Tags
ambiguity, anxiety, comfort, crisis, expectations, God, hurricane, Jesus, plans, strength, waiting
Photo credit: http://www.makemommygosomethingsomething.com/2016/03/25/the-waiting-room/
The last few days have been marked by two contrasts in our family. The first was a broken bone for one of our children. What had been planned was a relaxed dinner of my daughter’s favorite meal, some homework, an early bedtime, and some evening chores. Instead, what happened was scarfed down meals, scooping up of activities for the waiting room, dividing up of the children with parents, and a long evening of x-rays, diagnoses, and treatment. After putting the patient to bed, then followed the flurry of emails to teachers, coaches, and parents to cancel classes, rearrange plans, and arrange for care. Basically, the experience was a classic experience of dealing with an unexpected crisis, the adrenaline that helps you manage everything, and the upending of expectations.
Also happening this week is the opposite experience. Our region is intently watching the weather forecast as a large, destructive hurricane is approaching the East Coast. Unlike an immediate crisis, the build-up is much slower with a hurricane. We can see several days out that the storm is coming. We can ascertain from previous experiences with hurricanes what sorts of supplies we should have on hand. Some areas are being evacuated in preparation, and schools have closed. But unlike an immediate crisis, this kind of crisis is like waiting for a crisis in slow motion. And these kinds of storms also involve much more ambiguity: the storm could create massive damage and even death, or the storm could take a different path, destroying other areas, but leaving our area less impacted. Instead of adrenaline, clarity, and decisiveness, this crisis involves lots of planning, worrying, and waiting.
As I have held these two experiences in tension this week, I have begun to see spiritual parallels. Often, we relegate our relationship with God to crisis mode. We lean into God when we need God, but most of our days are spent doing the work we have been given and are equipped to do without thinking much about God. But in a situation where there is a long wait with an uncertain outcome: a marriage that is struggling, a friend with a cancer diagnosis, an economy that puts one’s future in jeopardy – we find leaning into God more difficult. When we lean into God during ambiguous times, we not only have to share all our ourselves with God (the hurt, the doubt, the fear, the anger), we also become much aware of how little control we have in this world. Ambiguity in life tests our relationships with Jesus more than just about anything in life.
This week, my prayer for all of us is that we push against of our natural patterns. Instead pulling away from God in ambiguity, my prayer is that you might saddle up next to God and give the anxiety that ambiguity creates back to God. I promise that God can handle the weight of your anxiety. And in freeing you up from some of that anxiety, you might be able to offer that same comfort to a neighbor, friend, or stranger. I know God will give us strength to support one another once this storm hits. We will do the work we need to do. In the meantime, my prayer is that we help one another lift the burden of waiting. God is with us!
In 1966, in light of the Cuban Revolution and the political response of the United States, the House of Bishops voted to separate from the Diocese of Cuba from the Episcopal Church, leaving it an autonomous diocese without a provincial home. The clergy scattered, some returning or immigrating to the US, but some who remained in Cuba were imprisoned, executed, or disappeared; priests lost their pensions, and they operated in isolation from the Church. Cuba officially requested to be reaffiliated with the Episcopal Church and was given a list of requirements before admission. As of GC79, all of those conditions had been met. However, leading up to the resolution coming to the floor of both the Deputies and Bishops, there was controversy on what it would mean, how this admission might impact the admission of other Dioceses (or their exit), how to affirm already elected bishops (assuming they had not followed the current practices of approval for bishops in the Episcopal Church), among other concerns. In other words, there was a desire to right the wrong done 52 years ago, but some anxiety about the implications of the decision.
This Saturday our parish has its Annual Fall Fair – a festive gathering with vendors, food, children’s activities, raffles, and other fall merriment. We are blessed with an 11-acre property, so the event is a wonderful way for us to welcome people to our grounds and remind the community that they are welcome here. Having done this event for so many years, most of our parishioners know what needs to be done – signs, publicity, donors, coordinating vendors, setting up the property, making baskets, bringing in donations. The list goes on. But even though we all know what needs to be done, there is usually a bit of anxiety and stress to make sure the event is a success, especially in the week leading up to the event. As someone who can become easily stressed, I totally understand the reaction. Though I am not involved in the execution of the event, I always empathize with our parishioners as the tension builds in this final week.
This month has been one of those months at church that has been super busy. Three out of four Saturdays have had events, and Sundays have been full too. That alone can be exhausting, as many of us have commiserated. But I was thinking about it today, and the truth is that all of the things we are doing are a big deal. I think that some of our exhaustion is not just because our weekends have been full, but that the things that have been filling our time are emotionally and spiritually significant.
I have been pondering for the last ten days what to say about the experience of Hurricane Sandy. I think I felt overwhelmed because I knew that my experience was not as bad as thousands of others in our area. My experience felt superficial somehow, as if I did not earn enough credit to have something to say about all of this. But what I realized these last couple of days is that although I cannot speak for places that were utterly devastated by this horrible storm, I can speak for what life has been life for the rest of us, tied to those who are suffering more while suffering ourselves.
Finally, I have been struck by the overwhelming ways in which this storm has brought out the goodness in others. My parishioners have been running extension cords across the street to share power with others. I observed all of us talking to one another more – learning more of each others’ stories – caring more about the welfare of each other. People without power themselves have bent over backwards to make sure my family was okay. Friends and parishioners have taken us in for hot meals and for washing laundry or for simple camaraderie. People long to help others even when they are suffering. There is a sense of abundance in the face of devastation. There is joy watching a toddler find creative ways to entertain herself. And the outpouring of love from all over the region is even more overwhelming. I have felt like that wall that keeps us from sharing Christ with one another has been decimated, and Christ is found all around us as we love and care for one another.