Cup of Sorrow, Cup of Joy

“When we are crushed like grapes, we cannot think of the wine we will become. The sorrow overwhelms us, makes us throw ourselves on the ground, facedown, and sweat drops of blood. Then we need to be reminded that our cup of sorrow is also our cup of joy and that one day we will be able to taste the joy as fully as we now taste the sorrow” (Henri Nouwen).

I love that imagery. I don’t necessarily think that we will at any point sweat drops of blood. That was something Jesus did in moments of extreme anxiety when facing the prospect of the cross. But I do think the sentiment about sorrow and joy is on point.

To think that as much as we taste sorrow now, we will one day taste joy is a joyful statement. As bad as some days are down here, they will be just as good up there. Actually, the worst we go through won’t be able to compete with the best that’s coming. Paul calls it a light and momentary affliction in contrast to the pure joy that awaits.

It’s easy to focus on the crushing and forget the wine that we will become. We can get caught up in how painful the refining process is and neglect that one day Jesus will see His pure reflection in us. What a day that will be. And even in the fire, God is with us.

Reframing Your Past, Present & Future

I’ve never thought about gratitude like that before. I get that it changes the way you see your present and can shift how your future plays out, but to change your perspective on your past? That’s a game changer.

The old saying about grace is that it means that your past now serves a purpose instead of serving shame. Gratitude helps you to see how every part of your past, good and bad, has led you to the present moment. God was in all of it with you, taking those dark and painful moments to weave them in with the brighter colors.

Also, sometimes when you look at a famous painting too closely, it looks like a big chaotic mess. You can’t tell anything about it. But once you step back, it becomes clearer. The same applies for life — once you can step back after a few days or weeks or months, you can see more clearly what God was up to in that moment.

You don’t have to give thanks FOR those awful moments and tragedies. But you can give thanks IN them. Paul didn’t say give thanks FOR all circumstances but IN all circumstances, knowing God works all things together for good and there is a redemptive purpose for pain and loss.

I still think about that quote about muddy water becoming clear as it settles and is still. So do we. Everything becomes clear when we cease striving to make it make sense and can be still and know that God is God, to know that God is still in control and in charge.

And it all begins with gratitude.

Caring for the Elderly

“To care for the elderly means then that we allow the elderly to make us poor by inviting us to give up the illusion that we created our own life and that nothing or nobody can take it away from us. This poverty, which is an inner detachment, can make us free to receive the old stranger into our lives and make that person into a most intimate friend.

When care has made us poor by detaching us from the illusion of immortality, we can really become present to the elderly. We can then listen to what they say without worrying about how we can answer. We can pay attention to what they have to offer without being concerned about what we can give. We can see what they are in themselves without wondering what we can be for them. When we have emptied ourselves of false occupations and preoccupations, we can offer free space to old strangers, where not only bread and wine but also the story of life can be shared” (Henri Nouwen).

I think I remember reading about different cultures in the past where two or three generations of the same family lived under one roof, and when one got older, the family would take care of that person. I understand that times have changed. I also understand that we live in a very modern Western society where we have facilities for caring for those who can no longer care for themselves.

This is not bashing those institutions or those who place their aging loved ones in such places. This is about how there is a kind of joy that comes from taking care of the elderly. They have so much wisdom from having lived so long. They have stories and pictures and memories to share.

I’d give anything right now to have at least one of my grandparents alive again to be able to listen to them talk for as long as they wanted, to look at old photo albums, listen to old music. I’d even take hearing the same stories told again and again.

This society doesn’t value age very much. We tend to glamorize youth and desperately seek ways to prolong looking and acting young rather than to teach about how blessed it is to grow old gracefully and embrace each stage of your life.

I’m 52, and as much as I want to think I’m still in my 20s, my body reminds me that I’m not. My brain may think I can stay up until 2 am and be okay the next morning, but the rest of me is like, “Are you kidding me right now?”

My church advocates for mentoring between young adults and older adults. I can think of no better way to gain wisdom than from someone who has a lifetime of learning by trial and error and from knowledge and understanding passed down through generations. Hopefully, I can be of value to the next generations as the older generations have been to me.

The best way to learn to love and follow Jesus is to spend time with those who have loved and followed Jesus for a lifetime. My pastor talks about how his love of the Bible and prayer came from watching his own father spend time in the Word preparing for and praying over Sunday School lessons.

That’s not a bad idea.

The Mosaic of Community

This is most likely a repeat, but I’m too tired for original thought, so I’m posting something from Henri Nouwen that spoke volumes to me about the importance of community and how we together reflect God and make Him visible in the world:

“A mosaic consists of thousands of little stones. Some are blue, some are green, some are yellow, some are gold. When we bring our faces close to the mosaic, we can admire the beauty of each stone. But as we step back from it, we can see that all these little stones reveal to us a beautiful picture, telling a story none of these stones can tell by itself.

That is what our life in community is about. Each of us is like a little stone, but together we reveal the face of God to the world. Nobody can say: ‘I make God visible.’ But others who see us together can say: ‘They make God visible.’ Community is where humility and glory touch.”

I think stained glass window work essentially the same way. They are made up of bits of broken glass that only make sense when fitted together into a whole. We are that mosaic and that stained glass window that tells the story of God’s love for His people. That’s why community matters so much.

A Lenten Prayer

“O Lord, this holy season of Lent is passing quickly,
I entered into it with fear, but also with great expectations.
I hoped for a great breakthrough, a powerful conversion, a real change of heart;
I wanted Easter to be a day so full of light that not even a trace 
of darkness would be left in my soul.
But I know that you do not come to your people with thunder and lightning.
Even St. Paul and St. Francis journeyed through much darkness
before they could see your light.
Let me be thankful for your gentle way.
I know you are at work.
I know you will not leave me alone, 
I know you are quickening me for Easter – 
but in a way fitting to my own history and my own temperament.
I pray that these last three weeks, in which you invite me to enter 
more fully into the mystery of your passion,
will bring me a greater desire to follow you on the way you create for me
and to accept the cross that you give to me.
Let me die to the desire to choose my own way and select my own cross.
You do not want to make me a hero but a servant who loves you.
Be with me tomorrow and in the days to come,
and let me experience your gentle presence.
Amen” (Henri Nouwen).

Lord, may the last three weeks of Lent not be wasted. Help me to use my time away from social media to create margins of unhurried space within my day for me to hear Your voice speaking to me. Give me a quiet heart and a calm mind to receive Your words. Above all, grant me the ability and willingness to obey what I hear. Amen.

Befriending Your Pain

Note: this was originally posted on October 10, 2021:

“I want to say to you that most of our brokenness cannot be simply taken away. It’s there. And the deepest pain that you and I suffer is often the pain that stays with us all our lives. It cannot be simply solved, fixed, done away with. . . . What are we then told to do with that pain, with that brokenness, that anguish, that agony that continually rises up in our heart? We are called to embrace it, to befriend it. To not just push it away . . . to walk right over it, to ignore it. No, to embrace it, to befriend it, and say that is my pain and I claim my pain as the way God is willing to show me his love” (Henri Nouwen).

C. S. Lewis said that God speaks to us through our pain. Oftentimes, pain is the only way for God to get our attention, distracted as we are by our pleasures and pursuits. Living in a beautiful but broken world, it’s not hard to find pain. God simply uses that pain to speak to us, to gently remind us that He is near, to mold us into something closer to His likeness.

Wise Words

“Jesus, the favorite Child of God, is persecuted. He who is poor, gentle, mourning; he who hungers and thirsts for uprightness; is merciful, pure of heart and a peacemaker is not welcome in this world. The Blessed One of God is a threat to the established order and a source of constant irritation to those who consider themselves the rulers of this world. Without his accusing anyone he is considered an accuser, without his condemning anyone he makes people feel guilty and ashamed, without his judging anyone those who see him feel judged. In their eyes, he cannot be tolerated and needs to be destroyed, because letting him be seems like a confession of guilt.

When we want to become like Jesus, we cannot expect always to be liked and admired. We have to be prepared to be rejected” (Henri Nouwen).

I seem to remember that Jesus said something like woe to you when all people speak well of you. If you’re doing the right thing the right way, you’re going to rub some people the wrong way, regardless.

It’s better to stand alone in your convictions and remain true to what you believe than to compromise away your beliefs for the sake of conformity and tolerance.

 

Taking the Next Step

“Often we want to be able to see into the future. We say, ‘How will next year be for me? Where will I be five or ten years from now?’ There are no answers to these questions. Mostly we have just enough light to see the next step: what we have to do in the coming hour or the following day. The art of living is to enjoy what we can see and not complain about what remains in the dark. When we are able to take the next step with the trust that we will have enough light for the step that follows, we can walk through life with joy and be surprised at how far we go. Let’s rejoice in the little light we carry and not ask for the great beam that would take all shadows away” (Henri Nouwen).

There are times when the best you can do is focus on the day at hand. You think, “If I can just make it through the next 24 hours.”

Then sometimes, 24 hours is too much. You feel overwhelmed by life. At that point, your focus becomes more narrow. “Can I make it through the next hour? The next minute?”

I’m as guilty as anyone of always looking ahead– to the evening, to Friday, to the next holiday. That’s all well and good until it takes away from living fully in the present and being fully engaged with the people around you.

To live in the moment isn’t always easy, especially when that moment turns out to be stressful and unpleasant. Still, even in those times you can still find hidden nuggets of joy.

Giving thanks and living gratefully is still the best way to live in the present as completely as possible. It’s still the best antidote to the cynicism and entitlement that seems to dominate much of the culture.

Keep keeping your eyes on Jesus and His kingdom and the rest will fall into place.

 

 

Choosing Fruitfulness

“There is a great difference between successfulness and fruitfulness. Success comes from strength, control, and respectability. A successful person has the energy to create something, to keep control over its development, and to make it available in large quantities. Success brings many rewards and often fame. Fruits, however, come from weakness and vulnerability. And fruits are unique. A child is the fruit conceived in vulnerability, community is the fruit born through shared brokenness, and intimacy is the fruit that grows through touching one another’s wounds. Let’s remind one another that what brings us true joy is not successfulness but fruitfulness” (Henri Nouwen).

I’m not anti-success. I love it when I try something new or take on a difficult task and succeed at it. Success is a great feeling.

But it should not be the final aim of the believer. Fruitfulness should.

To be fruitful is to pass along a legacy of faith first handed down to you.

To be fruitful is simply to abide in Jesus and let His work take root and grow in you, to let His words sink deep into the soil of your heart, and to let His love germinate inside you until it encompasses your whole being.

Let us choose success, but let us choose foremost to be fruitful.

 

Advent Prayers for Monday Eve

Lately, I have difficulty keeping everything straight in mind. I guess that makes me a cotton-headed ninny muggins. Like, is this the first or second week of Advent? Or have I posted what I’m about to post already?

As to the first question, my church lit the first Advent candle today. I supposed it really doesn’t matter if you get the order exactly right as long as you are able to prepare your heart to receive the coming Christ-child and center your mind on what Christmas is truly about– God breaking into this world to redeem His people from their sins.

As to the second, who cares? This Advent prayer is worth a repeat, if that’s what it really is. It’s still a beautiful prayer that echoes the feelings and thoughts of many who will read it.

“O Lord, how hard it is to accept your way. You come to me as a small, powerless child born away from home. You live for me as a stranger in your own land. You die for me as a criminal outside the walls of the city, rejected by your own people, misunderstood by your friends, and feeling abandoned by your God.

As I prepare to celebrate your birth, I am trying to feel loved, accepted, and at home in this world, and I am trying to overcome the feelings of alienation and separation which continue to assail me. But I wonder now if my deep sense of homelessness does not bring me closer to you than my occasional feelings of belonging. Where do I truly celebrate your birth: in a cozy home or in an unfamiliar house, among welcoming friends or among unknown strangers, with feelings of well-being or with feelings of loneliness?

I do not have to run away from those experiences that are closest to yours. Just as you do not belong to this world, so I do not belong to this world. Every time I feel this way I have an occasion to be grateful and to embrace you better and taste more fully your joy and peace.
Come, Lord Jesus, and be with me where I feel poorest. I trust that this is the place where you will find your manger and bring your light. Come, Lord Jesus, come.Amen” (Henri Nouwen).