Tag: weakness

Be Patient – Third Sunday of Advent (James 5:7-10)

On By Tim EhrhardtIn Christian Spirituality Blog, Daily Bible Reading Blog, Year A1 Comment
Sunset in Montmartre, by Vincent Van Gogh, 1887

Be patient, therefore, brothers and sisters, until the coming of the Lord.

The farmer waits for the precious crop from the earth, being patient with it until it receives the early and the late rains. You also must be patient.

Strengthen your hearts, for the coming of the Lord is near.

Brothers and sisters, do not grumble against one another, so that you may not be judged. See, the Judge is standing at the doors! 

As an example of suffering and patience, brothers and sisters, take the prophets who spoke in the name of the Lord. (New Revised Standard Version)

Patience is a wonderful virtue… unless you’re smack in the middle of circumstances you neither want nor asked for. Then, patience feels a whole lot more like a vice.

It’s easy to be impatient; it takes little to no effort at all. And praying for patience doesn’t help, because you’re prayer actually gets answered; God puts you in one of those unwanted situations.

The Jewish Christians for whom the Epistle of James was addressed were in that weird life-place of enduring hard circumstances. They were struggling with impatience, so much that the believers began cozying up to the rich and powerful to meet their ever-increasing needs. In their misery, they were looking to the very people who were using them and withholding wages from them. (James 2:1-7; 5:1-6)

It seemed as if God was shuffling his divine feet and not getting around to helping the Christians in their difficulty. They gave everything to Jesus and following him, to the point of being willing to suffer for the Name.

Their suffering led to outright persecution. The believers had to flee Judea for Gentile lands to the West (Acts 8:1-3). In their new homes they got double-trouble. Because they were Jews, they were looked at with suspicion. And because they were Christians, the Jewish community didn’t accept them. The believers were truly alone. All they had was Jesus.

It was enough, at least for a while. But it’s one thing to face difficulty, and quite another thing for the trouble to bleed into next week, next month, next year… When is this ever going to end?

Impatience doesn’t help. In fact, it only exacerbates an already agonizing situation. Grumbling and arguing and verbal fights begin to occur. The community starts to fracture. Blaming and shaming slowly replace the love and encouragement they once had together.

Every good thing in life takes time – lots of time! And the best things in life require a lifetime of endurance, perseverance, and patience. In order to keep going and hold onto our spiritual commitment, we need solid examples of patience, and reasonable ways to think about our situations.

I admit that it has been hard for me to be patient, as of late. I’m weary of American politics and the current administration. I’m tired of seeing my family members struggle with health issues day after day – many of them having to endure debilitating and heart-wrenching trials.

And there are some days when I’ve just had it with my own limitations. I can’t do many of the things I used to do, and it’s frustrating to tears to try and do some things that others do effortlessly.

Yet the Scripture reminds me of my days growing up on the farm. Planting and harvesting never happened in a week; it takes months to realize a return on all the hard work done through the Spring and Summer to get to Fall’s mature crop.

Peasants Planting Potatoes, by Vincent Van Gogh, 1884

I’m also reminded of the biblical prophets who suffered much for their message to the people. Lately, I’ve been reading the prophecy of Ezekiel in the Old Testament. If you have never read Ezekiel, or only read bits of it, you may not realize how incredibly difficult Ezekiel’s life was in serving Yahweh.

The prophet kept up a steady stream of very challenging situations to illustrate the message of judgment he was continually giving. Needless to say, Ezekiel was not always a popular guy. Proclaiming gloom, doom, and death all day every day tends to do that. In one encounter, for month after month, the prophet laid on his side and had to use excrement to light a fire and cook his food every day. God told him to, so that the people would see what was about to happen to them. (Ezekiel 4:1-17)

We have no record of Ezekiel grumbling or talking back to God. He faithfully did all that the Lord commanded him to say and do. He endured all the grumblers around him, and all the grieving people who had been displaced from their homes in Jerusalem.

In every generation, there are people in this world that undergo difficulties and troubles which others could never even imagine. And it’s been going on for millennia. Furthermore, terrible adversity will keep happening… until Christ returns.

Yes, there will be an end to all the suffering. But we may have to persevere to the end of our lives, remaining faithful to our spiritual commitment, and keeping up our love for one another. It won’t be easy to do.

I would be nothing but a hack preacher if I told you that everything will be bunnies and butterflies if you only look to Jesus and have faith. Although there can be joy, even in our mourning, there will always be the need for an agonizing form of patience that continually watches for help, healing, and hope in the return of Christ.

This is why it is so important not to let your own family, church, and faith community break down into fissures of impatience and grumbling.

We must keep our hearts strong. Ironically and paradoxically, that happens through our weakness.

In some ways, I’m weaker than I’ve ever been in my life. Yet, in other ways, I’ve never been stronger. The Trump administration can break me down and mess with my healthcare and my finances… my illness can keep me from ministry that I long to do… and the daily crud of life may redirect me in ways I don’t like… but I can truly say that God is good; God is the strength of my life.

I know that Christmas is coming. I’m looking for the birth of the Savior. I expect to see the angels rejoicing in the sky. I fully look forward to stepping in a few cow pies and horse apples in order to get a glimpse at the baby who changes the world.

Every good thing in life comes with a bit of manure on the shoes. And the best things in life are worth all the hardship one goes through in order to see the glory and majesty of the Divine.

I may not know you, my friend, but please know that I am praying for you. No matter what happens, I can always pray, always watch, always hope, always believe, and always love my neighbor, despite all the hate in this old fallen world.

Be safe. Be strong. Be spiritual. We are all in this life together.

God of joy and exultation, you strengthen what is weak; you enrich the poor and give hope to those who live in fear. Look upon our needs this day. Make us grateful for the good news of salvation and keep us faithful in your service until the coming of our Lord Jesus Christ, who lives forever and ever. Amen.

“Oh, That My Words Were Recorded” (Job 19:23-27a)

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

“Oh, that my words were recorded,
    that they were written on a scroll,
that they were inscribed with an iron tool on lead,
    or engraved in rock forever!
I know that my redeemer lives,
    and that in the end he will stand on the earth.
And after my skin has been destroyed,
    yet in my flesh I will see God;
I myself will see him
    with my own eyes—I, and not another. (New International Version)

The biblical character Job expressed a feeling that all of us, at one time or another, have likely felt: Longing for someone to actually hear our voice, our words of grief, listen to them, and not let them fall into oblivion as if we were alone on this earth.

Job was hurting like no one before or after him. His grief was palpable. His pain was deep and intense. Not knowing what the heck was going on, he had zero understanding of why complete calamity came upon him.

Job’s family was killed, all but his wife. He lost all his earthly possessions to either theft or disaster. And his body was wracked with painful sores that covered his entire body. He was as miserable as one person could be. It was grief stacked upon grief.

In that misery and pain, after losing everything, Job didn’t want his words to be lost. He wanted them to be heard and remembered. Job needed to know that his voice was real, that he was not just speaking into the air.

This gets to the heart of what every grieving person likely wants: For someone to listen to their story of loss – for that story to be heard, listened to, and taken seriously.

I know the feeling. And I know it a bit more intimately than I would like to.

In this past year I was diagnosed with a health disorder that prevented me from continuing to work in a job I absolutely loved. This precipitated a move to another state to be near family. And there are many more losses and griefs to go along with all the changes in my life.

Going through circumstances that we neither asked for nor wanted is hard, especially when it involves significant losses. Without facing our grief, like Job did, we may end up losing ourselves and becoming lost or stuck in that grief.

Rather than me blithering on about the need for vulnerability, I myself will be vulnerable. One of the ways I accept, cope, and transcend hard stuff is through journaling. Here is a portion of my journal from today, unedited:

“I can feel myself sinking down toward the abyss. The darkness is beginning to overwhelm me. Everything – the changes, the transitions, the grief, the state of all things – is too much.

“Lord, have mercy.

“And so, I write, in the hope that my grief and big feelings of loss and of lostness will somehow fade into the background – not the foreground – of my life. Yes, it’s all a part of me. A very important part. And I never want to disavow it. Yet, it is only a part, and not the whole of me.

“Maybe that’s the thing I need to know and remember this day – that grief is not all of me; doesn’t define me as a person; and need not rule my life. There is some sort of ‘sweet spot’ in all this, in which I vulnerably and forthrightly acknowledge and talk about my grief without stuffing it away into an internal junk closet. But also, I do not necessarily focus on it as if grief is all that I am.

“Rather, I’m (like all other people) a complicated soul made up of many moving spiritual and emotional parts.

“It is ironic that a guy who once talked to grieving people on a daily basis is now grieving the loss of no longer talking to grieving people on a daily basis. Yet, here I am.

“One of the reasons I derived so much fulfillment from doing grief work with others is that it is so very much needed! I live in a society where everyone wants you to be okay, likely because they themselves are so very uncomfortable with grief and don’t know what to do with it. So, many people simply want everyone to be ‘normal,’ whatever the heck that actually means.

“Loss is painful, and no one (including me) wants to hurt. But the pain won’t go away magically. I (and everyone) must face the hurt, walk into and through the pain in order to feel better.

“To open-up to the unique pain of loss is the only way to realize emotional healing. In order to move on, we’ve got to stop trying to move on. Instead, let it out.

“In writing this I’m reminding myself what I’ve told hundreds of patients and parishioners who were going through their own unique circumstances of painful loss. Strength is found in embracing weakness, and not by trying to soldier on as if loss doesn’t bother me. It’s okay to grieve. And it’s okay to grieve any sort of loss. It’s more than okay; it’s absolutely needed.”

Eternally righteous God, merciful judge of all the living: In your love you called us to share the glory of Christ. Strengthen our hearts in every good work and word, so that we may be steadfast in your ways and always believe your truth. Amen.

Feeling the Pain (Job 23:1-9, 16-17)

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

Then Job answered:

“Today also my complaint is bitter;
    his hand is heavy despite my groaning.
Oh, that I knew where I might find him,
    that I might come even to his dwelling!
I would lay my case before him
    and fill my mouth with arguments.
I would learn what he would answer me
    and understand what he would say to me.
Would he contend with me in the greatness of his power?
    No, but he would give heed to me.
There the upright could reason with him,
    and I should be acquitted forever by my judge.

“If I go forward, he is not there;
    or backward, I cannot perceive him;
on the left he hides, and I cannot behold him;
    I turn to the right, but I cannot see him….

God has made my heart faint;
    the Almighty has terrified me.
If only I could vanish in darkness,
    and thick darkness would cover my face. (New Revised Standard Version)

Here is Job, sitting on an ash heap, of all things, and feeling like an ash. His children are gone, all killed by tragic circumstances. His wealth is no more. And now he is lamenting, because he can do nothing else; he has painful nasty sores covering his body that won’t let him do anything.

Job and his friends, by Ilya Repin (1844-1930)

And if that isn’t enough, Job’s “friends” come and end up giving him unhelpful speeches about how all this suffering is really his fault. They reasoned (wrongly) that there must be loads of sin in Job’s life for him to be going through such horror. God is punishing him, they insist.

Job’s companions had initially started out well. For seven days they sat with him in silence (Job 2:13). But then, after a week had passed, they just couldn’t take it anymore. They had the compulsion to speak. And when they opened their mouths, it was merely a bunch of ignorant gobbledygook.  

The friends, the companions, were themselves having an existential theological crisis. Their worldview was being challenged and threatened. So, rather than be open-minded and consider that their views may need to be altered, the friends acted like enemies, accusing Job of sin.

At issue was their clear and clean theology of believing that good guys are blessed with wealth, health, and happiness; and bad guys are cursed with poverty, illness, and misery – like Job.

They could not imagine or entertain the thought that God would let a good person suffer like Job was suffering. Therefore, Job must be bad, and they tried to find that hidden sin within him  to which he must repent of.

Yet, in truth, not all suffering – even terrible grinding suffering – is the result of personal sin or bad decision-making. Sometimes, good people suffer horribly, too.

Times may change, but people throughout the ages don’t. Today, we still think along the same lines as the companions of Job. There is far too much blaming of victims for their victimization; and way too many flippant beliefs which say to others in a terrible situation things like, “You reap what you sow.”

Job, through all of the loss, tragedy, and then suffering from his friends, held onto his integrity. Even though Job knew his situation was undeserved, he did not curse God, nor his friends.

Job made the incredible claim that suffering is not always the result of one’s personal sin – something he himself might not have said before his tragic experiences.

But just because Job did not curse, does not mean he was nice and okay with what unfolded in his life. He wished he was never born. He felt like death would be preferable to living. He contended with God, and longed for justice. His ultimate wish was that God would just speak and say something, anything.

Job was hurting so terribly, that he had bitter words of despair for God. He could make absolutely no sense of what was happening. He could not understand why he was the brunt of so much suffering. It felt like God was attacking him, and he said so.

The silence and absence of God were palpable for Job. He longed to speak with God. And his greatest lament – out of all the reasons to lament – was the horrible feeling of being alone without God’s presence and consolation.

It is interesting that we have no mention in the story about Job’s friends speaking directly to God, or praying to God, or addressing God in any way.

They certainly felt free to tell Job who God is, and how God operates in the world. But there was never any intercession for their friend, and no words of crying out to God on behalf of Job. There was only words of rebuke and chastisement, words of hurt that were as painful as the physical sores on his body

The phrase I hear most often from people speaking to the person in grief and pain is, “You just need to be strong.” And a close second is, “Everything happens for a reason.” The latter phrase is simply unhelpful, and the former phrase is actually hurtful.

It is not a sin to be weak. Just in case you read that sentence too quickly, I will say it again: It. Is. Not. A. Sin. To. Be. Weak!

We understand that when someone breaks a bone, they’ll be limited with weakness for a while. And we make helpful accommodations to that effect. But when someone’s heart is broken, and their life emotionally shredded, we expect them to be strong for everyone else around them.

It may be true that everything happens for a reason, yet most of the time, none of us knows the reason why we’re going through what we’re going through. And we probably won’t, this side of heaven.

If we try to have explanations for everything, then we join the company of Job’s companions who had to try and understand what was happening. And their conclusions were very wrong.

However, there is nothing wrong with weeping with those who weep; and expressing pain, grief, and even anger – both for the one who laments, and those who lament with them.

Pain cannot be relieved unless it is acknowledged, affirmed, and addressed by both the one who suffers and the community who surrounds them.

Where there is lament, there are loud words and expressions of grief. When lament is said to God, then God can hold that person, and rock them in the arms of mercy.

But silence is agonizing. We need friends who will listen and grieve with us. It is vital to have companions who voice to God what we cannot voice in our weakness. All of us, together, must hold onto God, and trust that the Lord hears, and will answer.

As Jesus cried out on the cross, I cry out to you in pain, O God my Creator. Do not forsake me. Grant me relief from this suffering and preserve me in peace; through Jesus Christ my Savior, in the power of the Holy Spirit. Amen.

Nothing Makes Sense (Ecclesiastes 1:1-18)

On By Tim EhrhardtIn Christian Spirituality Blog, Daily Bible Reading Blog, Year BLeave a comment
Statue of “The Thinker,” by Auguste Rodin, 1880. Photo by Robert Reynolds.

When the son of David was king in Jerusalem, he was known to be very wise, and he said:

Nothing makes sense!
Everything is nonsense.
    I have seen it all—
    nothing makes sense!
What is there to show
for all of our hard work
    here on this earth?
People come, and people go,
but still the world
    never changes.

The sun comes up,
    the sun goes down;
it hurries right back
    to where it started from.
The wind blows south,
    the wind blows north;
round and round it blows
    over and over again.
All rivers empty into the sea,
    but it never spills over;
one by one the rivers return
    to their source.

All of life is far more boring
    than words could ever say.
Our eyes and our ears
are never satisfied
    with what we see and hear.
Everything that happens
    has happened before;
nothing is new,
    nothing under the sun.
Someone might say,
    “Here is something new!”
But it happened before,
    long before we were born.
No one who lived in the past
    is remembered anymore,
and everyone yet to be born
    will be forgotten too.

I said these things when I lived in Jerusalem as king of Israel. With all my wisdom I tried to understand everything that happens here on earth. And God has made this so hard for us humans to do. I have seen it all, and everything is just as senseless as chasing the wind.

If something is crooked,
    it can’t be made straight;
if something isn’t there,
    it can’t be counted.

I said to myself, “You are by far the wisest person who has ever lived in Jerusalem. You are eager to learn, and you have learned a lot.” Then I decided to find out all I could about wisdom and foolishness. Soon I realized that this too was as senseless as chasing the wind.

The more you know,
    the more you hurt;
the more you understand,
    the more you suffer. (Contemporary English Version)

There’s an awful lot of nonsense in this old world. Arguably, the wisest person who ever lived, King Solomon, said that everything is nonsense, and all things are meaningless.

That’s probably why the Book of Ecclesiastes isn’t at the top of most people’s reading list. Admittedly, in many ways, it’s a depressing read.

Yet, maybe we are being led to consider that it really isn’t our task or purpose to understand everything in this world. After all, if a wise guy like Solomon didn’t make heads nor tails of it all, why in tarnation would you or I try to do so?

This doesn’t mean we don’t understand anything; it just means that we don’t have the ultimate answers on the universe’s workings. And if we try to have perfect knowledge of all things, it will be a fool’s errand. That’s because only God has ultimate understanding and perfect knowledge of everything and everyone.

So then, what do we do? Glad you asked. We accept our limitations, and thereby, it is likely we will gain more understanding than any other way we try.

Meister Eckhart, a medieval Catholic monk, had some sage observations in this short poem:

What is the prayer

of a heart loosed

from all the things

that crowd our lives

and worry our minds

from day to day?

it is coming to that

place within us where

not knowing is the

mark of faith,

not wanting

the work of hope,

and not demanding

the gift of love.

Meister Eckhart talked of acceptance, and letting go of expectations. Learning to allow things to go as they will go, to be okay with not always having to have answers for everything, and refusing to control people and outcomes, is not only the path to acceptance, but is also the way of peace and less anxiety.

Likely, the best that we can do every day is to show up, pay attention, speak the truth in love, and don’t be married to the consequences.

If we can accept our limitations and weaknesses, and embrace the mysteries of life, then a whole world of discernment and wisdom can open to us within the narrow scope of our very mortal lives.

Indeed, we can find a sense of satisfaction and happiness in who we are, and what our place is in this very big world. Yet, this only comes with some significant struggle. Taking the easy path only results in cheap counterfeit contentment.

We will need to become comfortable with mystery and paradox, the knowledge that comes with not knowing, and upside-down theology. These are our keys to the secrets of life.

We must rid ourselves of the idea that Scripture is merely a life map that shows how and where to live. Holy Scripture may be a map, yet, it will point us in directions we may not want to go; and may even tell us to be in two places at once.

To try and make the Bible neat and tidy, with clear answers to modern day questions, is probably why such persons avoid the Book of Ecclesiastes as if it were the plague.

In reality, Ecclesiastes is a book that stands the orderly nature of life on its end. It is the scriptural place where playing by the rules and believing the right things won’t give you the good life you’re searching for.

Eventually, everyone encounters a dark night of the soul in which the death of a loved one, a failed relationship, or the loss of health turns our neatly ordered world upside-down to the point where we don’t recognize who we are, or what the world really is anymore.

These are times when our platitudes of simple faith are impotent to help us. Trust and belief are still important and vital, but they are no longer as understandable and intelligible as they once were.

It is imperative in these times that we doubt and question things; and even question God. A genuine robust faith is one that has been gained by plodding through the muck of anger, and even depression.

Authentic belief is neither cheap nor easy. It engages more than a few mental thoughts; it also goes to the heart and the gut, often with heart-rending emotions and gut-wrenching insights.

The Book of Ecclesiastes is a book for all of us. But it must not be read lightly nor flippantly. It’s contents need to be grappled with. Simply reading the last page of the book and making a faith declaration from that place will not only get you nowhere, it is also potentially damaging.

Only engage this material if you are brave enough, have some chutzpah within you, and are willing to reconsider and perhaps let go of all previous settled ideas about how the world is, or at least, how it should work.

So, if you want some quick answers to life’s meaning and purpose, Ecclesiastes is not the place to look. There are plenty of charlatans out there who would be happy to give you such information.

But if you are searching for something real and authentic, genuine and lasting, then be prepared for a tough, yet fruitful, slog through the “meaningless” meanderings of Ecclesiastes.

Only the courageous and the vulnerable should enter.

O God, I am very sorry that I have sinned against you and for all the wrongs I have done and the good I have not done. Forgive me, and grant me strength and wisdom to amend my life.

I offer you praise and thanksgiving, for creation and all the blessings of this life, for redemption, faith, and love; and for the means of grace and the hope of glory. Amen.