Do Not Assuage the Pain

As I write this, my dad passed away just two days ago. At first, to my surprise, the emotional impact of it did not really hit me. throughout Sunday and Monday, I felt almost nothing, as if I was numb to it. One friend described it as emotional denial, and I think that is a good way to put it.
Despite the emotional denial, I did not go to work last night. It just didn’t feel right to go to work the very day after dad’s death, as if nothing had happened. After I left my boss a voice mail, telling him I would not be in, he sent me a text saying, “Sorry to hear about your loss. Take all the time you need.”
This morning, as I was reading several messages of sympathy and condolences on my facebook page, I finally got teary-eyed. Then I heard a song entitled, “I Want to Stroll Over Heaven With You.” As I listened to that song, the tears flowed more freely. Throughout the day since, I’ve just been generally sad.
I was intending to go to work tonight, saving my bereavement time for the trip down to Oregon for dad’s memorial service, which I believe will be the weekend of the 31st and August 1st. I’m assuming we will make the trip down on Friday the 30th. But when I arrived at work tonight, I realized I wouldn’t be able to concentrate, and I would not be effective. With my boss’s approval and encouragement, I came home.
I am grateful for everyone’s words of sympathy and compassion. But over the past couple days, I’ve noticed something that really does bother me. Not just because it’s me, and not just because it was my dad who passed away. It is something we’ve all experienced and something we’ve all been guilty of.
Over the past couple days, when I’ve mentioned dad’s passing to Christian friends of mine, the first words out of their mouths were, “Was he a Christian?” When I answered yes, they invariably responded by saying, “Well, at least you know he’s in heaven, and you can take comfort in that.”
Don’t get me wrong. I am a Christian. I do believe dad was a Christian. And because of that, I do believe he has gone to heaven. I am also aware that the Bible instructs us to encourage each other with such words. And I do take some measure of comfort in knowing dad has gone to heaven.
On the other hand, there’s a sense in which these words just sound trite. I don’t know if it is in the tone of voice, or the quickness of the response, but it just sounds like a rehearsed, pat answer we give people when they are grieving the loss of a loved one.
As I think about it, with the sadness of losing dad just beginning to set in, I believe this is an attempt to assuage the pain. As human beings, we have an aversion to pain. We don’t like experiencing pain in our own lives, and we don’t like seeing other people going through pain. So we say things like, “He is in a better place,” as if that is supposed to alleviate or assuage the pain of the loss. Before going in to work tonight, I was debating whether or not to even make the attempt. One friend said to me, “Well, at least that will keep you busy and take your mind off of it for a while.”
But that’s the whole problem. I don’t want to have my mind taken off of it. I don’t want to feel like I have to stay busy and keep myself distracted. My dad just died. I need to grieve. I need to feel the pain. The pain is healthy. The pain is good for us. The pain will pass, in time. And then, as it is beginning to pass away, I can comfort myself with the knowledge that my dad has gone to heaven.
But don’t say that to me now. Right now, I don’t want the pain to be alleviated or assuaged. I don’t want to avoid it. And I shouldn’t want to avoid it. The pain is healthy. The pain is good. The pain reminds us that we are alive. The pain reminds us of the love we felt for our friend or loved one who has passed away, and the fact that we do and will miss him/her. The pain reminds us of the reality of death and our own mortality. And if we allow Him, God can use the pain to teach us to “number our days.”
Earlier tonight, I was chatting on-line with an old high school classmate; a Jewish lady now living in Israel. She told me that in Jewish custom, a person’s funeral is held within 48 hours after their death. Then members of the immediately go into a seven-day period of mourning called Shiva. During Shiva, other relatives and friends provide meals and stay nearby to provide emotional support. But the interesting thing she told me is that, during this time, no one speaks to the mourners unless the mourners first speak to them. Everyone else is supposed to be present, but silent. They let the mourners grieve in whatever way they need to grieve. They let them feel the pain and feel the loss. If they need to talk about it, let them talk about it. If they need to weep, let them weep. If they need to just sit in silent reflection, let them sit in silent reflection.
How different this is from our society here in America. And as I am now experiencing this loss, I am thinking the Jews have it right, and we have it all wrong. Our lives are too busy and too noisy to sit in Shiva. Our employers provide two or three days’ worth of bereavement time; not seven. And after that, you’re expected to go back to work. Either that, or take vacation time. And if you don’t have the vacation time, you’re S.O.L.
And is two or three days enough time to grieve the loss of someone as close as a mom or a dad? Not really. Hell, it’s taken two days for it to just begin to sink in with me. But with my sense of obligation, and given the fact that dad’s memorial service won’t even be this weekend, but most likely the next weekend, I will most likely feel obligated to go to work tomorrow night. Already, I’ve got feelings of guilt about missing last night and tonight. Not to mention the fact that I will probably need to take a night or two off for the trip to Oregon to attend the memorial.
This is all wrong. I shouldn’t have to feel guilty about missing work because of my dad’s passing. But because of the work ethic I’ve been raised with and the expectations of society, I do, at least to some degree. Especially since the emotional impact didn’t even begin to hit me until today, I actually found myself questioning whether or not I was using dad’s death as an excuse to not go to work last night. Now you tell me if that’s not insanity.
Part of the problem is that, because I feel the obligation to be at work, it seems as if I can’t truly allow myself to grieve and feel the pain. I can’t let that dam break. Because once it does, I don’t know for how long it will last. But if I have to go to work, then I have to keep myself composed and under control.
I guess I’ve rambled on long enough. If I have to work tomorrow night, then I’ve got less than 24 hours for my “mini-Shiva.” I’d better get to my silent reflection, crying, grieving, and so forth.
And Dad: I love you, and I do miss you, even if it’s taken me a couple days to feel the pain. Remember, I’m only 38 years old. So it will be a while before I come join you in heaven. But don’t worry. By the grace of God, I’ll be there eventually. See ya then.

Avoiding Distractions

If my sin is caused by my thinking that something other than God will meet my needs and/or satisfy my desires, then the solution is to remember, recognize, and truly believe that only God can give me satisfaction. Then, in believing this to be true, I must trust Him to do so. I must actively seek to find my joy and satisfaction in God. It does no good to quickly pray, “God, meet my need and satisfy my desires,” and then ignore Him the rest of the day. I must be constantly pursuing Him.
But herein lies a great danger. I am far too easily distracted as I go about my day. As I drive down the road, I must pay attention to other cars around me. When I go into the grocery store, the shoe store, or wherever, I am focused on finding what I need to buy. Then I need to focus on dealing with the cashier as I pay for my purchase. At the coffee shop, I run into people I know and engage in conversation with them. At work, I am focused on accomplishing the task at hand.
Right or wrong, it is difficult to focus on God while focusing on all these other things. And it is not practical to lock oneself away in a closet all day. But even on those rare occasions when I can do this, I am easily distracted by my own thoughts. I find myself thinking about things other than God, even as I am on my knees in prayer.
However, the effort must be made. And I would add that the effort of seeking God is not made in a vacuum, anyway. I ought to be finding my joy and satisfaction in God as I am going to the grocery store, as I am doing my job at work, as I am conversing with people at the coffee shop. Furthermore, I am to find satisfaction from God in all these things. It is God who gives me the ability to go to work and perform the task at hand, and I must work “as unto the Lord.” As I engage in conversation with friends, co-workers, or even someone I just met, I am either enjoying fellowship with another Christian, or I am being given opportunity to be a witness to someone who doesn’t know Christ. When I go to the store to buy something I need, it is the result of God’s provision for my physical needs. If I keep God at the center of my focus as I engage in these activities, then I will find my satisfaction in Him, which is reflected in the ability to find a proper satisfaction in all those other things.
But again, it is easy to let these things distract me from God. For instance, when I am talking to someone about sports, politics, the local news, or whatever else may come up. If we are not talking about the things of God, then I am not, in that moment, focused on God. I am focused on the topic of conversation.
Does this mean that I need to steer every conversation toward God? No. But I have seen too many Christians do this. They try to Christianize every conversation they take part in. You can be sitting there, talking about the losing streak you favorite team is on. Then, from out of the blue, someone says, “Well, praise God, we’re just going to keep rooting for them anyway, aren’t we?” What in the world do you say to that? It catches you off-guard. Yes, I always root for my favorite team, no matter how well or poorly they are doing. But what’s God got to do with that? Directly, I mean. There’s no need to specifically mention God in that kind of conversation. And the fact that God may not be mentioned in any given conversation does not necessarily mean that you are not finding your satisfaction in God, even as that conversation is taking place.
Rather, we ought to delight in God in that He gives us the privilege of enjoying the company of those with whom we have such conversations, trusting that discussion about the things of God will come when the time is appropriate.
I am delighting in God by delighting in the blessings He provides, so long as I do not delight in such blessings for themselves. What I mean is that I must not allow the blessings to make me stop short of delighting in the One who provides them. One common cliché is, “Seek the Giver, not the gift.” Though it is difficult, I must not allow the gift to distract me from finding my satisfaction in the Giver.

Why We Sin

Have you ever truly pondered why we sin? I’ve been a Christian for nearly 30 years, but I sin all the time. Over the years, the reality of my sin before God has caused me a great deal of pain, frustration, and even despair. As a Christian, the overall desire of my heart is to please God; to be obedient to Him. And yet, I can fall into sin so easily. Sometimes, it has felt as though I were sinning against my own will.
In desperation, I would then cry out to God, asking why I struggle with sin as I do. I would ask pastors, Sunday School teachers, and other Christian friends. Or perhaps I would hear someone teaching on the subject. And the answer I’ve received most of the time is that it is caused by the Sin Nature. “You’ve got the Sin Nature inside you, compelling you to sin. It will be with you as long as you are on this earth, and there’s nothing you can do about it. The only thing you can do is fight against it as best you can. Do what you can to avoid sin, but understand that you will never be perfect in this life. You will always sin, at least on occasion. It just can’t be helped.”
This seems to be what I’ve always been taught, and I believe it to be true. However, I have a problem with using it as the default answer to the question as to why Christians struggle with sin—why I struggle with sin. I have a problem with it because it lends itself toward being just an excuse for sin. It allows for the potential of someone saying, when they sin, “Well, you know I just can’t help it. I’ve got the Sin Nature living in me.”
The truth is that, even though we do have the Sin Nature within us, it is never to be used as an excuse for sin. And I am not fully convinced that the Sin Nature by itself is a viable explanation for sin. Particularly since we also have the Holy Spirit living within us, empowering us to not sin. In addition, while the New Testament does acknowledge the reality of sin in the believer’s life (see I John 1:8, for example), the overall teaching of the New Testament is that a Christian is someone who no longer lives a sinful lifestyle. The Christian life is presented to us as a life of obedience to Christ.
So, regardless of how frequently or infrequently, why do Christians sin? Whenever a Christian commits any sin, how is it to be explained, without using the cliché that it’s just the Sin Nature?
I would submit to you two answers that I have received from a couple good friends of mine. And I will say that the second goes a long way in clarifying the first. In the midst of a discussion we had several months ago, one friend of mine told me that any time we sin, it reflects a wrong belief about God.
What he said rang true for me, but it also created a problem for me. What wrong belief do I have about God? I was raised in the church. I have studied the Bible as much as anyone else. I have even had a measure of formal biblical and theological training. I’ve got all my theological ducks lined up in a row. So what wrong belief about God do I hold to that causes me to sin?
This leads me to the answer given to me by another friend. In answer to the question of why I struggle with sin as I do, he said, “Jesus is not enough for you.” I instinctively balked at this statement, but only for a moment. For I quickly understood what he was saying. He was saying that whenever I sin, I have a need or a desire that I believe Jesus will not meet or fulfill.

Two Brothers

I recently had opportunity to attend a Bible study at a friend’s house. They were looking at the story of the Prodigal Son, with which we’re all familiar. The younger of two sons asks his father for his share of the inheritance and squanders it on riotous living. When he finds himself destitute, feeding pigs, and not even having as much to eat as the pigs do, he decides to return home, asking his father for the place of a hired servant.

But the father, having compassion on his son, calls for a robe, a ring, and shoes for him to wear. He kills the fattened calf, and throws a party such as the neighborhood has never seen.

The older brother, coming in from a hard day’s work in the field, sees that a party is taking place and learns that his brother has come home. However, he is neither happy nor excited to see him. Instead, he becomes angry and refuses to even step foot inside the house. When his father comes out, trying to persuade him to join the party, he says, “This isn’t fair! I work hard for you all day, every day. And what is my reward? You don’t even give me enough to be able to have an occasional party with my friends. Now, this son of yours, who’s been gone for months on end, drinking, gambling, sleeping around, and who knows what else—he comes crawling home, and you have a feast! What’s going on here?”

The father reassures his eldest son of his status in the family, saying, “All I have is yours.” But he also tried to get him to see the reason for the party: “Your brother was lost, and now he is found. He was dead, but now he’s alive again.”

After reading the story from Luke 15, the group was posed with the question, “Which brother do you most identify with?” As we went around the room, it was interesting to hear people’s responses; which brother they identified with, and why. Some identified with the younger brother; some with the older. One gentleman said he’s always had a tendency to identify with the older brother, but is slowly learning to identify with the younger. Another said he used to really identify with the younger brother, but had to admit that, since becoming a Christian, he sometimes falls into the trap of being the older brother.

When the question got around to me, I said that I am the younger brother, desperately trying to be the older brother. I want to be the son who does what the father commands. I want to be the son whom the father can be proud of. But this is not what I am, and because of the Sin Nature living in me, I never can be. So I am always frustrated in the effort.

My friend then did an excellent job of bringing us all back to the point of the story. He said that we should not want to be either of the two sons. For each one, simply being loved and accepted by the father was not enough. Yes, the younger son did come to his senses and return home, giving us a beautiful picture of repentance. But early on, he couldn’t wait to get away from home; away from his father. The older son stayed home, he worked hard in the family business for his father, always doing what was asked of him. But he wanted grand recognition and reward for it. Just being with the father and being loved by the father was not good enough for him.

The fact is, both sons were accepted on the same basis: the grace and love of the Father. That should have been enough for them. And it should be enough for us.

Which of these two brothers do you most identify with? Try not to be that one, without becoming the other.