No matter who we are, no matter where we’ve come from, or what we’ve done, there are times in this life where we are reminded that we are but fragile humans, vulnerable to the myriad of threats to life on this planet.
And at times like these, we ask very important, very human questions about whether a good and mighty God causes or allows things like disaster, disease, or illness.
We asked some of these questions last Sunday as part of a summer series our pastor is engaging on questions from the congregation. As she invited members of the congregation to share, it became apparent that we’re all struggling somehow–that these threats to life touch us all very deeply, because none of us, no matter how proficient at this thing called life, is immune to disease, disaster, or especially, death.
And as our wise pastor shared her own thoughts on this difficult topic, looking out at many tear-stained faces in the congregation, she pointed us from God’s Old Testament miracles to Jesus’s healings, to his death on a cross, and finally, his resurrection and the Holy Spirit he left behind. She reminded us, as she often does, that we are the body of Christ, and so we’re the ones that are charged with ministering to one another, with being Christ to one another in these moments where the questions seem to weighty to bear.
So I’ve been pondering, all week, the depth and simplicity of that theology, daring to wonder what life would be like if we were one another’s comfort, one another’s grace, each other’s miracles?
They would know we are Christians not by our love, but by our empathy, by our grace, and our mercy. Because love is oft contaminated by the things of this world, sometimes most of all by we Christians and our misguided, self-righteous and judgmental interpretations of truth.
I’m led this week and this weekend to contemplate an economy of grace in which we can be a little more aware of how much we’re all hurting and a little less judgmental and a lot more humble about how healing happens.
What if instead of contemplating the origins of disease, asking how the bus driver got lung cancer, or quibbling with the details of disaster, wondering why people bother to live in Oklahoma which is so prone to tornados, we contemplated the length that Christ went for us on the cross, the underservedness of our own grace, and the abundance of grace in a world that’s often so graceless? And then what if we committed to being not the one who speaks, but the one who prays, not the one who solves or fixes or even heals, but the one who recognizes, beholds, and reveres deep need? What if we found a way to acknowledge great hurt, but live with great hope?
What if we were one another’s comfort, one another’s grace, each other’s miracles?
Oh Lord, come quickly.