The Blessing of Belonging (by Josh Graves)

The Blessing of Belonging (by Josh Graves) October 7, 2015

“Grace is something you can never get but only be given. The grace of God means something like: Here is your life. You might never have been, but you are because the party wouldn’t have been complete without you. Here is the world. Beautiful and terrible things will happen. Don’t be afraid. I am with you.” -Frederick Buechner 

Lance stands 6’1”. He’s built like a door frame. His head is a giant muscle. Even when he smiles he scowls. In this scene, Lance is leaning against the entrance to his grandfather’s hospital room. Everyone in the family is gathered. Cousins, aunts, uncles, siblings, nieces, nephews–the whole crew is assembled for the first time in forever. 

Standing in the doorway isn’t an accident. It’s the perfect metaphor for his perceived place in the family. One foot on the inside. One foot on the outside. Never really sure if he’s moving toward or away. Lance likes it this way. It’s most comfortable. 

This is the hour of blessing. That is, his grandfather is dying, in a generic hospital room, and the spiritual leader of the family asked everyone to gather so he can speak a word of blessing over all of the grandchildren and children. This is about legacy. 

The declining patriarch starts his blessing round with the grand kids. Lance is almost certain that his grandfather will forget to call him in the litany of summoned family members. One by one, grandchildren walk cautiously towards the bed. For most of them, this is the first time they’ve looked death in the face. 

Just as Lance anticipates the awkwardness of a family member having to remind his grandfather that Lance hadn’t yet been summoned to the bed-side, his grand-father says, with great clarity, “Come see me, my boy, come see me Lance.”

A lump grows in Lance’s throat. His feet feel like they are in cement. A chill runs down his spine. 

He approaches his grandfather only to have him grab the back of his head, thrust Lance’s face into his chest, whispering words Lance had waited his entire life to hear. Words that had been spoken previously by many, but, for whatever reason, Lance simply couldn’t hear . . . until now. 

The weight of blessing first comes into the soul-consciousness of young Jewish and Christian children in the story of Jacob and Essau. Jacob, the domesticated huckster (trickster = “supplanter” or “grabber of heal”), desires the blessing that rightfully belongs to his manly-man brother, Essau.

I learned, at an early age, that blessing was more than simply paternal affirmation, for blessing in the Bible was a cultural tradition involving property and leadership in the family. It was about sustaining the blood line, animals, children, security, and land. Blessing was all encompassing; it covered survival and power.

Many contemporary parents subliminally send the message to children that “as long as you perform to the best of your ability to be moral and good, you will be loved.” That’s not blessing. That’s a contract. Scripture offers a different sensibility of blessing.

Blessing is that moment a father is holding his newborn daughter and says to her in the early hours of her first night on Planet Earth, “I am with you. I am for you. I am for you forever.” That’s the blessing I’m talking about. 

Some psychologists call this “lost childhood message” we are all seeking to recover.

A technical spiritual definition of blessing might sound something like this: One person intentionally speaking words of life into another person about said person’s identity in Christ and the unfolding future.

It’s the friend, when in a moment of total self-doubt, looks you in the eyes and says, “You absolutely were made for this moment. Take a risk. I’m in this thing with you.”

It’s the parent who welcomes you back into your childhood home after your humiliating divorce and says, “We will navigate this river together.”

I am with you. I am for you. I am with you and for you for a long period of time.

God blessed Jesus immediately following his baptism (Luke 3:21:22). Many theologians point out that this is a rare Biblical moment in which Father, Son, and Spirit are present (i.e. the Trinity). But these same theologians fail to point out that Jesus receives God’s definitive approval and affirmation. This is my guy. This is the one. This is my son. 

And it’s because Jesus is blessed that he becomes a profound blessing for the world. 

Here’s the thing about Jesus. It’s not that Jesus wanted to be around sinful and sick people that keeps me up at night . . . it’s that the sinful and sick desperately wanted to be around Jesus. 

Are you with me?

The reason is this: There’s something about Jesus spoke to people’s deep desire to be affirmed, to be blessed.  “This guy will bless you. Just being around him will bless you, enlarge your spirit.” Jesus is a walking talking blessing . . . a living, breathing affirmation of one’s very existence.

Another word for blessing is benediction. Benediction means “well” (bene) “to speak” (dicere from diction). It means to intentionally use words to lift up the countenance of another human. 

And yet, we are blessing-deprived in our everyday life in America.

Partly because we are so isolated. Partly because we are so competitive. Partly because we are so insecure.

Barbara Brown Taylor invites us to to reclaim the necessity of blessing. “All I am saying is that anyone can do this. Anyone can ask and anyone can bless, whether anyone has authorized you to do it or not. All I am saying is that the world needs you to do this, because there is a real shortage of people willing to kneel wherever they are and recognize the holiness holding its sometimes bony, often tender, always life-giving hand above their heads. That we are able to bless one another at all is evidence that we have been blessed, whether we can remember when or not. That we are willing to bless one another is miracle enough to stagger the very stars.” 

Remember Lance being embraced by his grandfather. 

There isn’t a day now that goes by in which Lance doesn’t think about the words spoken to him by his grandfather. Words that caused those crocodile tears to flow so freely all those years ago. It changed the entire trajectory of his life. He’s 45 now. But that day, on the 124th day of his 19th year . . . that day is seared into Lance’s memory. 

“You are loved completely. You belong. You’ve always belonged. Now go live your life.” Those simple words spoken by a grandfather to a grandson created a new space, a new possibility. Words that unlocked more courage, confidence, love, and joy in an anxious young man than anyone could have imagined. 

You are loved completely. 
You belong.
You’ve always belonged. 
Now go live your life. 

Josh Graves is the teaching minister for Otter Creek Church in Nashville. His most recent book is How Not to Kill a Muslim. You can follow him on twitter HERE: @joshgraves.


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