Grief

A personal note:

The last couple of months have been intense, and I’ve gotten behind on a long series of responsibilities and projects. Until I catch up–especially with a book I need to complete–I’ll be posting here only once a week, aiming for Wednesdays.

One part of the challenge was the decision our daughter Valerie and her husband Cesar made to move back to Brazil–with just six weeks before Val would have to start work there. They accomplished a major move, including participation in our Elliott family reunion and a trip to New York to secure documents they needed, in that short time. Truly amazing! We will miss them. And we rejoice with them, for all the goodness they will experience “back home.”

Here they are on the airplane; destination: a new chapter of life in São Paulo.

They did it!! Girls and guys: Back row Luciene (Cesar’s mom), Valerie, Talita. Front row Cesar Sr., Cesar Jr., Caleb. Lu and Cesar Sr., who came to visit before the Brazil decision was made, worked incredibly hard to make this move possible, including preparing the house for sale. Anyone looking for a cute house to purchase in Pittsburgh?

I asked you to pray for my sister. Thank you. She’s doing better, for which we are so grateful. And she has a long road ahead.

It’s helpful to me right now to know that the Holy Spirit understands grief. This blog considers a particular kind of grief, not the separation of loved ones moving to another continent, but the rupture caused by our sin, when we harm ourselves and others.

But the Holy Spirit grieves

Psalm 51:10-12 Create in me a clean heart, O God. Renew a loyal spirit within me. Do not banish me from your presence, and don’t take your Holy Spirit from me. Restore to me the joy of your salvation and make me willing to obey you.

Ephesians 4:30 Do not bring sorrow to [grieve, offend, vex, sadden] the Holy Spirit by the way you live. Remember, he has identified [put his seal on] you as his own, guaranteeing that you will be saved on the day of redemption.

1 Thessalonians 5:19 Do not stifle [quench, suppress, smother, hold back, try to stop] the Holy Spirit.

Grief. It touches each of us sooner or later, to a greater or lesser degree.

Grief even touches the Holy Spirit. Why? Because he expects us to obey a random set of arbitrary rules or face capricious anger and punishment from God?

No. God deeply loves each of us. What hurts him is our unnecessary suffering because we do what is not lifegiving and harm ourselves and others, whom he loves just as profoundly.

In Psalm 51 King David records his anguished cry of repentance after the prophet Nathan confronted him with seducing Bathsheba and murdering her husband. David rightly fears that God will take the Holy Spirit from him as he did with David’s predecessor, King Saul (1 Samuel 16:14). God’s Spirit is holy; he cannot associate himself with rebellion and evil. And in the Old Testament, pre-Pentecost, the Spirit was given to particular people in select circumstances. Not, as Paul stated to the Ephesians, to all believers as a guarantee of our salvation.

God’s Spirit is all about life, health, growth, creativity, blessing, fruitfulness, beauty. When we choose to harm ourselves or others, we limit his power and effectiveness in our lives. And we grieve him.

The way back to joy is exactly what David did: admit and confess our wrongdoing; no excuses. There still will be consequences. Saying “I’m sorry; I was wrong” does not bring a murdered person back to life or make adultery OK. David and Bathsheba’s firstborn died.

But the relationship with God can be repaired, and often (not always) ruptures with other people can heal.

Restoration begins with humility and honesty. Repentance opens the door once more to the Holy Spirit’s wonderful work in our lives.

The sacrifice you desire is a broken spirit. You will not reject a broken and repentant heart, O God (Psalm 51:17).

And the Holy Spirit helps us in our weakness. … The Holy Spirit prays for us with groanings which cannot be expressed in words (Romans 8:26).

Why do roses have thorns?

But God’s power works through our weakness July 15, 2024

2 Corinthians 12:7-10 I was given a thorn in my flesh … Three different times I begged the Lord to take it away. Each time he said, “My grace is all you need. My power works best in weakness.” So now I am glad to boast about my weaknesses, so that the power of Christ can work through me. … For when I am weak, then I am strong.

I’m sure you’ve had the experience, as I did last week, of injuring a finger on the thorn of a rose and then asking “Why? Why do beautiful roses have such sharp thorns?”

Shutterstock: Albatros-Design

And you may have noticed, as I’ve been working my way through 2 Corinthians on this blog, that I skipped the best-known part of chapter 12. I did that because I’ve written about it so many times as the theme of Karis’s life. This began when she was eleven, when she asked her father and me not to pray any longer for her healing, and instead to pray that she would understand and fulfill God’s purposes for her life.

This theme prompted her to write in her journal at age sixteen, “All I see is grace,” the phrase I chose for the subtitle of her book. Perhaps you have read Karis: All I See Is Grace and understand from her life a bit more about God’s love extended to us through suffering and loss. (I just noticed in looking up this link that it’s on sale right now on Amazon.)

So why am I doubling back to this passage today? I just listened to a sermon on it by Lauren Scharf at our church on July 7, a day we were away. I want you to take time to listen to it, because she expresses so well what Karis learned and what she lived out: Our intimacy with Jesus is enhanced when we go through grief and suffering because he, the Man of Sorrows, acquainted with deepest grief (Isaiah 53:3), knows from his own personal experience what it’s like. He understands. He walks with us through the deep valleys (Psalm 23), offering us grace to help us when we need it most (Hebrews 4:15-16).

Whatever your “thorn” is, whatever you are struggling with, you are not alone. Jesus is with you. Please take a few minutes to listen to Lauren’s sermon. It might be the best thing you do all week!

But God shares our sorrow

Acts 7:59-8:2 As the Jewish leaders stoned him, Stephen prayed, “Lord Jesus, receive my spirit.” He fell to his knees, shouting, “Lord, don’t charge them with this sin!” And with that he died. Saul was one of the witnesses, and he agreed completely with the killing of Stephen. A great wave of persecution began that day … Some devout men came and buried Stephen with great mourning. But Saul was going everywhere to destroy the church. He went from house to house, dragging out both men and women to throw them into prison.

Romans 8:17, 26 If we are to share Christ’s glory, we must also share his suffering … But the Holy Spirit prays for us with groanings that cannot be expressed in words.

Covid is battering our friends across South America. Daily, it seems, we hear of another heart-rending situation involving people we know and love. So while we delight in the re-opening of our lives here in the U.S., thanks to life-saving vaccines, we’re reminded constantly that this pandemic is not over. Nor will be in the foreseeable future.

A pandemic is one thing. Suffering people deliberately inflict on each other, as Saul did to the early church, is even more painful, especially if God’s holy name is used to justify wounding and destruction. Sadly, this is nothing new. I’m grappling with bitter historical realities in my research for Treasure Hunt 1904.

But God had a plan for Saul, and we’ll get to that in the next chapter of Acts. The time came when Saul, known later as Paul, wrote, “In my insolence, I persecuted God’s people. But God had mercy on me. Oh, how generous and gracious our Lord was!” (1 Timothy 1:13). God offers mercy and hope of transformation to anyone willing to hear his voice of compassion. Even the perpetrators. Inexplicably, he loves our broken world.

Paul continues telling Timothy that despite human arrogance, “He alone is God” (verse 17). God’s not rattled by my sense that the world (and even the church) has gone crazy. He’s still on his throne–remember Stephen’s vision? He has a plan.

So I offer to you, Lord, my sorrow and grief, my anger at what I see as manipulative and unjust, my worry about what’s happening in the U.S. and the world, my frustration with my own limited vision and frail faith.

And now maybe I can go back to sleep.