A year ago on Good Friday, an e-mail went out that informed us that our church of eleven years was closing. Justin had come and put his arms around me and told me as gently as he could. There have been only two other times in my life when I had to sit down upon receiving devastating news. I literally could not stand and Justin helped me find my way to a chair as I leaned on him (and I thank God for the weight he can carry that I simply cannot). One of the hardest and saddest things we've ever had to do is gather our girls to us and tell them Trailhead was closing. Our church did a stellar job of giving kids of all ages the opportunity to take ownership, to serve, to belong and the grief of the children has been one of the most heartbreaking things to bear.
I have been dreading this Holy Week and I want to say so much here. I want to vent, I want to encourage, I want to be real. The truth is, after almost a year, the death sentence we were given on that Good Friday wrecked us. As it pertains to loss, a year is not so long. We do not have a church home, we are still grieving, we are missing community, we are healing. I'm learning to accept all of this. I believe being wrecked by this loss meant, for my family, that we were all in when it came to the church. I understand why people quit church but if anything this has renewed my love for God's design for the Church and so much of what we are grieving is what we long for and what we believed our church could be. The past year has been a lot for my family.
However, something new is happening. I believe it is the "hum of hope" and I don't begin to understand it, I'm simply grateful it's here and for the voices that have been encouraging me, loving me along the way. Romans 5: 5 says, “Hope does not disappoint, because God's love has been poured into our hearts through the Holy Spirit who has been given to us." We have suffered a blow, we have been wrecked by grief but God’s love has been working through all of it. Spring is here and the new grass green all around us is a reminder of how life has been waiting, brewing below the surface of something that looked (and felt) a lot like death. I choose every day to believe God’s love is like this.
Lately, I’ve also been working like a crazy
person to give up linear thinking - that somehow if I do or believe this then such
and such will happen. Following Jesus is simply not a linear way.
It is, in my experience, a day to day surrender, it's the courage to live and
love honestly and vulnerably, it's saying, yes, my heart has been broken, my
family grieved, but I will not, I WILL NOT give up my grass green hope. And
I am practicing trading understanding for acceptance: this is my life now, this
is how it's unfolding, and we are all in the palm of God's hand.
So, Easter is coming and, despite my pep-talks, I'm still dreading it. I have deep compassion for the church-homeless finding their way into a new sanctuary on Easter morning. I accept that my family and I may feel like outsiders on a day that once felt like a celebration of new life and belonging. It will most likely be a hard day for me and we all have those hard days - days we dread and days we simply get through. But this hard day will also be Easter and Jesus' resurrection brings hope and healing, not just for some but for everyone - maybe especially those broken, lost, and hurting?
My prayer is
simply this: that we who are grieving or lonely during this Holy Week
will be comforted and those of us still finding our way will experience new
life and hear the hope-filled hallelujah song.
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