What I know I know January 23 2009

January 23 2009 

I have washed back and forth over the issue of why all this happened, or more to the point, what was God doing all the time while Ruth was dying. 

So, here it comes, the place where unshaking trust and honest questions come face to face. 

At the risk of offending both my Calvinist AND Armenian friends, I am coming to some answers that seem dichotomous; And somehow having the ability to see both sides and come out on the other side trusting God's goodness above all else. 

So, here goes... 

I fully expected her to walk out of the icu unit after she died. I really did. I was just waiting to watch God do something so crazy, yet indelibly consistent with his behaviour. When he leaves his mark there is no doubt who it was. 

So I expected her to peek around the corner and ask me to grab her a more modest gown, preferably pink, and definitely not brown. 

And then we would fill out paperwork on a reversal of death certificate, pay bills, grab a bite to eat and head back to the guest house where we were staying, and laugh the whole time. Amazed and thankful, and humbly grateful, yet downright giddy at the opportunity to get to know and be known by such a good God. 

It didn't happen. 

Rather disappointing. 

But even then, I didn't rant and rail. I remember I was a bit cheeky and told him he made a mistake in my estimation. He let one of the best of us die. She still had a lot to give. She had more glory to lay at his doing, not at her own. She was constantly giving him glory for how he used her for his purposes. And I asked 'why?'. A small 'why'. 

I still wonder. 

I love having such a diverse circle of friends. And there were a lot of them that reached out to us. 

People's comforting words tended to run two courses. One response pointed to the comfort found in trusting God who knows and plans and makes things happen for his glory, not necessarily our understanding. The other response told of the comfort found in trusting God who sees what happened and hurts with us and uses awful and wonderful things for his glory, not taking us from life to be with him, but certainly receiving us when we get there. 

And both understandings of God still allow that he is all powerful. One makes. One allows. Both can change plans. Both can bring back. 

But we know there aren't two Gods. There is just one. And the question we tend to fight over is which one is he? 

At least I have fought over that in my own mind. 

An analogy taken irreverently from one of Ruth's cooking escapades got me to thinking. 

I am the egg. And all the water in the pot has been boiled out. I feel scorched and dry and brittle. And I look around the pot and there isn't much left. There are friends in the pot. They feel much the same way. But most everything else is gone. Except for two very important ingredients. 

But I am not an egg. I am a man. And Ruth is gone. And life is sometimes scorched and dry and brittle. 

I almost said something this morning. I have always told people I wouldn't change the things that have happened in my life, because God has used them when I work with kids. Students have said they are going through certain things, and I can almost always respond, "I have been there. I know a bit about what you are going through", instead of just "Wow, that really stinks." It has been an incredible way to be used. I am so thankful for that. 

This morning I almost said I wouldn't change the fact that Ruth died, because God can use that too. But, I am not there yet. Almost, maybe, but not yet. 

Where I am is so hard. Not so much the tough emotions; intense sadness, guilt, loss, inability. Those are expected. I have tried hard not to run from them, but instead to sit with them, experience everything for what it is. I'm not sure as much healing would have occurred otherwise. 

What's hard is not knowing which ones are going to surface any given day; minute; thought. 

Just so tired of this. Ready to be whole. I don't mind the scars that will be left. Scars can come in handy. Good reminders so I don't try to just "move on". I hate that phrase. It connotes leaving something behind. There's a time for that for some experiences. This is not that experience. This goes with us, it is supposed to. It doesn't have to rule us, but it does need to be part of the traveling company. 

I'm so ready to feel normal again. To choose to be selfish as opposed to being incapable. To feel free to laugh all the time, and escape my introspective vacant stares that I have become accustomed to. Looking at nothing, for something. But often I don't even know what I'm looking for. Like when I misplace my keys and forget what I was searching for. 

Normal will be different. That's ok. And I think it will be much better than the unwelcome surprises my emotions keep springing on me. Please let it be so. 

Speaking of different, right now it is perplexing to be confronted with my old ways and my new traits. 

I like the new facets. I am different. And better in ways. I like the newing me. I just really want to get out of the refining fire. I am ready for the cooling, gentle shaping process. 

But if I rush it what will I turn into? Something less than I could be probably.  

So the pot is all boiled down, but there are two of God's characteristics that remain, two that I know that I know that I know. 

I know now better than ever before that God is good. I can't explain it, don't know what majestic sermon I learned it from, can't even really describe the passion I say that phrase with. Unshakeable though. It has been constant from the day she died.  

Friends are worth investing in. Much more than work, or interests. 

To take an example from my experience: I have learned a lot about myself on the basketball court. Some good things, much I am not proud of. Many areas where I need to let God work on me. Character is shown for what it really is on the inside when you lay everything out there and face the pressures and frustrations and elations of competition. I know too much about my integrity, my selfishness, my desire for community and teamwork, my intensity, my breaking points. It has revealed great material for God to use to shape me into his man. 

So basketball, and music and reading and working on cars and learning have all been great to help me grow and be grown… 

But friends, family, people we invest in and allow to invest in us (Pauls, Barnabases and Timothys). Those are vital. They go through the fire with us. They give big tall hugs. They are waiting at the airport when we go home or come home. They do things we can't do for ourselves. They listen and don't commend or condemn without leave. They hold us with God's arms and comfort us with God's tears and love us with God's love. 

These two things abide with me in the pot. That's it. 

God is good and God is love. 

It's nothing new. Older than dirt. But it's somehow truer now. More real. Like the velveteen rabbit. 

And all that other stuff I worry about, expectations, appearances, advancement; 

Even whether God planned or allowed Ruth to die. 

They all pale compared to the glory that remains. 

After all these years, I feel I actually know less about God. But what remains can be trusted. Implicitly. God is love and God is incredibly good. 

I'm not just counting on it. I’m living on it. And living in it.