Horror, Hype and Handel

Like many people, I woke up thinking about the massacre in Newtown. I sat glued to the TV yesterday, watching the horrors unfold in waves, wanting to tear away from it all and pretend it wasn't happening, but at the same time needing to watch.

I am disappointed (actually, infuriated) by some of the insensitive things said by Christian leaders about this. Can we please just sit with these poor people in their grief and SHUT UP!?!?! The friends of Job are often made fun of (justifiably so) for their bad advice to Job in his abject suffering, but for the first seven days, they got it right:

When they saw Job from a distance, they scarcely recognized him. Wailing loudly, they tore their robes and threw dust into the air over their heads to show their grief. Then they sat on the ground with him for seven days and nights. No one said a word to Job, for they saw that his suffering was too great for words. (Job 2:12-13). 

To do anything else -- say, use this as an opportunity to talk about prayer in the schools or how we are all murderers smacks of insensitive and opportunistic hype to me.

I'm grateful for my own pastor's words this morning... as always, they are gentle, knowing and subdued. Take 2 minutes to read them.

Newtown and Bethlehem

I woke early with the sorrow of Newtown.  The grief is overwhelming.  The loss is beyond any words or consolation.

I know that you have already joined the thousands who filled the churches of Newtown to pray.  We naturally turn to God in such moments not only in seeking comfort but also with our outrage that such innocent lives would be allowed to be taken.  What kind of world do we live in?  When will all this killing end?  How long will our Lord wait until making all things new - and giving us "right minds" where we truly do have a "Newtown" with a new Jerusalem and true peace on earth?  This juxtaposition of evil with the message of Christmas is not lost on any of us.

I've always been bothered by the Christmas story told in Matthew where Herod's angry insanity caused him to order the death of the baby boys in Bethlehem so he could end the life of the young rival king the Wisemen came to worship.  The grief of those parents undoubtedly mirrored the ones of today.  The juxtaposition of evil with God's gift of His own Son is not lost on any of us as well.

Evil in all its various forms is most obvious when it is the innocent who suffer and often die.  That is why the birth and death of the innocent child of Bethlehem speaks deeper than the words any of us can say.  That is why comfort is found only in God.  God is with us.  That is why the churches of Newtown are filled.

My thoughts take me to Handel's music and the words of Isaiah 40. 

Comfort ye, comfort ye my people, saith your God.

Speak ye comfortably to Jerusalem, and cry unto her, that her warfare is accomplished, that her iniquity is pardoned:  for she hath received of the Lord's hand double for all her sins.

The voice of him that crieth in the wilderness, Prepare ye the way of the Lord, make straight in the desert a highway for our God.  Every valley shall be exalted, and every mountain and hill shall be made low;  and the crooked shall be made straight, and the rough places plain;

And the glory of the Lord shall be revealed, and all flesh shall see it together;  for the mouth of the Lord hath spoken it.

When Handel wrote the music to communicate God's word his servants described him:  "He was praying...he was weeping...he was staring into eternity." 

That is what we are all doing.

Denny

Per Denny's advice, I am listening to Handel's Messiah this morning as I write this. May we continue to pray for those in Newtown, and pray that as believers we can offer persistent love, a listening ear and compassion to others in their loss and fear. There will be time in the future to take the conversation to bigger and more personal levels. Be patient. Here's an article I wrote this fall on comforting others in grief.

Meanwhile, I yearn for the "new town" of eternity to come quickly:

He who is the faithful witness to all these things says, “Yes, I am coming soon!”

Amen! Come, Lord Jesus! (Revelation 22:20)

Life of Love

Today marks four years since my beloved friend Matt Steele succumbed to brain cancer. As I still float in the wake of Claire Carey's death on August 14, I can do nothing but shake my head. There is nothing to say that truly communicates the deep pain of such loss.

To have loved two friends so much and walk with them through terminal illness and into death has been dreadful. The tragedy of their youth (Matt was 34, Claire was 35) makes it all the more awful.

It would be easy, even understandable, to become bitter as a result. What's the point of loving others only to lose them in such agonizing ways?

These days I cry easily. But I'm not sure that is so bad. To have my feelings always right near the surface feels risky, but also healthy. The emotions that come from the death of close ones are too strong to stay down. They well up whenever they want, whether I invite them or not. So I have gotten used to living with my heart being raw and unguarded. That is exhausting, to be sure -- so I'm grateful for the gift of time, which heals the top layers of the pain and gives me new skin to protect the deeper levels.

Though there is healing, I know I will never be the same. To have known such abysmal pain makes me much more sensitive to that of others. I see it, smell it, feel it, touch it. How do I respond when that happens? I can take my cue from what I read this morning in Ephesians 5:1-2 ~

Watch what God does, and then you do it, like children who learn proper behavior from their parents. Mostly what God does is love you. Keep company with him and learn a life of love. Observe how Christ loved us. His love was not cautious but extravagant. He didn't love in order to get something from us but to give everything of himself to us. Love like that.

While I would not recommend Eugene Peterson's paraphrase, The Message, for rigorous bible study, it is lyrical and refreshing for devotional reading. This passage is no exception.

I learned this "life of love" from other faithful mentors and friends who were patient with me when my ability and capacity for love was broken. One in particular, Ruth Schmidt, was like a mother to me. She was consistent, kind, generous to a fault, yet firm as well. I knew her for several years previous, but walked with her through the last three years of her life once she was diagnosed with ALS (Lou Gehrig's Disease). When she died I was devastated. She had been a sure anchor and well from which I drew often. I was very tempted to wall off my heart and never truly lean on anyone again...

Eventually, I asked a few wise ones for help, and one gave me a simple tool that helped more than anything. She told me to create some rituals that would help me settle down, especially at night when my sadness was the most acute. So I started playing the same CD each night, half an hour or so before I went to bed. I would then climb into bed as the last songs started playing, and eventually was able to fall asleep to the same song each night for weeks. I risk sounding like a Hallmark commercial when I tell you that it was an instrumental piano CD by Jim Brickman -- but there it is.

The last song actually had lyrics that functioned as road signs that walked me out of the pit I was in, because they put words to my groaning. Here is the chorus:

Until the stars fall from the sky
Until I find the reason why
And darling as the years go by
Until there's no tears left to cry
'Til the angels close my eyes
And even if we're worlds apart
I'll find my way back to you...
By heart.

This life is not all there is. Someday I will be reunited with these beloved people, in Christ, for eternity. I feel their absences so frequently. But I am glad that they each left such deep impressions that I cannot forget them. Meanwhile, I live as fully as possible in this earthbound life. My grief is not appeased by other relationships... instead, I simply press on and continue to learn about what it means to live this risky, yet worthwhile, life of love. Christ is my model, my strength, my goal.

Claire

I write with a heavy heart. The dreaded day has come. At about 5:45am this morning, my sweet friend Claire was finally released from the duties of her long fight with brain cancer.

I have known Claire since... golly, I've lost track, it's been so long. 1998 perhaps. She was a leader with me in youth group, and on the first team of summer interns I had with the church. She started dating Cameron, another leader, during those early years, and we all caused a lot of trouble together. I was with them in the emergency room that horrible day in June 2000 after she'd slipped and fallen at a end-of-school beach party. She had hit her head, got scraped up and was brought to the ER because she was still so disoriented. When the doctors told her it appeared she had a brain tumor, we were speechless. Yet she fought hard and had the upper hand for many years, through radiation, remission and rounds of chemo. It was a glorious celebration when she and Cam married on June 30, 2001. Clouds from the year before seemed to have parted, at least for the time being....

Claire thrived as a teacher, first at Santa Barbara Christian School and then at Santa Barbara High, where she received many accolades. Yet the cancer (oh, how I hate it) pressed on and started really gaining traction this year. It stole her strength, and in the last two months her ability to walk and talk. But in this final week it came quickly, thankfully.

In her last 48 hours she hovered between unconsciousness and sleep, and wasn't in pain. Family and close friends were able to say goodbye. I drove frantically home from a visit with family in the Monterey area, and was with her and Cam yesterday in the hospital.

Though we have certainly known this to be coming, it is still so hard to feel the blunt force of it. I find peace knowing that she was comfortable, and that Cam managed well through it all. Her beloved doctors and nurses on the oncology floor at Cottage Hospital, that she's known for years, gave her their consistently loving and gentle care. This was the best way it could happen, sad as that sounds.

I asked Cam how their last time together was. He smiled as he shared about eating dinner and both laughing hard throughout the DVD rental of the night - "Cop Out" with Tracy Morgan and Bruce Willis -- a classic Carey choice. He carried her to bed, where she proceeded to have a poor night's sleep.

Claire's departure was quiet. In her final 24 hours her breathing rattled as her lungs struggled to keep out the fluids. The nursing staff moved her every two hours through the night. Each time, Cam would awaken, hold her hand and watch her settle. Yet on this last move, her breathing became especially labored - she struggled for only a couple of minutes, then passed.

These are the words that come to mind this morning. They come from 2 Corinthians, chapters 4 & 5 -- in the JB Phillips translation:

4:7-11 - This priceless treasure we hold (the good news about life with Jesus), so to speak, in a common earthenware jar (our earthly bodies) - to show that the splendid power of it belongs to God and not to us. We are handicapped on all sides, but we are never frustrated; we are puzzled, but never in despair. We are persecuted, but we never have to stand it alone: we may be knocked down but we are never knocked out! Every day we experience something of the death of the Lord Jesus, so that we may also know the power of the life of Jesus in these bodies of ours. Yes, we who are living are always being exposed to death for Jesus' sake, so that the life of Jesus may be plainly seen in our mortal lives.
4:15-18 - We wish you could see how all this is working out for your benefit, and how the more grace God gives, the more thanksgiving will redound to his glory. This is the reason why we never collapse. The outward man (and woman) does indeed suffer wear and tear, but every day the inward man receives fresh strength. These little troubles (which are really so transitory) are winning for us a permanent, glorious and solid reward out of all proportion to our pain. For we are looking all the time not at the visible things but at the invisible. The visible things are transitory: it is the invisible things that are really permanent.
5:1-4 - We know, for instance, that if our earthly dwelling were taken down, like a tent, we have a permanent house in Heaven, made, not by man, but by God. In this present frame we sigh with deep longing for the heavenly house, for we do not want to face utter nakedness when death destroys our present dwelling - these bodies of ours. So long as we are clothed in this temporary dwelling we have a painful longing, not because we want just to get rid of these "clothes" but because we want to know the full cover of the permanent house that will be ours. We want our transitory life to be absorbed into the life that is eternal.

Claire has never flagged in her firm hope in the life eternal. I had several sweet times of talk and reading and prayer with her this summer about such things. I asked her two weeks ago how she felt about how things were progressing -- I offered "frustrated"? "scared"? "angry"? "confused"? and she shook her head no at each one. Yet she nodded a strong yes when I asked, "peaceful"?

My favorite comeback with Claire was "Now don't get red-headed on me!" as she stubbornly pushed back on things we were doing. Regardless of her amazing strength, she was unfailingly gentle, consistent and never pushy in her faith. I rejoice that she is safely in the arms of God, reunited with faithful, loving family and friends who have gone before her -- and jealous!

Claire lived a lovely life and and fought a classy fight. I shared with others this week that I have never been so thankful that this life is not all there is, as described in the verses above. She has her renewed body and blessed relief. That is good news. The greatest tribute any of us can give her is to allow her life to remind us of what really matters.

PS Here two AMAZING images of Claire - her beauty and grace are breathtaking:
http://www.zinkwazi.com/blog/1449/goodbye-sweet-claire
http://www.uctv.tv/search-details.aspx?showID=11818

We were changed by knowing you, Claire Michelle Carey. We miss you.