Tag: sadness

Facing Our Sadness (Psalm 42)

On By Tim EhrhardtIn Christian Spirituality Blog, Daily Bible Reading Blog, Year ALeave a comment

As a deer longs for a stream of cool water,
    so I long for you, O God.
I thirst for you, the living God.
    When can I go and worship in your presence?
Day and night I cry,
    and tears are my only food;
all the time my enemies ask me,
    “Where is your God?”

My heart breaks when I remember the past,
    when I went with the crowds to the house of God
    and led them as they walked along,
    a happy crowd, singing and shouting praise to God.
Why am I so sad?
    Why am I so troubled?
I will put my hope in God,
    and once again I will praise him,
    my savior and my God.

Here in exile my heart is breaking,
    and so I turn my thoughts to him.
He has sent waves of sorrow over my soul;
    chaos roars at me like a flood,
    like waterfalls thundering down to the Jordan
    from Mount Hermon and Mount Mizar.
May the Lord show his constant love during the day,
    so that I may have a song at night,
    a prayer to the God of my life.

To God, my defender, I say,
    “Why have you forgotten me?
Why must I go on suffering
    from the cruelty of my enemies?”
I am crushed by their insults,
    as they keep on asking me,
    “Where is your God?”

Why am I so sad?
    Why am I so troubled?
I will put my hope in God,
    and once again I will praise him,
    my savior and my God. (Good News Translation)

Sadness. Every human on planet earth knows the feeling. Since we are emotional creatures, profound sadness – even to the point of depression and/or despondency – will happen.

Despite the universal nature of discouragement and tears, many Christians buck the sadness. Far too many believers focus so exclusively on victory in Jesus through his resurrection, ascension, and glorification that they use religion as their denial when unwanted emotions like sadness come banging at the doorstep of their soul.

So, I most emphatically say: Depression is not sin. To be discouraged is not the Enemy. Experiencing sadness is neither wrong nor selfish. Quite the opposite, in fact.

It is necessary to sit with our emotions and feel the breadth and depth of them. Both our spiritual and emotional health come through an awareness and robust engagement with our feelings. To refuse to feel is to put the stiff arm to God.

The psalmist does anything but deny his feelings. He brings them before the Lord and spreads them out before the Divine. Why am I discouraged? Why am I restless? Why the sadness? Could it be that God has forgotten me? Where is the Lord? Is God angry with me? Are my troubles the result of divine wrath?

To blandly say we have never uttered or thought such questions is a telltale sign of denial. The bottom line for many folks is that they do not want to feel these emotions because it complicates their lives. Besides, discouragement and sadness hurt. “Why feel,” we reason, “when it only brings pain?”

Oh my, the avoidance of pain. And there is no pain quite like emotional and spiritual pain. Much like an open wound which needs a liberal application of painful peroxide, our spiritual wounds must sting with the salve of emotional feeling. Healing is neither cheap, easy, nor painless. It typically hurts like hell.

The psalmist’s own pain revolved around feelings of alienation from God, being cut off from fellow worshipers, and harassed by others around him. Understandably, he experienced despondency and loneliness. The psalmist wondered if anyone, including God, even cared what he was going through. In other words, he is desperate for God to show up.

Here’s a simple observation about this psalm: The psalmist did not get any answers to the several questions he posed. He even repeated them, to no avail. The only form of comfort the psalmist received was to remember what God had done in the past. Somehow, someway, this will help with the difficulties of the present.

There are times in life when we must recall what we know about God, ourselves, and others. If the Lord has delivered in the past, God can do it again. If others helped before, perhaps they will be present in the here and now. And just maybe, even likely, you and I will discover a resilient spirit within. We already possess everything we need to not only survive but to grow and thrive in life.

Hope arises from holding the big picture of the past, present, and future together at the same time. When present circumstances are difficult, and it appears we are about to be swallowed up into the now, we must hold the past and future along with it, in careful tension. Then, we shall find the enablement to keep going.

Trust in the future, and a confident expectation of hope is born from the trustworthiness of the past. A prayerful song in our heart will carry us through till our hope is realized.

Almighty and merciful God, you heal the broken-hearted, and turn the sadness of the sorrowful to joy. Let your fatherly goodness be upon all whom you have made. Remember in pity all those who are this day destitute, homeless, elderly, infirm, or forgotten. Bless the multitude of your poor. Lift up those who are cast down.

Mightily befriend innocent sufferers and sanctify to them the endurance of their wrongs. Cheer with hope all who are discouraged and downcast, and by your heavenly grace preserve from falling those whose poverty tempts them to sin. Though they are troubled on every side, suffer them not to be distressed; though they are perplexed, save them from despair. Grant this, O Lord, for the love of him who for our sakes became poor, your Son our Savior Jesus Christ.

From Infertility to Laughter (Genesis 21:1-7)

On By Tim EhrhardtIn Christian Spirituality Blog, Daily Bible Reading Blog, Year ALeave a comment

The Lord was attentive to Sarah just as he had said, and the Lord carried out just what he had promised her. She became pregnant and gave birth to a son for Abraham when he was old, at the very time God had told him. Abraham named his son—the one Sarah bore him—Isaac. Abraham circumcised his son Isaac when he was eight days old just as God had commanded him. Abraham was 100 years old when his son Isaac was born. Sarah said, “God has given me laughter. Everyone who hears about it will laugh with me.” She said, “Who could have told Abraham that Sarah would nurse sons? But now I’ve given birth to a son when he was old!” (Common English Bible)

Abram and Sarai had settled into an uncomfortable comfortableness. They lived in Ur of the Chaldees, childless and past child bearing years. I’m sure they expected to live out the rest of their days in the land they had grown up in.

But then, God shook up things. The Lord comes along and calls the two of them to leave their familiar country and go to a new land. Along with the calling came a promise of making them the progenitors of a great nation. And the heir would come from their own biological bodies.

It did not all happen at once. And there were lots of questions. Each time Abraham brought up the issue, God simply restated the promise (Genesis 13:16, 15:2-5, 17:5-6). Abraham and Sarah were (understandably) at some points impatient and took matters into their own hands – which is how we get Ishmael, a son from Sarah’s servant Hagar (Genesis 16).

After Hagar gave birth to Ishmael, God informed Abraham that his heir will be born from Sarah – which (again understandably) evoked laughter. It was downright far-fetched to imagine a 100-year-old man and a 90-year-old woman giving birth to a baby.

It turns out that infertility, even with an old woman, can be surmounted by God. So, anyone settling into an uncomfortable comfortableness may need to switch to a comfortable uncomfortableness of knowing that nothing is impossible with God – which is, of course, what the angel said to a young Mary about becoming pregnant without having been with a man. (Luke 1:26-38)

Plenty of couples today struggle to conceive – even with the availability of infertility treatments and assistive reproductive technologies. And some families still walk away without a child, and instead come away with thousands of dollars of debt. 

I am heartened that Abraham kept bringing up Sarah’s infertility issue to God. And the Lord was never silent about it, but remained adamant that the divine promise would come from the two of them together.

Individual Christians and churches tend to shy away from conversations about infertility. Yet, it’s something for which many people need spiritual and emotional support. Fertile couples may feel awkward talking to infertile couples, but it is very much needed. God didn’t remain silent, so let’s not keep quiet either.

It’s okay to talk about the struggles of infertility. Sometimes we need to name it as an experience of suffering seen and known by God. Many couples need to experience the presence of God and know God is with them in their struggle. For, indeed, God cares about the feelings of women experiencing infertility.

For many families with children, they have the luxury of discussing infertility as a theological issue. And they may offer easy solutions of prayer, or to simply ask for a miracle (as if the barren woman hadn’t already done that a thousand times). Yet, for females longing to carry a child full term, this is a very real problem which involves the whole person – and not only cerebral arguments.

It’s important that the stories and experiences of those who live with the pain and disappointment of infertility are heard by us, and what’s more, honored and lifted up. Women experiencing infertility need our support, and not our silence.

The Lord was attentive to Sarah. We can be attentive to the Sarah’s around us. The following are some ways we can do just that:

1. Validate their feelings

Many women with infertility do not share their struggles with family or friends. This secrecy may lead to feelings of depression, anxiety or low self-worth.  Asking open-ended questions like, “How can I best support you?” or, “What can I do for you during this time?” shows that you want to understand their situation and are willing to have helpful dialogue.

2. Ask, don’t assume

Constantly trying to figure out if someone is pregnant can be upsetting for a person with infertility. Just give them grace and space to talk. If you want to know something, ask. But never try to pull information out of another person.

3. Don’t minimize their situation

Statements such as, “It will happen soon enough” minimize the pain and sorrow a couple may be experiencing. And being overly positive about a situation does not help. Acknowledging the uncertainty is more helpful than giving a false sense of hope.

4. Don’t compare

Every person’s journey with infertility is different. Comparing someone’s situation with someone else’s can create stress and make them feel as if they’re doing something wrong.

Avoid statements such as: 

  • “I know a friend who…”
  • “Have you tried…”
  • “Maybe you should just…”
  • “Relax. All that stress is causing your infertility.”
  • “Why don’t you just adopt?”

5. Be thoughtful

If you have kids of your own, don’t complain. Things like lack of sleep from caring for a newborn can be painful reminders of what your infertile friend has not been able to have. Yet, that doesn’t mean avoiding your own situation. Be honest and real, but be thoughtful and sensitive. Let another be part of your life, while at the same time, asking about theirs.

6. Be involved

People don’t like to be excluded from knowing details about your experience with kids and want to be invited to important occasions. Let them decide what they want and can do.

If we learn to cry with others in their wondering and discouragement, we will be able to laugh with them when joy abounds. Just ask Sarah.

God of Life,
You fill what is empty,
You make abundant what is scarce,
You bring to bloom what is barren.

We ask your presence and care for all those who seek to be parents. Bless them with the conception, healthy delivery and joyful rearing of children made in your image and likeness. Dwell with them and console them as they wait for the gifts given in your good time.

With Sarah and Abraham, we are bold to pray. Amen.  

Holy Saturday (Psalm 31:1-4, 15-16)

On By Tim EhrhardtIn Christian Spirituality Blog, Daily Bible Reading Blog, Year ALeave a comment

In you, O Lord, I seek refuge;
    do not let me ever be put to shame;
    in your righteousness deliver me.
Incline your ear to me;
    rescue me speedily.
Be a rock of refuge for me,
    a strong fortress to save me.

You are indeed my rock and my fortress;
    for your name’s sake lead me and guide me;
take me out of the net that is hidden for me,
    for you are my refuge….

My times are in your hand;
    deliver me from the hand of my enemies and persecutors.
Let your face shine upon your servant;
    save me in your steadfast love. (New Revised Standard Version)

Holy Saturday is a quiet place sandwiched between the ignominy of the Cross and the celebration of Resurrection – a day of solitude, silence, and stillness. 

This isn’t a particularly popular day. People don’t rave about Holy Saturday. Many Christians haven’t even a thought that this day could have any significance. Yet, this very day has its place in the scheme of the Christian life.

Whenever Christians quickly jump to triumphal language about victory, and speak little-to-nothing about suffering, then we are left with a cheap grace which has been purchased with the counterfeit currency of velocity. 

Today is meant for us to get of our heads and wrap our hearts around the important reality that Jesus Christ was truly and bodily dead in the grave. 

It was real suffering on Good Friday, and it’s a real death on Holy Saturday. There’s no movement. All is silent and still. Jesus is in the solitude of a dark graveyard tomb. 

There’s no getting around this: If we want Resurrection Day with all its celebration and glory, then we cannot circumvent Holy Saturday with its quiet silence and somber sadness. 

Holy Saturday must be observed if we are to experience real and practical freedom from the bondage of shame. And shame is powerful. It keeps a person locked within themselves, alone with their secrets hidden far from others.

Far too often we may try and cope with our shameful words or actions through promising to work harder, pledging to have greater willpower, or complaining that life is unfair. None of this gets to the root of our shame.

Unlike guilt, which our conscience identifies as specific behaviors to repent of, shame is the message of our inner critic who obnoxiously decries that we are somehow flawed, not enough, and inherently lacking intelligence, courage, or volition.

Shame is the insidious mechanism which interprets bad events we experience as the result of our own badness. In other words, we didn’t just do something bad – we ourselves are bad. We reason (wrongly) that if we were good, bad things wouldn’t happen to us.

If that were true, we would need a serious re-interpretation of Jesus, who suffered terribly and was killed. In actuality, he’s lying in a cold grave because of the power of evil in the world, and not because he was personally culpable.

Shame is the vampire who lives in the shadows and feeds on secrets – which is why the posture of shame is to hide our face in our hands. If shame persists, we withdraw from others and experience grinding loneliness. 

Therefore, the path out of shame is to openly name our shame and tell our stories, that is, nailing the stake of vulnerability into the heart of shame, and exposing it to the light, causes it to disintegrate and vaporize.

In contrast to the unhealthy hiding of ourselves within prison walls of shame is seeking refuge and hiding ourselves in God. Even a cursory look at today’s psalm evidences an open and vulnerable person who wants nothing to do with shame. The psalmist unabashedly and without shame is quite forward in presenting his wants to God.

The psalms are meant for repeated use, to be voiced aloud again and again. In doing this simple activity, we shame-proof our lives. God’s face shines upon us and takes away the shadows of shame. It is no coincidence that Jesus forsook the shame of the cross through publicly uttering the words of this psalm: “Into your hands I commit my spirit.” (Luke 23:46)

Unchecked verbal violence will eventually lead to physical violence.

If wordy persecution comes from others, the primary tactic will most likely be shaming the people such persons want to control. Such enemies will frame a justification for violence because the people for whom they are leveling shame are “bad,” even “monsters.” If verbal persecution comes from within, the shame can reach a critical mass of suicidal ideation and perhaps outright attempts at ending one’s life.

We cannot long co-exist with the living death of shame. But the good news is that we don’t have to. Instead, we can live in the strong fortress and the rock of refuge which is God.

The Lord traffics in redeeming mercy and steadfast love, not in the demeaning judgment of shame. We can flee to God and find grace to help us in our time of need. There is no shame in reaching out for help. We all need deliverance from something. It’s a matter of whether we are open to ask for it, or not.

Holy Saturday is here for you to know that Jesus Christ absorbed all of the world’s massive shame, yesterday, on Good Friday. Christ died. And the shame he took on, died with him. It’s no more and will rise no more.

But someone will rise….

Father God, into your hands I commit my spirit – everything I am and all that I hope to be – so that Jesus Christ might be exalted in me through the power of your Holy Spirit. I choose to leave shame where it belongs – nailed to the cross. With your divine enablement, I shall walk in the newness of life through expressing my needs and wants with courage, confidence, and candor. May it be so according to your steadfast love. Amen.

Crisis and Care (1 Kings 19:1-8)

On By Tim EhrhardtIn Christian Spirituality Blog, Daily Bible Reading Blog, Year A1 Comment
Prophet Elijah by Mykhailo Boychuk, 1913

Now Ahab told Jezebel everything Elijah had done and how he had killed all the prophets with the sword. So Jezebel sent a messenger to Elijah to say, “May the gods deal with me, be it ever so severely, if by this time tomorrow I do not make your life like that of one of them.”

Elijah was afraid and ran for his life. When he came to Beersheba in Judah, he left his servant there, while he himself went a day’s journey into the wilderness. He came to a broom bush, sat down under it and prayed that he might die. “I have had enough, Lord,” he said. “Take my life; I am no better than my ancestors.” Then he lay down under the bush and fell asleep.

All at once an angel touched him and said, “Get up and eat.” He looked around, and there by his head was some bread baked over hot coals, and a jar of water. He ate and drank and then lay down again.

The angel of the Lord came back a second time and touched him and said, “Get up and eat, for the journey is too much for you.” So he got up and ate and drank. Strengthened by that food, he traveled forty days and forty nights until he reached Horeb, the mountain of God. (New International Version)

In a typical week, I see a variety of people. Here are just a few persons I’ve encountered recently:

  • A man who went for a routine doctor’s visit and was examined, then rushed to the hospital where he had his left leg amputated.
  • A woman who witnessed her son attempt to kill his wife by stabbing her multiple times.
  • A pastor’s spouse who is overwhelmed with the depth of human need and emotional trauma she sees every Sunday in her urban congregation.
  • A man who is bitter, refusing any sort of spiritual care or assistance at the end of his life.
  • A family who watches on, while their beloved mother and grandmother is slowly slipping into eternity.
  • A pregnant mother who is on total bed rest, downright frightened by not knowing what will happen, and if her baby will live or die.

We live in a fundamentally broken world. Everything is askew and awry, with people feeling the brunt of the things which are neither right, nor fair. The examples I highlighted are all, like the prophet Elijah of old, good people who have found themselves in the crosshairs of circumstances beyond their control. 

Their situations left them feeling a range of emotions: abject horror, terrible sorrow and sadness, shocking denial, sheer panic, and crippling shame. The sense of confusion, fragility, and powerlessness are palpable.

So, what in God’s name do we do when we are faced with trauma, either in ourselves or in people we care about? How do we keep going when it seems as if it takes far too much energy just to be myself and do the things I need to do?

A crisis or trauma turns our world upside-down. Things will never be the same again. Yet, it’s a unique opportunity for healing and growth. Whether you care for someone, or need care yourself, there are three questions that have arisen for me as I have gone through my own crises and talk with folks facing traumatic experiences.

Who are you?

It’s only human to question who we are whenever a crisis situation hits. Who is a man if he doesn’t have a literal leg to stand on? Who is a mother when her son commits an atrocity? Who is the pastor’s wife when she seems unable to meet needs? Who is the bitter man when his expectations are not met? Who is the family when their matriarch is gone? Who is a woman if she doesn’t have a child?

It’s not a simple question. And it can’t be quickly answered. Trauma throws doubt on who we thought we were before the crisis. It can expose the shadowy parts of our lives we didn’t know were there, or bring light to the reality that our lives were built on things which don’t last.

Suppose you are a caregiver, trying to offer help. If your goal is to make the person feel better, you’ll quickly find out that you are not God. You cannot fix people’s pain. Who are you if you can’t repair broken people and solve their problems? 

What do I do?

If you’re a caregiver, you take action – not by changing feelings – but through attending to the basic needs of the one in trauma. A crisis situation isn’t the time to explore emotions; it’s the time to feel them. 

While a person is experiencing grief on a monumental scale, offering thoughtful assistance with decision-making, organizing the mundane things of life, and handling necessary details, can be a loving way of bringing care and concern.

In our Old Testament lesson for today, God, the ultimate caregiver, was attentive to Elijah’s immediate needs by ensuring that he was able to rest and be well-fed.

For those facing a crisis or dealing with trauma, your task is to grieve. Allow compassionate people to do things for you. There’s no need of offering an apologetic for your emotions, tears, and troubles. If you’re the kind of person that’s been there for others, let them now be there for you.

How can I move on?

We move on through hope. We continue the journey of life with the confident expectation that it can be good again, even though it might not look like it now.

“Then I saw a new heaven and a new earth; for the first heaven and the first earth had passed away, and the sea was no more. And I saw the holy city, the new Jerusalem, coming down out of heaven from God, prepared as a bride adorned for her husband. And I heard a loud voice from the throne saying,

“See, the home of God is among mortals.
He will dwell with them;
they will be his peoples,
and God himself will be with them;
he will wipe every tear from their eyes.
Death will be no more;
mourning and crying and pain will be no more,
for the first things have passed away.”

And the one who was seated on the throne said, “See, I am making all things new.” Also he said, “Write this, for these words are trustworthy and true.” Then he said to me, “It is done! I am the Alpha and the Omega, the beginning and the end. To the thirsty I will give water as a gift from the spring of the water of life. Those who conquer will inherit these things, and I will be their God and they will be my children. (Revelation 21:1-7, NRSV)

Hope comes from a place of genuine care and not from the posture of trying to hurry yourself or another person along in their emotions because we are unsettled with such grinding grief.

Some people are uncomfortable with seeing their loved one or friend in a state of vulnerability. So they withdraw, or try and get them to short-circuit their grief and get over it sooner than they should. 

There is strength in weakness, and power in vulnerability. True love is a mystery. There are times when we must give up our analysis of events and people, and simply appreciate what is right in front of us. Letting go of control can open to us a whole new world of possibility, creativity, and hope.

Faith is the ability to look ahead and see hope on the horizon. When a community of people strengthen faith in one another through the spiritual means of listening, prayer, active compassion, thoughtful words, and healing presence, then that group of persons has discovered what it means to share the human condition and be a caring presence.