pain

A suffering woman and a dead girl

Jesus is our Hope when Problems are Unsolvable 

[Readings for the 5th Sunday after Pentecost: Lamentations 3:22-33, Psalm 30, 2 Corinthians 8:7-15Mark 5:21-43]

Chances are, a number of you currently are experiencing or recently have experienced a loss, a hardship, some source of pain in your life. Just in terms of those who’ve lost a loved one, statistics say there are people reading this blog post dealing with that form of grief. “About 2½ million people die in the United States annually, each leaving an average of five grieving people behind” (The Recovery Village: Grief by the Numbers). In 2020, that number of deaths in the US was estimated at over 3½ million by the CDC’s National Vital Statistics System–the death toll expanded greatly due to COVID. An Associated Press poll conducted in March of this year found that 20% of people in the United States had lost a friend or close relative to COVID. “That means a potential bereaved population of about 65 million.” A psychiatrist at Columbia University warns that because of isolation due to the pandemic, a significant percentage of the bereaved could experience prolonged grief disorder, a condition of persistent grief that lasts longer and aches more deeply than the typical grieving process. Some studies have shown more than triple the typical rate of prolonged grief disorder have been occurring over this past year. (See “COVID Has Put the World at Risk of Prolonged Grief Disorder,” by Katherine Harmon Courage, May 19, 2021, in Scientific American.)

Those are some general truths, some national and international statistics. More than likely, some of you reading this are grieving over a loss, some are struggling with persistent pain, all know community members whose lives are hurting.

“Encounter” by Daniel Cariola, Magdala Chapel – https://www.magdala.org/

The Gospel account for this Sunday (Mark 5:21-43), from the days of Jesus’ ministry in Galilee, shows powerful examples of persons dealing with grief and trauma … and their dependence on Jesus as their only hope. First there is the case of Jairus’ daughter, a young girl who should not become deathly ill, but who was deathly ill. Then, even as Jesus was on his way to Jairus’ home, the girl died. That did not stop Jesus from his desire or ability to help. We’ll say more about that momentarily.  Meanwhile, Jesus was the only answer for a woman whose problem just would not go away, and she was at the end of her rope. She had been suffering for twelve years with “an issue of blood,” as the King James Version put it. Our translation says “hemorrhaging.” Modern scholars, assessing what may have afflicted her, deduce it was menorrhagia — “abnormally heavy and long menstruation that causes enough cramping and blood loss … that it makes normal daily activities impossible” (Nigerian Biomedical Science Journal, August 29, 2017). We feel anguish for that woman, experiencing such a condition for twelve years. Now think also of the social stigma that it placed on her in her culture. Jewish cultural norms, following the laws of Moses, stipulated that anyone with a bodily discharge (bleeding or secretion) was considered “unclean” and was to stay socially distanced till after the bleeding or discharge stopped. It was a religious rule but also something of a public health rule for the Jewish people back before anyone knew much about bloodborne pathogens protocols. So, on top of a chronic, frightening health problem, this poor woman was supposed to remain in something like COVID-19 lockdown when the community around her was not in lockdown. Think of the isolation and abandonment and frustration she must have felt. She seems to have been a woman of some means, and had spent every penny she had going to various doctors, trying to find a cure for her problem. But none of them could help her. Her condition only got worse. Coming to see Jesus was an act of desperation, her last hope. She’d heard about Jesus. She’d heard he could do miracles. So she violated the social distancing policies that prohibited her from going out into a crowded space. She made her way through the throngs of people following Jesus, hoping just to get close enough, thinking, “If I but touch his clothes, I will be made well” (Mark 5:28).

Indeed, the woman was made well from the moment she came in contact with Jesus. But Jesus did not want her to remain in hiding (or to hide from him).  He stopped the crowd. He took note of the woman, who was afraid and confessed what she had done–which actually was a confession of faith. Jesus commended her and promised his ongoing presence with her. “Daughter, your faith has made you well; go in peace, and be healed of your disease,” Jesus said (Mark 5:34).  Think a bit about the context too.  Jesus was on his way to the home of a high-ranking person, Jairus, who was a leader of the local synagogue.  And Jairus had a significant need for Jesus’ attention; his daughter was deathly ill.  But Jesus paused to pay attention to the woman who just wanted a quick, incognito encounter and nothing more. She was like a person who comes to a church hoping against hope for something, sitting in the back row, not wanting to be noticed, but the Lord wants her to be noticed and wants people to care about her.  No matter how insignificant we feel we are, no matter how ostracized or shoved aside by society, no matter how helpless we think our situation is, Jesus wants us to know we are  welcome in his presence, that we are worthy of care and attention.

Gabriel von Max, “The Raising of Jairus Daughter” (1878) – Wikimedia Commons

And Jesus will care about us even when our situation is more dire than twelve years of incessant bleeding. For example, when a twelve-year old girl is dying–and even when she dies–Jesus does not turn away from helping.  To everybody else in the situation with Jairus’ daughter, her death was the end of the story. People came from the family’s house to say Jesus need not be bothered anymore, because the girl was dead. When Jesus came to the house anyway and told the mourners the girl was only sleeping and he would wake her, they all laughed at him. But we see the ultimate power of Jesus and the reason he had come to be with us on this earth. Death is the ultimate problem that plagues us as human beings. The sicknesses we have point to our mortality, to the eventuality that we all die. The death of a child points out the cold reality of death in a particularly harsh way. But the shocking finality of death is the very reason Jesus became incarnate as a human being, to reverse that curse. As Scripture says, Jesus came down to our level “so that by the grace of God he might taste death for everyone.” Since we are beings of flesh and blood, he “shared the same things, so that through death he might destroy the one who has the power of death, that is, the devil, and free those who all their lives were held in slavery by the fear of death” (Hebrews 2:9,14,15). Jesus’ actions healing the suffering woman and raising the dead girl are evidence of the healing and salvation he came to bring to all of us. 

Maybe the problems you experience in your life aren’t exactly like the cases we looked at today, a woman hemorrhaging blood for twelve years, a family mourning the death of a child. Their experiences are examples within the range of so much human suffering that occurs.  So many people experience deep hurts of so many kinds. In my years in the church, I’ve known …

  • dear souls who bore the scars of childhood sexual abuse for years and years in their adult lives …
  • dear souls who struggled with addiction …
  • dear souls who lost their jobs and struggled to maintain self-respect …
  • dear souls who experienced excruciating pain from terminal diseases …
  • dear souls who lost loved ones in senseless ways — in a car accident that occured on the way home from attending a funeral, or in a plane crash that occurred while attempting a stunt for a military air show.

In the work I’m doing now in human services, I encounter persons …

  • who need skilled nursing care and hospice care …
  • who need mental health hospitalization …
  • who have all manner of disabilities and need ongoing care and supports …
  • who are challenged by poverty and have little or no resources ….

So, while I don’t know exactly what you’re going through in your lives right now, chances are, there are losses, hardships, and no shortage of sources of pain. Maybe you feel like your soul has been bleeding for years and you don’t know how to make it stop. Where do you turn when the hurt in your life is constant, when the aches of your heart never really go away? Maybe you’ve tried everything–self-help books, practicing self-care, seeking professional help, any kind of help from anywhere and everywhere. And some things help some, but nothing is a complete cure.  Only the hope we have for resurrection in Jesus can keep us going through the pains and losses and devastations that are so much a part of life on this earth. Jesus is our hope when our problems are otherwise unsolvable.  Like the woman pressing through the crowd for even just a touch of the hem of his garment, we reach out to Jesus as our only eternal source of hope.

And how does that work–to reach out to be touched by Jesus when Jesus isn’t physically walking through the streets of your town?  Certainly one way is in coming to church, where you gather to hear Jesus’ words and receive his touch through the sacraments. There’s another way, too, that I’d like to say a little something about before concluding this message. I’d like you to think about today’s Epistle lesson also (2 Corinthians 8:7-15), which maybe seemed to go in a different direction than the other readings of the day.  Paul wrote to the Christians at Corinth: “As you excel in everything—in faith, in speech, in knowledge, in utmost eagerness, and in your love for us—so we want you to excel also in this generous undertaking” (2 Corinthians 8:7). The generous undertaking going on at that time was a special gathering of financial support for Christians elsewhere, particularly in the regions of Judea and Syria, who were experiencing food shortages and famine conditions.  Actually, the original statement in Paul’s letter simply says, “We want you to excel also in this grace” — the Greek word charis (from which we get our English word “charity”).  It’s somewhat limiting that in English we use the word “charity” (charis) mostly in terms of financial gifts.  Scripture uses the same word not just for gifts of financial support but for the ultimate grace, God’s gift of his Son Jesus, the One and Only, to be our rescuer.  Jesus now calls us to be gifts of grace to each other–with financial contributions, yes, but more than financial contributions. We become embodiments of Jesus to one another in our times of need.

At a church I was associated with in Texas some years ago, the congregation was in a bit of a financial crisis. A series of cottage meetings were planned, gathering members together in small groups at host members’ homes, to talk about how to address the financial crisis. At the first of those meetings, before getting to the stewardship agenda for the evening, there was an icebreaker activity planned, just to get people talking. Each person could respond to a prompt on the icebreaker card, which had prompts such as, “The most embarrassing moment in my life was ___________” … “One of my favorite vacations was _____” … “Something I’m praying about right now is ______,” and others. The first person at that first meeting started the conversation circle, choosing, “Something I’m praying about right now” and saying, “I’m praying for my daughter, who was just diagnosed with cancer.” There followed many minutes of fellow members showing concern for the woman, for her daughter, for her daughter’s husband and children, and actually engaging in prayer right there as a prayer circle.  The next person in the circle then also chose to share something heavy on her heart, something she was praying about, and the members listened to her hurt and ministered to her as well. For over two hours that evening, the members shared their needs, consoled one another, prayed for one another. They never did get to the planned agenda about the church’s financial situation, and that was okay. They did what was important. The other cottage meetings that occurred in the days and weeks after that first one all followed the same pattern. The gathered members all focused on the prompt about what was heavy on their hearts, what they were praying about, and they acted as missionaries of gospel to one another, encouraging each other.  Oh, and by the way, the church’s financial situation turned around too–because for the first time in a long time the members of the congregation began to realize the value of their ministry to one another and to others and, like Paul said, they began to excel also in that grace and in the generous undertaking of gifts to support needed ministry.  

In the midst of famine and hunger, in the midst of grief and abandonment, in the midst of sickness and death, in the midst of all this world’s problems and pains, Jesus is our hope. And as brothers and sisters to one another in Jesus, we become miracles of grace and hope to one another as well.

Brothers and sisters, may Christ be with you as you endure whatever hurts or sorrows are happening in your life today and whatever troubles you may face in days to come. And may you be with one another in Christ, supporting each other, praying for one another, reminding each other of the gospel hope we share. We know our Redeemer lives, and that he will be with us when we are on our deathbeds, and that at the end, he will stand upon our graves, and that even after our skin has been destroyed, we will yet see God, we will be raised by Christ to be with Christ forever. How our hearts yearn within us!  (Cf. Job 19:25-27.)  Amen.

Scripture quotations are from the New Revised Standard Version Bible, copyright © 1989 National Council of the Churches of Christ in the United States of America. Used by permission. All rights reserved worldwide.

Posted by David Sellnow

Treasured companions

The blessing of animals

Rabbits have taken up residence in our gardens. I don’t mind. Yes, they eat the tender tops off some of the plants … but we protect the ones we want to protect, and we can share the others. On occasions, deer have treated themselves to hostas and lilies in our yard, and that’s okay too. Visits from wildlife are joyful intrusions into our residential space. Well … not all wildlife. Even Saint Francis of Assisi (1181-1226), famous for his warm regard for all creatures, regarded mice and vermin as “agents of the devil.”[1]   I tend to agree on that point.

There are lots of tales told about Saint Francis, everything from preaching sermons to flocks of birds to calming and taming a ravenous wolf. Those stories have the ring of legend to them, fabrications to further Francis’ fame. What appears to be genuinely historical, though, is that Francis had a strong affinity with nature and animals, that seeing animals suffer upset him deeply, and that “the beauty in nature and the animal world should lead to worship and praise of God” (Samuel Gregg, Acton Institute blog, October 4, 2019).

The animals that are closest to us–as pets in our homes–especially give us reasons to thank God for their companionship. We rightly treat them “just as if they were members of the household” – so said even someone as stalwart as the moral philosopher Immanuel Kant (1724-1804).[2]

We lost a precious animal friend in our household recently. His personality was always that of a puppy, even when he was past ten years old. But then he fell ill, and it hurt to see him hurt. When all the efforts at veterinary intervention failed to remedy his ills, it hurt even more (for him and for us). We sorely miss him. We are reminded of how blessed we were to have him as a part of our family. I’m sure others of you feel the same way about your beloved pets.

Animals may not be spiritual beings in the same way we are, but as Saint Francis observed, they are “manifestations of an unforced, innate spiritual presence.”[3] God shows us aspects of his own character in the world and the creatures he made for us. We appreciate and praise the Lord for all the gifts given to us in the animal kingdom and the natural world.


Bible thoughts to consider:[4]

  • Praise the Lord! … Praise him, all his host! … Praise the Lord from the earth! … Mountains and all hills, fruit trees and all cedars! Wild animals and all cattle, creeping things and flying birds! … Praise the Lord!  – Psalm 148: 1,2,7,10,14
  • I am God, your God. … Every wild animal of the forest is mine, the cattle on a thousand hills. I know all the birds of the air, and all that moves in the field is mine.  – Psalm 50:7,10,11
  • O Lord, how manifold are your works! In wisdom you have made them all; the earth is full of your creatures. …  These all look to you to give them their food in due season; when you give to them, they gather it up; when you open your hand, they are filled with good things.  When you hide your face, they are dismayed; when you take away their breath, they die and return to their dust.  – Psalm 104:24,27-29
  • Your steadfast love, O Lord, extends to the heavens, your faithfulness to the clouds.  Your righteousness is like the mighty mountains, your judgments are like the great deep; you save humans and animals alike, O Lord. How precious is your steadfast love, O God!  – Psalm 36:5-7
  • Are not two sparrows sold for a penny? Yet not one of them will fall to the ground apart from your Father. And even the hairs of your head are all counted. – Matthew 10:29-30

[1] Augustine Thompson, from Francis of Assisi: A New Biography (2012), quoted in Crisis Magazine, June 4, 2015.

[2] Immanuel Kant, quoted in “Hume and Kant and our Obligation to Non-human Animals,” by Christine Korsgaard,  Australian Broadcasting Corporation, November 27, 2018.

 [3] John L. Murphy, writing on Blogtrotter, August 12, 2013.

[4] Scripture quotations are from the New Revised Standard Version Bible, copyright © 1989 National Council of the Churches of Christ in the United States of America. Used by permission. All rights reserved worldwide.

Posted by David Sellnow

Faith cries out

Originally posted on the Electric Gospel on November 10, 2019.

Faith cries out

by David Sellnow

What happens inside your soul when crisis or disaster strikes your life?  How do you feel?  What do you say? Let me share with you words of pain from someone whose faith was put to the test by devastating losses. When life hurts, have you ever screamed thoughts like this?

  • “Why didn’t I die at birth, my first breath out of the womb my last? … I could be resting in peace right now, asleep forever, feeling no pain.”
  • “I hate this life! Who needs any more of this?”
  • “God, how does this fit into what you once called ‘good’? … Can’t you let up, and let me smile just once …before I’m nailed into my coffin, sealed in the ground, and banished for good to the land of the dead?”
  • “Please, God … address me directly so I can answer you, or let me speak and then you answer me. How many sins have been charged against me? Show me the list—how bad is it? Why do you stay hidden and silent? Why treat me like I’m your enemy?”
  • “My spirit is broken, my days used up. … I can hardly see from crying so much. … My life’s about over. All my plans are smashed, all my hopes are snuffed out.”
  • “Why do the wicked have it so good, live to a ripe old age and get rich? … Their homes are peaceful and free from fear; they never experience God’s disciplining rod.”
  • “God has no right to treat me like this—it isn’t fair! If I knew where on earth to find him, I’d go straight to him. [But wherever I go, he’s not there.]”
  • “People are dying right and left, groaning in torment. The wretched cry out for help, and God does nothing, acts like nothing’s wrong!”
  • “I shout for help, God, and get nothing, no answer! I stand to face you in protest, God, and you give me a blank stare! … What did I do to deserve this? … Haven’t I wept for those who live a hard life, been heartsick over the lot of the poor? But where did it get me? I expected good but evil showed up. I looked for light but darkness fell. My stomach’s in a constant churning, never settles down. Each day confronts me with more suffering. I walk under a black cloud. The sun is gone.”

Have you ever had thoughts like that in the midst of trouble? If you have, does that mean you aren’t a good Christian? If you scream at God when you feel like God has disappeared from your world, have you failed the test of faith?  Should you be more like Job, famous for his faith when afflicted with suffering?  He lost his family (his adult children were killed). He lost his wealth. He lost his health. And yet he spoke with rock-solid conviction.  Job’s famous words were written down and inscribed in a book forever:  “I know that my Redeemer lives, and that at the last he will stand upon the earth; and after my skin has been thus destroyed, then in my flesh I shall see God, whom I shall see on my side, and my eyes shall behold, and not another” (Job 19:25-27 NRSV).

Perhaps you are more like Job than you realize.  All of the words I quoted to you at first — words of complaint, of accusation against God, of desperation and wanting to be dead — those all were words of Job.  (Bible quotations were from The Message, copyright © 1993, 2002, 2018 by Eugene H. Peterson. Referenced verses – Job 3:11,13; 7:16; 10:3,20-22; 13:20-24; 17:1,7,11; 21:7,9; 23:2-3,8-9; 24:11-12; 30:20-28.)

Job’s words of resurrection confidence are surrounded in Scripture by many words of grief and doubt and heartache. People speak of “the patience of Job” — and yes, the patience of a faithful heart remained alive in Job.  But that patience of faith existed in the midst of the frayed nerves and tortured soul of a life under horrible strain. Job’s wife is often criticized for telling her husband to “curse God and die” (Job 2:9) when everything fell apart for them. But I’m sympathetic toward Job’s wife. She was a mother who lost her children and could not be comforted. Her heart was overwhelmed with pain. And Job, too, struggled with that pain. Job wrestled with God in his heart, and went back and forth in his thoughts.  The same person who expressed all the anger and hurt I shared with you a few moments ago also said:

  • “Even if God killed me, I’d keep on hoping.” (Job 13:15 The Message)
  • “All through these difficult days I keep hoping, waiting for the final change—for resurrection!” (Job 14:14 The Message)
  • “Where then does wisdom come from? And where is the place of understanding? … God understands the way to it, and he knows its place. … Truly, the fear of the Lord, that is wisdom; and to depart from evil is understanding.”  (Job 28:20,23,28 NRSV)

Isn’t that the way that faith is in our lives? We go back and forth in our thoughts, between hurt and hope. We cry out to the Lord, “I believe; help my unbelief!” (Mark 9:24)  If you read the Psalms, you’ll hear words of joy and praise as well as words of anguish and questioning. If you listen to Jesus himself, hanging on the cross, you’ll hear him scream, “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” (Mark 15:34) as well as, “Father, into your hands I commend my spirit” (Luke 23:46 NRSV). You’ve likely seen this same thing in the lives of Christians you have known, or in your own hearts as God’s people fighting the good fight of faith. I’ve sat with a woman outside the intensive care unit, where her husband was going through organ failure after diabetes had done decades worth of damage to his body.  I’ve sat with the family of an Air Force colonel  who died in a tragic plane crash — not in battle, but while assigned to supervise younger pilots practicing for an air show.  Things happen that seem senseless, merciless, unfair, intolerable.  We cry out in distress and anguish, and at the same time call out to God in hope.  When God seems to have abandoned us, that’s when we cling most urgently to his promise that he never will leave us, never will forsake us (Deuteronomy 31:6, Hebrews 13:5).

Martin Luther spoke often about how God reveals himself to us in hidden ways, in the midst of pain and suffering and the cross. We tend to want God to show himself by big and bold and obvious blessings happening in our lives. But more often, God’s deepest work on our hearts happens through difficult things we don’t want to endure. In his Heidelberg theses (which he composed when under pressure to defend his teachings), Martin Luther said this:

  • “Now it is not sufficient for anyone and does no good to recognize God in his glory and majesty, unless he recognizes him in the humility and shame of the cross. Thus God destroys the wisdom of the wise, as Isaiah 45:15 says, ‘Truly, you are a God who hides himself.’” 

God’s greatest work in this world was accomplished when God seemed to be absent from the scene, when Jesus was hanging on a cross, dying in shame, with people shouting obscenities at him.  That’s not where people thought they’d find God. Yet that was how God had chosen to show himself and to save the world, through Jesus’ suffering.  And in our own lives too, we are drawn closer to God, made more dependent on God, when facing life’s agonies and, ultimately, death.  So when the difficult days come, yes, we will cry, we will scream, we will hurt. But we also will trust God is working in his own mysterious ways to draw us closer to himself and to draw us on in the direction of heaven.  Because ultimately, “faith is the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen” (Hebrews 11:1 NRSV).

The fact that we have faith doesn’t make us immune to hurt. Sometimes we forget that. I’ve known some Christians who’ve undergone a great loss or catastrophe, and they paste on a smile because they think a Christian should never be sad. They don’t allow themselves to grieve because they think grieving would mean they weren’t expressing hope. They may shed a tear at the funeral, but the day after they expect themselves to be putting all the sadness behind them. That’s an artificial understanding of our Christian hope. We don’t pretend we aren’t hurting. We acknowledge the full reality of pain and suffering, of sin and death, of the grave and loss. And at the same time, we cling to hope in the power of the resurrection. Think of Jesus, who broke down in tears when his friend Lazarus died – even while he knew he was going to raise Lazarus back out of his grave. Jesus felt death’s pain even when he had the power to overturn death. We need not gloss over the ugliness and bitterness of awful things that happen to us in this world. In the midst of that ugliness, we still seek God’s face (Psalm 105:4) and believe in his mercy.

When you’re facing loss, hardship, heartache, tragedy, it’s normal for you to cry out in pain. The great patriarch Job cried out again and again, begging God for answers. God remained silent for a time, but he did hear Job and he did finally answer him. And God hears you when you cry too. God is helping you even when you have a hard time feeling his support. He reminds you of his promises. His Spirit helps you hang on and have hope. Maybe you don’t have the patience of Job. Then again, even Job didn’t have the patience of Job! But all of us, as God’s people, will join with Job in confessing our faith. We say:

  • “I know that my Redeemer lives, and that at the last he will stand upon the earth; and after my skin has been thus destroyed, then in my flesh I shall see God, whom I shall see on my side, and my eyes shall behold, and not another” (Job 19:25-27 NRSV).

That is our confidence, our cry of faith, even when this life is so often so full of so much pain. We cry with hurt, but we also cry with hope. How our hearts yearn within us!

Posted by David Sellnow

When winter seems unending

Originally published on the Electric Gospel on April 7, 2018.

Always winter … but always Christmas and always Easter

by David Sellnow

Where I live, it seems like winter will never end.  This week a record low temperature was set — in single digits.  Waking up yesterday morning, the wind chill felt several degrees below zero.  Tomorrow a snowstorm is predicted.  And it’s April.There’s a line in The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe, by C.S. Lewis, that comes to mind:  “It is winter in Narnia,” said Mr. Tumnus, “and has been for ever so long … always winter, but never Christmas.”  Life in the real world can seem very much like that so much of the time. Another way of describing life’s long, cold, dreariness was expressed by Moses many centuries ago:  “Our days may come to seventy years, or eighty, if our strength endures; yet the best of them are but trouble and sorrow” (Psalm 90:10).

Yet that message of sadness and pain is not the only word we have from God about our lives in this world.  In reality, while our lives may feel like an endless winter, it is always Christmas for us, and always Easter.  The meaning of Christmas was that God came into this world to share our pain, to take all our troubles onto himself.  It was prophesied (Isaiah 7:14), “The Lord himself will give you a sign: The virgin will conceive and give birth to a son, and will call him Immanuel” [which means, “God with us”].  Christ entered into our existence and “took up our pain and bore our suffering. … The punishment that brought us peace was upon him, and by his wounds we are healed” (Isaiah 53:4,5). Christ faced all the worst that this world has to offer and died for us.  But “it was impossible for death to keep its hold on him” (Acts 2:24).  Every Easter, we celebrate his resurrection from the grave and the life eternal we have through him.  And resurrection hope is not just something that prompts us to put on springtime clothing and go to church on Easter Sunday.  God’s mercy “has given us new birth into a living hope through the resurrection of Jesus Christ from the dead” (1 Peter 1:3) — a hope that enables us to get up and face each day in the here and now, as well as having assurance of being with God in the hereafter.

It may indeed always be winter in the way our lives feel on this earth.  But in Christ, it is always Christmas, for he is beside us as our Brother, born into humanity with us.  And in Christ, it is always Easter, filled with hope and new life.  Because he lives, we also will live (John 14:19).

Posted by David Sellnow

A Cry from the Depth of One’s Heart

Originally published on The Electric Gospel on August 1, 2014.

During the summer of 2014, The Electric Gospel featured items written by participants in a summer writing workshop. In this post, Carl Heling shares with us a prayer from his heart, leaning on God in the midst of frustrations with life.  His lament echoes what psalmists have cried — and what our own hearts often feel.

___________________________________________

A Prayer, a Lament – From my Heart to God

by Carl Heling

O Lord, God, maker and preserver of all things, hear me as I come to you. Listen to my cry.  As I sit here pondering on my life, I realize time and again how wretched and lowly and poor a human being I am.  Surely, I do not deserve the gracious blessings you have given to me nor to be called your child, but you still do so continually.  Oh, how my heart can’t fathom your love!

As I lie here, I feel lost in a world of chaos and uncertainty.  Every day I labor and toil long hours to make a dollar, pay the bills, help the family, go to school, and give to church.  I do so with my best effort, knowing that it is my duty to do so as a citizen and member of the family and because that is what you desire from your children.  Yet I am unhappy, full of grief and pain.  I am disappointed and uncomfortable with myself and my doings.  Things never seem right or good enough.  I could have done this better.  I should have done that better.  O Lord, my heart is plagued and overrun with grief and pain on account of the sins and failures I commit every day of my life!

As I sit here, Lord, every day feels so futile.  I feel lost and powerless in this large world of chaos.  I don’t know how I am to best serve you with the unique talents and abilities that you have given to me. “Utterly meaningless!  Everything is meaningless (Ecclesiastes 1:1).  I am filled with urgent desire for knowing your Word, and yet despite that still find myself feeling as if everything I do is useless and fruitless.  And so I am filled with grief and sorrow.  Along with this, I feel sorrow on account of always feeling grief and sorrow!  I sorrow for the things I should or could have done better.  I grieve over all the sins and failures I have done in my everyday tasks.  And I sorrow and grieve about how much I sorrow and grieve.

Oh, how I long to be with you and with all the saints in heaven!  Heal this broken and plagued heart and mind of mine, Lord.  Invigorate my mind, body, and spirit with your strength and grace.  Forgive me of all my sins and failures and lead me to do better.  Ultimately, give me true, godly wisdom and understanding, as well as a steadfast and true heart set on your ways and your heart.

This is my cry, O Lord.  In your mercy in Jesus, hear me.

Out of the depths I cry to you, Lord;
    Lord, hear my voice.
  Let your ears be attentive
    to my cry for mercy.
If you, Lord, kept a record of sins,
    Lord, who could stand?
But with you there is forgiveness,
    so that we can, with reverence, serve you.
I wait for the Lord, my whole being waits,
    and in his word I put my hope.
I wait for the Lord
    more than watchmen wait for the morning,
    more than watchmen wait for the morning.
Israel, put your hope in the Lord,
    for with the Lord is unfailing love
    and with him is full redemption.
He himself will redeem Israel
    from all their sins.

(Psalm 130)

Posted by kyriesellnow