smeared makeup. Don’t be so arrogant, don’t be so naïve, Sabrina, as to walk away from a trial thinking you are above change. Don’t be so deaf as to disregard the words of your loving Father, or so blind as to ignore the faults he has graciously pointed out. Act upon what you learn in a trial, grasping hold of the freedom there is when God shapes you and molds you into the beautiful image of Christ by his grace. When you boldly act upon what God has shown you, not only hearing but doing, God will surely bless that action, that doing.

Sabrina, if you think you are beautifully religious while you walk about with disheveled pride, snotty blindness, and smeared arrogance, all you’ll have to back up your claim is your own words. Everyone, especially God, will know you are a fake. Your “beautiful religion” will in fact be utterly worthless, hideously ugly. This is what you were before God intervened in your life: a fake. But he knows that religion that is beautiful, pure, and without fault is always bursting with action. This is what God is accomplishing in you, Sabrina! He is shaping in you the kind of life that is beautiful enough to speak for itself. So close your mouth, and live it! Walk humbly and mercifully with others. Meet needs when you see them. Walk purely with your God. This is what real Christianity is, Sabrina! As God shapes you to understand it, obey him! Live it boldly!

Judgment or Compassion?

I had a surreal and eye-opening experience about two weeks ago when I sat down for dinner in the dining hall at school. While I was waiting for my boyfriend to get his food, I sat back and people-watched as I often do (it's one of my favorite pasttimes =) ). But this time was a little different. I have no idea what sparked it, other than the pure mercy and grace of my God who is changing me daily into the image of Christ. As if He simply reached down and tore the scales off of my eyes, I began to see and admit to myself honestly what I thought about each person that walked by. "That girl is definitely stuck up." "She's a glutton." "Ugh, can't stand that guy. He's such a player." "Well, she's just too shy for her own good. Poor girl." "He thinks he's funny but he's definitely not." After about 5 minutes of freely admitting to myself what I honestly thought about each person I saw, I realized that probably around 70% of my opinions were negative. An observation my boyfriend had recently made to me rang in my ears: "Bitterness and judgmentalism are born out of self-righteousness. I see someone doing something I deem myself above doing, and I disdain them for it." That night, I was shocked to realize for the first time how close to home this truth really was.

I had a deja-vu moment in this area yesterday while studying the book "Love Walked Among Us" by Paul Miller. Chapter 3 drew attention to John 9, the story where Jesus and his disciples pass a blind man, and the disciples ask, "Who sinned that this man was born blind? He or his parents?" Jesus responds simply, "Neither. He was born this way so that the power of God may be demonstrated in his life." After I had read the chapter a few times, I was struck by one repetitive theme: Judgment and Compassion are incompatible. The disciples' presumptuous question kicks off the chapter with the first judging attitude. The theme continues when the Pharisees judge Jesus for preforming the miracle of the blind man's healing on the Sabbath. They jump to a quick and easy conclusion: "This man is not from God, for he does not keep the Sabbath" (v. 16). Their judgmentalism is also easily applied to the blind man and his parents, who obviously cannot be telling the truth when they say he was blind from birth (v. 18). His parents are too afraid to defend themselves because the Pharisees "already had decided that anyone who acknowledged that Jesus was the Messiah would be put out of the Synagogue" (v. 22). Besides, concerning Jesus, "We know this man is a sinner" (v. 24), they say. They refuse to listen to the blind man's words because they already know he is wrong (v. 27), and because they assume that he is a compromised witness, a disciple of Jesus (v. 28). Eventually, they throw the blind man out of their presence, labeling him with one sweeping conclusion: "You were steeped in sin at birth; how dare you lecture us!" (v. 34).

Jesus, on the other hand, blew me away with the depth of His compassion and understanding in the story. From his response to the disciples' question to the way He stoops and mixes his hands in mud made with saliva, He shows humility and a willingness to get Himself dirty with the affairs of the blind man. As Miller puts it, "Jesus lowers himself in order to care, while the disciples elevate themselves in order to judge." Even after the man's ordeal with the Pharisees, Jesus purposefully seeks him out to address his spiritual needs (v. 35). The blind man himself also stands in refreshing contrast to those who pretend to know it all when he repeatedly and humbly admits ignorance (vs. 12, 25, 36).

"If you were blind, you would not be guilty of sin; but now that you claim you can see, your guilt remains" (v. 41). As I read Jesus' conclusion of the whole matter, I was unable to deny on which side of the story I clearly stood. Suddenly, a flood of my own judgmentalism came careening through my mind and heart, including specific people I've failed to love over the last few months of my life. I began to ask myself, as Miller does, "[I'll] often notice things wrong with people, but does that initial look lead to compassion and helping, or to judging and distance? Compassion and judging are two different ways of 'seeing.'" Honestly, I felt - and still do feel - extremely overwhelmed by my answer, revealing this area of blindness I've had in my life. But I'm beginning to notice when judgmental thoughts come into my mind, I'm beginning to be bothered by them, and I'm beginning to beg for God's grace daily to purge me of this arrogant sin. God is beginning a great work in me.

I had another deja vu moment as I was driving in my car today and heard this song for the first time on the radio: "Jesus Friend of Sinners" by Casting Crowns. Please take a moment to listen. Really listen. Please take a leap with me and allow God to examine us and humble us in this area. "Judging separates and, thus, destroys community; compassion unites and creates community." ~ Miller

"Jesus Friend of Sinners" by Casting Crowns (Spotify)

Satisfied - Lessons from Psalm 139

~Intricately Known
Faithful God, You have intentionally sought out everything there is to know about me. You know my daily routine down to the minutest detail, You know what I'm thinking in any given moment, You know what I'm doing and why I'm doing it. You know me intricately, understand me intimately, and connect with me profoundly. You know me so well that You always know what I'm going to say before I even start to speak.

~Intimately embraced
You embrace me intimately, surrounding me with your presence gently. You touch me. I can't escape You, even if I tried. You are with me at every moment of every day. You join me in every activity, listen intently to every word and corresponding thought. On the good days and the bad days, You grasp my hand and lead me. You laugh with me when I laugh, and You cry with me when I cry. Even when I'm sure You will leave me, when my mind cannot fathom a love so profound it would stay with the harlot in a faithful, unbreakable vow; when all I see is darkness, hopelessness - these days are not hopeless to You. In fact, they're as bright as the day. Your light illumines my face. Your hope is unshaken.

~Meticulously shaped
Your hope is unshaken because You know. You were there in the beginning - You made me exactly as I am, with my desires, my tendencies, my weaknesses and strengths, for a purpose. You purposefully stitched each fiber of me together to look exactly like I do today.

~Purposefully set apart
On that first day, when You made me so meticulously, You looked on me and loved me. On that day, You chose me. You mysteriously and wonderfully set me apart and designated me "Yours." No one else's. I am Yours because You wanted me. And I've seen You continually set me apart and draw me closer and closer to Yourself as You work in me every single day. It's undeniable to me.

~Intentionally planned
I was not made apart from You in the very beginning - I was not a surprise to You. I was intentionally and painstakingly shaped by Your very own hands. From the very first day, You wrote every single moment of every single day of my life in scrupulous detail. In fact, it was even before my first day that my moments were written. Long before my substance was formed, You planned them.

~Perpetually thought of
You're constantly thinking of me, my God. You perpetually delight in the thought of me - Your intricately designed and purposeful daughter, Your precious creation, Your invaluable and set apart trophy. Your thoughts of me are continual, more than I could possibly count. Even if I could, they would number more than all the sand on all the seashores in the world. When I wake up in the morning, You are eagerly thinking of me.

Search out my heart, O God! Look in all of its rooms, be master of all of its fields, envelop all of its desires. Search under every rug, behind every door, in every closet, and under every bed. I am helplessly vulnerable to You, Lord - know my thoughts, my cares, my desires, my intentions, my plans, my fears, my loves, my hopes, my secrets. Show my anything  - anything - that grieves You, and lead me by my hand in the shadow of Your presence, forever.