May 19, 2018

Show the World Jesus

Jesus wept. – John 11:35

It happened again. That which we vowed wouldn’t, did. Students ran for their lives as a student-gunman aimed to kill those in a place that should have been safe.

Shootings within our schools simply shouldn’t happen. But they do. Why? Our hearts cry out in anguish. It is so senseless. Young lives cut short. A teacher gone too soon. Others suffering in hospitals. Lives that will relive the trauma forever.

Jesus wept. It’s the shortest verse in the Bible. It’s very simplicity draws us closer to the One who came to save us all. Jesus had the power to save Lazarus from death. And though He knew He would raise His friend from the dead, still Jesus let Lazarus die. He let Mary and Martha suffer.

But Jesus is not a Savior from a distance. He stands beside us to comfort and strengthen us when the senseless dramas of this world threaten to destroy us. He mourns with us.

Why did this happen? How can we stop it from happening again? I wish I had all the answers but I don’t. No one does. Is this pure evil or does it stem from the brokenness of people who are hurting so badly that they want others to hurt badly too?

Our mental health system fails kids every single day. So do the social service agencies designed to keep them safe. We are so focused on saving the family that we send children back again and again to places where they aren’t safe and nurtured and loved. We ignore obvious signs of distress because we don’t want to get involved and we don’t want to provide the resources to help children who are hurting. We’d rather look the other way than deal with the stigma called mental illness.

I don’t know this young man’s story. All the details haven’t begun to show themselves. Maybe we will never know it all. But I do know that a young man wearing a trench coat in the Texas heat should raise a few questions. It’s not normal. It’s not okay.

We’d rather not know. We prefer to isolate ourselves in our own little worlds rather than extend a helping hand. We prefer to talk with our friends, to gather with those who are like us, than welcome someone who is different, someone who is alone. We marginalize people who desperately need to belong somewhere, to someone.

Maybe the answer isn’t in big programs with lots of money thrown at them. Maybe the answer lies a little closer to home. Maybe it’s found in our hearts. Can we be the people who extend kindness to those who seem the least deserving? Can we reach out to those we don’t particularly like so that they can come to the altar of Christ?

It all begins with Jesus. It all ends there too. We have forgotten how to love the lost, the lonely, the poor and the rejected. We have forgotten that they are our problems, our challenges, our responsibility, because Jesus said it was so. Jesus told us to love one another. Why do we think He didn’t mean us?

Once again we have children hurting, parents grieving and a town shattered by violence. Instead of looking to others for answers, maybe it’s time we looked inside ourselves. Ask Jesus to meet you there. Open your eyes and your heart. People everywhere are hurting. Extend a helping hand. Show them Jesus by your words and your actions. Live your faith, one hurting person at a time.

Thursday, February 23, 2012

Jesus Understands Our Grief

Jesus wept. -- John 11:35 (NIV)

It was a day of grief. The day after always seems to be that way. The first day, the first moments, are filled with shock and prayers and people holding on. Then come the silent moments where you can no longer hider from the awful truth.

Co-workers gathered round, talking, sharing stories, remembering. One said he hadn’t slept at all the night before. He worked next to the man killed in a motorcycle accident while on his way home for lunch. Even in the daylight hours, he kept talking to his friend. Then he’d realize his friend wasn’t there and a fresh wave of grief would descend.

Another, with tears in his eyes, couldn’t believe it. He thought maybe the man had taken a nap and overslept. He’d done that before and this man, his supervisor, had covered for him. He had that way about him. A quick smile and eagerness to learn that made everyone like him. His supervisor said he wished the man had overslept. He wished anything other than what had really happened.

Their boss recalled the moment she’d walked into the room where his wife sat with a chaplain. She’d had trouble finding her or getting any information. In the hospital’s misguided attempts to protect the new widow, they’d isolated her from people who cared. She noted that the woman had rushed to her and hugged her tightly and wouldn’t let go. A friendly face in a world that had suddenly gone dark. A compassionate person who understood at least some of her grief.

The morning brought its own challenges. A wedding ring left in a tool box had to be retrieved. Employees had to be comforted. An empty work space had to be avoided. It echoed too much of loss, of laughter that would never return.

The whys are only now beginning to emerge. Why do some people in motorcycle wrecks survive and some die? Why does God spare some people and take others without a moments notice? I have no answers. Was it simply a tragic collision of vehicles piloted for people entrusted with free will? Or was it something greater, a part of God’s plan that we’ll one day see and understand?

Maybe it only comes down to knowing that God is with us on this horrible journey. Maybe what matters most is that He sees, He knows, He understands. We remember that one time Jesus lost a friend and He wept.

And now, brothers and sisters, I want you to know what will happen to the Christians who have died so you will not be full of sorrow like people who have no hope. For since we believe that Jesus died and was raised to life again, we also believe that when Jesus comes, God will bring back with Jesus all the Christians who have died. -- 1 Thessalonians 4:13-14 (NLT)

It’s what we hold on to during these