I usually don't listen to contemporary Christian music. But one artist, Natalie Grant, came out with a song a few years ago, "Held," that breaks me every time I hear it.
Who told us we’d be rescued?
What has changed and
Why should we be saved from nightmares?
Were asking why this happens to us
Who have died to live, it’s unfair
[...]
This hand is bitterness
We want to taste it and
Let the hatred numb our sorrows
The wise hand opens slowly
To lilies of the valley and tomorrow
Like many who have struggled with grief, I had a hard time keeping the faith (I still do). A little over a year after losing my dad, a friend from youth group, a Marine, was killed in Iraq. By this time, the fog and shock from grieving my dad's death had lifted, and those still-open wounds hurt to the touch. I was also struggling, as a new pacifist, to deal with the confluence of the church's complicity, U.S. policy, war, and the loss of such an amazing young man all at the same time. It was a dark time.
Each time a loved one would pass, it would just wreck me and bring everything to the surface again. An especially low moment was Kenny's unexpected death. A high school basketball coach, family friend, and fellow church member, his decline in a matter of weeks thanks to a brain tumor dealt a crushing blow to the bits and pieces of faith I had been trying to pick up. I literally had thoughts like, "We live and we die and that's it. And God is cruel if she even exists."
The losses that I've experienced after my dad's death have ended up serving as a gauge of my faith. In the aftermath of Jan's passing a few weeks ago--an especially devastating loss--I noticed this time that I didn't spiral into bitterness and despair. Yes, it's still painful and difficult, but somehow, this time, God was a healer, rather than the object of my anger.
Matthew Paul Turner shared a post yesterday, about how pointless it is to try to scientifically assert or disprove the existence of heaven or God:
When the topic at hand is “provable” only by faith, the less helpful and constructive, in my opinion, these types of conversations become.
Why? Because the reasons people believe and the reasons people are skeptical are personal and often complicated and are usually very difficult to explain. And when we’re debating big topics like God and heaven, it’s easy to become so caught up in our own story and belief and passions that we forget to consider the story and beliefs of the one we’re debating.
He continues, discussing his belief that Jesus rose from the grave:
It's a belief that, for some crazy reason, I can’t escape or leave behind or forget or “unbelieve”. And not because I’m afraid not to believe it. But because it does something to me.
But I have no proof that Jesus rose from the dead–nothing physical or scientific or measurable or anything that would impress somebody[.]
I have no proof of the resurrection, but for some reason, the fact that Jan's funeral was on Holy Saturday caused something to click. Honestly, I haven't felt God's presence since my dad died, and I feel like such a failure to admit that. I've completely lost that emotional, comforting connection that many Christians claim to feel, and that I felt in the past.
But for some crazy reason I still feel a longing to follow Jesus and to continue to hang out with these messy Christian folk. Like Turner, it has done something to me. Although I can't prove absolutely anything, and at times that darkness and bitterness creep up again, I can't unbelieve.
I'm not sure why I'm still drawn to following Jesus, but I think part of it is the hope and transformation and community and renewal that Christ and his church offer. Actually, I can't put it into words. So, thankful that I've survived this round of doubt somewhat intact, I think I'll just allow myself to be held for now.
If hope is born of suffering
If this is only the beginning
Can we not wait, for one hour
Watching for our saviorThis is what it means to be held
How it feels, when the sacred is torn from your life
And you surviveThis is what it is to be loved and to know
That the promise was that when everything fell
We’d be held
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