“Yet now take courage,
O Zerubbabel, says the Lord; take courage,
O Joshua, son of Jehozadak, the high priest; take courage, all you people of the land, says the Lord; work, for I am with you,
says the Lord of hosts, 5according to the promise that I
made you when you came out of Egypt. My spirit abides among you; do not fear.
Douglas
P. deSilvey lived in Gulfport, Mississippi all his life. He lived there with his wife, daughter, and
his in-laws. To him, they were his
world. They did everything together, and
he considered himself a blessed man. In
an interview he said of his wife, daughter, and his mother-in-law, “These three women in my family have steered
my life for the past 59 years, to the man that I am today." So, when Hurricane Katrina hit, they did what
they had done for all the other storms – they went to his in-laws’ home because
it was on higher ground. They would ride
this one out and get back to normal. Shortly
after arriving at his in-laws, Douglas looked out at the bay and realized that
the waters were rising fast. Hurricane
Katrina had made landfall. Just as he
tried to warn his family of the danger that was imminent, the roof collapsed
killing his wife Linda, Donna his daughter, and his in-laws, Nadine and Ted.
Months later in
his StoryCorp recording, Douglas reflected on that event and said that he’s
asked God many, many questions about why he lost his family like that. He says that he hasn’t gotten any
answers. He just gets up every day and goes
to his job. But now, he has no one to work for, to plan for, to save for.
We don’t have to have experienced Hurricane
Katrina or any other natural disaster to know what devastation feels like; to
have one’s world turned upside down, the focus of our life taken away. Maybe it was a death, a divorce, an
unfavorable diagnosis. We’re left like
Douglas deSilvey asking questions and waiting for answers. And we’re also faced with the demand of
“moving on,” picking up whatever pieces we can find and rebuilding. ‘Moving on’ can be painful, almost
unconscionable to entertain, particularly when our memories act like floodwaters
that never seem to ebb. Birthdays and
holidays. Purchases and promises. Meals shared and plans made. What do we do with them? What
are we to do with the stuff of loss and how do we go forward?
“God doesn’t give us more than we can
bear.” “Time heals all wounds.” “Hang in there, you’ll get over this.” You’ve heard these statements and others like
them. And while they each may have a
grain of truth in them, they sting and ring hollow upon a grieving heart. But those were similar words of support
Haggai offered to the people of Judah.
He was trying to stir them up after they had been displaced by war. He
says, “Take courage.” “Be
courageous.” Start rebuilding the
Temple. We can do this! Wow, how flat that must have fallen on some
of their ears. “Easier said than done,
Haggai!” How were they supposed to do
that when the center of their life had been destroyed – The Temple? The Temple was the center of their religious,
cultural and national life. All the
markers that told them who they were, what they stood for, and what was
possible for them had been smashed to smithereens. Where was this courage supposed to
come from?
Nerve.
Pluck. Valor. Daring. Audacity.
Mettle. Resolution. Guts. It
goes by a dozen or so names. But, one
thing we would all probably agree upon is that courage only surfaces when we
are afraid. It usually doesn’t come when
we ask for it. It has come to me when I’ve been terrified; when I’m doing the
thing I’m afraid to do…to face…to say.
Looking back, courage has come to me in hushed tones, never in a lion’s
roar; telling me to stay with it just five more minutes. Courage has come to me in moments when
standing up was the only right thing to do; to stretch and expand my horizon
and re-examine how I define myself – by what things I define myself? The tears and suffering that accompany
courage ask me “What’s driving my life?”
“What’s driving your fear?”
Maybe the way to understand Haggai’s words
to those refugees of war was not Get a stiff upper lips, folks, but as
an invitation to see that our life in this world which is centered in the heart
of God is about soulwork – that sharpening of the inner ear, deepening
our capacity to
sense and see beyond our current frames of reference. This kind of being doesn’t happen overnight,
but over a lifetime. This is the work of
God; drawing us by the Spirit’s tether into the deeper life of God. A life that is not full of pat answers and
quick fixes. Who knows what life will be like after Tuesday? But take courage,
we will wake up the next day and God is in control. We are open to hearing what
new thing God will do in our life, and in the life of our nation and our world.
As high-handed as it may sound, pain and
ruin do not have to be the last words about our life. Loss and starting
over are opportunities to give birth to something new; a chance to recognize
that it is the Spirit of God who keeps us, and it is the people of God who help
us capture a vision of God’s plans for us.
Village Church, take courage. Accept
the invitation to discover what God wants to do in your life, in the life of
our congregation.
Response:
Are there reflections
or impressions that any of us would like to share in response to the topic, the
passage of scripture?
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