We’ve had this spot of air travel so as to be able to be under some excellent bible teaching, sitting slumped in a church pew as the word of God is deftly exposited. I say slumped because I’m awfully tired and worn out by the vagaries of life and travel and trying to keep all the balls whizzing through the air at the same time, at least the important ones.
But as I carry on my juggling act of keeping body and soul together, I keep finding one element is constantly landing back in my hand, that I thought I had attended to and then flung off into the distance. No matter how many times I fling it away, or decide that it’s not mine or it’s not important, it persists. And that is grief. Not grief like I’ve suffered some personal tragedy and therefore grieve. Not grief even associated with anyone I know. No, rather, I’ve been lugging around grief over the destruction and wrecking of the church in America, the persecution of the church world wide, and the threatening cloud of intellectual darkness that has settled down over stuff like the planned parenthood videos, and also the many threaded internet discussions that reveal ignorance and poor judgement. It is the grief of looking at the state of things and knowing there isn’t anything you can do about it, there isn’t any amount of conversation that’s going to make it better, it would mean that God would have to do something, and wondering if and when he will.
I mean, of course he will, and already has. Sorry God.
I knew this already, but the great remedy for grief and being bowed down under the weight of things, is the bible. That boring dusty book, that oppressive, patriarchal nonsense (I jest, of course) is so life giving, is the best way to examine whatever it is you find you are lugging around, and judging whether it should stay or go. As I turned over this grief yesterday, thinking again it was time to chuck it away and get on with The Joy of The Lord and go about the business of going from strength to strength, the unfolding of scripture by the preacher made me decide to hold onto it a little longer.
Holding onto it a little longer isn’t about me wasting time and energy on something over which I have no control and about which I can do nothing. It should be the constant attention of prayer–grief in prayer.
I mean, duh. Obviously. I’ve totally been praying about the church around the world, and all those mothers and broken babies. I mean, I have, some, but I could do more. And the more I am unable to fling off the grief, the more opportunity there would be for me to pray.
And on that note, I’m going to stop doing this, and do that, and trust that God will do what he is already doing.
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