A weary world rejoices . . .

I must admit, these last few months of 2012 have left me a bit weary. Families who have lost loved ones, close friends who have moved away, and a few personal struggles have darkened my days. And then the tragedy at Sandy Hook, a town only about an hour's drive from my hometown in Connecticut, rocked our nation. In fact, today I found out that two administrators and two teachers who died at Sandy Hook were graduates of my Alma mater (Southern Connecticut State University). With this news my world got a little smaller and my heart ached a little more.

When Advent began a few weeks ago, I did not expect these feelings of woe. Although the season of Advent is about recognizing the dark world in which we live, it also anticipates the light that is about to descend into our world. But with each passing week, and with each subsequent candle, I did not feel any brighter. That is until last night, when my daughter sang O Holy Night at her school's Christmas program.

Long lay the world in sin and error pining, 'til he appeared and the soul felt its worth.
A thrill of hope, the weary world rejoices, for yonder breaks a new and glorious morn . . .

Indeed we live in a weary world, but hope makes all the difference. To every parent who has lost a child, and for every child who has lost a parent; for every heart-breaking goodbye, and in every tragic circumstance – may hope break into the darkness and illuminate our world. In trying times, hope anchors our souls. In the darkest of days, hope anticipates a brighter future. In a distorted world, hope transforms our perspective.

Hope descended into a manger 2,000 years ago and a weary world rejoiced over his birth. Hope dropped into my heart last night as my daughter sang, and I rejoiced in my Savior's advent. If you are feeling weary this season, may the light of the world pierce your darkness and may you awaken to a new and glorious morn.

Merry Christmas.

Stuart & Wendy

O Holy Night!
The stars are brightly shining,
It is the night of our dear Savior's birth;
Long lay the world in sin and error pining,
'Til He appeared and the soul felt its worth.
A thrill of hope the weary world rejoices,
For yonder breaks a new and glorious morn;
Fall on your knees,
Oh, hear the angels voices!
O night divine, O night when Christ was born!
O night, O holy night,
O night divine!

Led by the light of faith serenely beaming,
With glowing hearts by His cradle we stand;
So led by light of a star sweetly gleaming,
Here came the wise men from Orient land.
The King of kings lay thus in lowly manger,
In all our trials born to be our Friend;
He knows our need,
Our weakness is no stranger.
Behold your King, before Him lowly bend!
Behold your King, before Him lowly bend!

For those traveling on the road to Emmaus . . .

Although suffering and grief may seem like odd subjects to blog about during the holiday season, I have never known death to check the calendar for a convenient time to visit. So with respect to friends and family who have suffered loss recently (and those who are walking with them) I dedicate this post to you . . . But We Had Hoped

The Last Enemy

My hand rests upon the white coverlet of my brother’s over-sized bed in the cramped room. My mother glances towards me and says, “Wendy, get your brother some water, please.” I search the unfamiliar house to complete my task . . . 

Read the rest of the story on Tortilla Press.

Struggling for Relief

Today I received the unfortunate news that a young woman we met a few years ago is suffering the loss of her fiancée. My heart goes out to her and I pray she receives the comfort God intends. Her tragedy prompted the following thoughts about how we, as the church need to comfort those who suffer in our midst.

A few years ago I led a grief support group in our church. I so appreciated the willingness of those grieving to share their heartaches, vulnerabilities, and their insights as they journeyed through their grief. Unfortunately, a common theme popped up in everyone's experience; the hurtful statements others made in their well-intentioned but misguided effort to comfort.

I have discovered that in the church we are taught to pray but not to comfort. Very sad considering that the God we love and serve has revealed himself as the God of all comfort.I am confident though that most people truly do want to help and say the right thing to provide comfort to the grieving, but they are at a loss. So what does comfort actually look and sound like? We need a good working definition.

First let me say that comfort is not about taking away someone's pain. That may surprise you, but not only is this impossible it is not desirable. To completely remove the pain of grief from someone you would have to remove every memory of the person they have lost. Is that really what the grieving person wants? Of course not.

So what does it mean to comfort? Quite simply to comfort is to provide relief. Comfort is not about making someone happy, or helping them to forget their pain, or minimizing their loss. To put it another way, comfort is like a cushion under a sprained ankle or a sling to a broken arm; it provides relief to the part of the body that hurts so that it can heal.

Unfortunately, if we adhere to a wrong idea of what comfort should look like then we usually end up saying things that hurt more than help. I trust that people truly do want to help so I offer a few suggestions.

What not to say to those who grieve:

Avoid phrases that begin with at least. “At least he's in a better place.” “At least she's not suffering anymore.” “At least you know you'll see him again one day.” These are all true but not very comforting. We do not grieve because the person has gone to a better place, we grieve because they are no longer sharing life with us.

Avoid pep talks. “God does not put on you more than you can bear.”* “You're strong, you'll make it through this.” “You can always have another child.” “It could be worse.” Remember, it is not our goal to try to make the grieving person cheerful or to snap them out of their sadness, so avoid telling them how they should feel. The process of grief takes time. Don't subvert it.

Avoid trying to explain why. “It was God's will.” “If they had more faith they wouldn't have died.” “They must have had sin in their lives.” “All things work together for good.” You do not know why this happened nor does anyone else. Although in our frustration we all may ask why during difficult times, knowing why won't change reality and won't make us feel better.

Avoid lectures. Don't use phrases that begin with, you just need. “You just need to move on with your life.” “You just need to have more faith.” “You just need to stay busy.” “You just need to be thankful for what you have.” Grieving people need compassion not lectures. Please refrain from giving advice especially now.

Avoid superficial analogies or platitudes. “God wanted a perfect rose in his garden so he took your child.” “God always takes the best.” “Time heals all wounds.” People are not flora and God is not that arbitrary so please don't minimize a person's loss with shallow cliches.

What to do for those who grieve:

Offer simple condolences. “I'm so sorry for your loss.” “I can't imagine how you must feel.” “I don't know what to say but I'm praying for you.” Now is not to time to be profound or engage in theological debates. If you don't know what to say, silence is appropriate. A gentle hug or the clasping of hands is sometimes better than words.

Offer to listen and share stories about their loved ones. The grieving person may need to tell the story of their loved-one's death over and over again. You can express how much you miss their loved one or share a story of an adventure you had together. Remember, it's all about them and not about you. Now is not the time to talk about your own personal losses and how you have suffered.

Offer tangible help. “I will bring dinner over on Friday night.” “I will mow your lawn this summer.” “I will call you tomorrow if you need to talk.” It may be difficult for the grieving person to ask for help so offer it first in a concrete way.

Keep in touch after the funeral. During the first year especially show that you remember their loved-one by sending a card, an email, some flowers, etc on all the days they would have been celebrating with the one they lost but cannot. Knowing that somebody else remembers your special days soothes the soul.

Be patient. Grief is a journey that takes time to maneuver. Some days the griever may feel great and other days they may want to curse God in their frustration. Accept their feelings without criticism and listen patiently.

As I write, more and more ideas pop into my head that I could share but instead I'll give you the chance. What are some of the most helpful things people have said or done for you in your time of grief? What are some of the least helpful? 

Praise be to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of compassion and the God of all comfort, who comforts us in all our troubles, so that we can comfort those in any trouble with the comfort we ourselves receive from God. ~2 Corinthians 1:2-4

*This is not biblical. The context of this verse speaks of temptations not trials.

You Prepare a Table Before Me

This past week, we received the unfortunate news that a friend of ours, Todd Neveu died unexpectedly. Stuart and I met Todd and his wife Sharon while we were all students at Southeastern University in Lakeland, Florida. Most recently, Todd, Sharon and their two daughters, Nicoletta and Olivia lived and pastored at Calvary Assembly in Irwin, Pennsylvania.

We were fortunate enough to reconnect with Todd (far left) and Sharon over the years. Here we are with the whole family in Pittsburgh. We spent the weekend with them while itinerating in 2008

Todd and Sharon brought two missions teams to Jamaica while we were directors of New Vision Children's Home. Here they are ministering to the staff and children in 2007.

The second team built this wonderful playground for the kids in 2008.

In 2009, we enjoyed some fellowship at the General Council in Orlando, Florida. Stuart and Todd met up with another college friend, Pastor Jamie Gardner.

The day before he died, Todd wrote . . . You prepare a table before me . . . Psalm 23, as his last Facebook post.

Thank you Todd for your life and ministry. 

Save a place for us at the table.

Todd Neveu

September 13, 1965 - February 2, 2011

But We Had Hoped

Luke 24:13-21

Now that same day two of them were going to a village called Emmaus, about seven miles from Jerusalem. They were talking with each other about everything that had happened. As they talked and discussed these things with each other, Jesus himself came up and walked along with them; but they were kept from recognizing him. He asked them, "What are you discussing together as you walk along?"

They stood still, their faces downcast. One of them, named Cleopas, asked him, "Are you only a visitor to Jerusalem and do not know the things that have happened there in these days?" 

"What things?" he asked. "About Jesus of Nazareth," they replied. "He was a prophet, powerful in word and deed before God and all the people. The chief priests and our rulers handed him over to be sentenced to death, and they crucified him; but we had hoped that he was the one who was going to redeem Israel.

Many Jews, like these disciples recognized Jesus as the expected Messiah. And as the Messiah, Jesus was supposed to come in power and authority, he was supposed to establish a new Kingdom, and he was supposed to release the Jews from foreign rule. But then the unexpected happened: Jesus was betrayed into the hands of Pontius Pilate, he suffered and he died a horrible death. From their perspective, that was not supposed to happen. But it seems as though life just doesn't care about our supposed to's. And we, like our two disciples are left walking on the Road to Emmaus uttering those same words, but we had hoped.

We all take our turn walking on the Road to Emmaus. It is a well-worn road where long awaited expectations are shattered and we are left to wonder, What happened and Where is God in all of this? That place where we reason, Life is supposed to look like this and yet it looks like that. 

If you are traveling that road today, I offer you three thoughts to contemplate on the Road to Emmaus . . . 

1. Do not walk alone. There were two disciples walking on the road that day, sharing their journey and their grief. Contrary to popular understanding, the Bible does not say God will not put on you more than you can bear. An unfortunate misinterpretation of 1 Corinthians 10:13* has led some to believe they are weak in faith or relationship with Christ when they cannot bear the burden of grief alone. The fact is, there are some burdens we were not meant to carry alone. Galatians 6:2 makes this very clear: Carry each other's burdens and in this way you will fulfill the law of Christ. The journey of grief is one of those times. Remember, on the Road to Emmaus, do not walk alone.

2. God is closer than we think. In their despair and grief, our two disciples replay the horrific events of the last few days to the stranger among them. Their hoped-for Messiah was not only dead, his body was missing. Feeling discouraged and saddened they may have wondered, as we often do, Where is God in all of this mess? Indeed, where was God that day? He was walking right next to them on the Road to Emmaus. In times of intense trial and grief we sometimes do not feel the presence of God. But as we read this story we realize on the Road to Emmaus, God is closer than we think.

3. God will make himself known to us. At the end of their journey, the two disciples urged the stranger to stay with them. He agreed and they sat together at the table and he took bread, gave thanks, broke it and began to give it to them. Then their eyes were opened and they recognized him . . . (Luke 24:30-31). When did understanding and recognition come? When they sat at the table and they broke bread with Jesus.  Although, it may be difficult to understand or comprehend God's presence in the midst of trial, be assured on the Road to Emmaus, God will make himself known to us.

At some point in our lives, we all become acquainted with the Road to Emmaus. It is that place where the hard realities of life interrupt our expectations. However, in the midst of our discouragement, God always has a redemptive act at the ready. The disciples were disappointed and discouraged that day for they did not expect Jesus to die, but neither did they expect to meet him on the Road to Emmaus.



*1 Corinthians 10:13 refers to temptation and not trials.

O Tidings of Comfort and Joy

His name was Raymond A. Mitchell but I called him Pop-pop. He was my grandfather. Christmas was memorable at my grandparent’s home not only because of the gifts we received but also because of the love that abounded. With joy, each child received a handmade item from my grandmother like a Raggedy Ann or Andy doll and a stocking filled with simple treats like apples, oranges, candy and nuts.

A quiet and gentle man, Pop-pop exuded a calmness and an inner strength that I admired. At church, he graciously greeted guests with a smile and a nod, dutifully checked attendance and was a favorite with all the children (they all knew he kept a stash of zebra-striped gum in his coat pockets).

In 1979, when I was fifteen, Pop-pop was diagnosed with colon cancer. Although weakened in body my grandfather remained a strong presence in my life. One morning as my siblings and I headed off to school, the phone rang; my Pop-pop had died. It was December 21.

Calling hours were that evening at our home. As family gathered to comfort one another and friends came to pay their condolences, sadness lingered among the Christmas lights and the holiday trimmings. Another knock on the door interrupted my thoughts. This time it was our minister, Father Jeff Rawthorn. He shook the snow off his coat and then walked directly over to my grandmother. Gently taking her hand in his and tenderly speaking to her in his English cadence he said, “Imagine, spending Christmas with Jesus.”

Of all the words spoken that night, those few captured my attention like no others. They spoke life into my heart and hope into my spirit. It was true, we were not able to be with Pop-pop that Christmas but Pop-pop was with the one whose birth we were to celebrate in just a few days.

Christmas, although a little more somber that year was not without joy. We shared memories as well as gifts. However, what I remember most about that Christmas was the all-surprising peace that was present because of a simple reminder from a wise Episcopal priest, “Imagine, spending Christmas with Jesus.”

**Special thanks to my cousin Jon who took this great photo of our grandfather.

How May I Help You

Just recently, friends of ours learned that their 7 year old son has medulloblastoma, a malignate type of brain tumor. They have been journaling their ordeal and just last night Nick wrote a very insightful blog on what he has learned about caring for others. 

In his own words:

1. Don't help them the way YOU think they should be helped, ask them.  Joey is so patient with us.  Now we ask, "What can we do?" We don't give him advice, or tell him what he needs, we ask a lot of questions and shut our collective cake holes. We've learned to listen...and ask the right questions, and to help him the way he needs us to help him at that moment.

2. Don't ever tell other people how they should feel. He knows how he feels, and if he's sad, and I tell him, "you're doing great!" or "you're fine!"....it's very discouraging to him. Our job is to give him permission to feel however he feels (NONE of us knows how he feels or has gone through what he is going through) and we ask what he needs from us. A wise person once told me, "People always have the right to feel the way they feel".  Doesn't mean they see all the facts or the situation from your perspective, BUT, they have a right to their perspective and feelings.

When someone is hurting, we all want to help; but sometimes, although our intentions are well-meaning, we fall short. Please consider Nick's advice: ask the hurting person how he wants to be helped, don't give advice, accept how the hurting person says he feels, and listen, listen, listen. 

Live, Love, Loss

Some friends of mine have suffered through some loss this week, which has prompted the following thoughts.

We spent many weekend afternoons with my Uncle Bill’s family. Sometimes we hiked Sleeping Giant*, sometimes we traipsed the neighborhood park, and sometimes we just hung out at one or the other’s home.  That weekend we were at my Uncle Bill’s home and after a lazy Sunday afternoon, we said our see you laters and I knew we would do it all over again the following week. Unfortunately, our next weekend together would be quite different.

A few days later, I arrived home after school to find my cousins at our house. My Uncle Bill, my mom said, had experienced chest pains and my aunt was meeting him at the hospital. I recall a blur of memories: a telephone ring, my mother stifling a cry, my aunt returning with the news that my uncle had died.

This cannot be, my mind objected, this simply cannot be.

But it was.

Death had assaulted our family already that year and it wasn’t even Easter.  Just the month before, my aunt from the other side of the family died, now here we were again.  My Uncle Bill died quite young and therefore left a relatively young family, my aunt of course and my two cousins who were barely 13 and 16. His youth only added to the tragedy of an already sad event. His death hit our family pretty hard. My sister shared an especially close relationship with my Uncle Bill and to my father he was more than a brother-in-law, he was a close friend.

Within the next couple of days, family and friends gathered at our home for the calling hours*.  Co-workers, church friends, and extended family meandered through every room offering their condolences.  I remember standing in the kitchen amid mountains of donated food not feeling the least bit hungry as the knot in my stomach hindered any thought of sustenance. But as my father sat at the head of the kitchen table, accompanied by my cousins, myself, and my brother and sister he began to encourage memories of my Uncle Bill. Remember when, he said and the memories flowed as well as the tears and even laughter accompanied our recollections. And slowly the knot in my stomach loosened up.

We live, we love, and we suffer loss. My father taught me an important lesson that day. There is no hiding from pain or grief because to do so we must hide from life as well. Neither can we banish or eradicate it for, as in the case of grief, we would have to eradicate every memory of the one we lost. Instead, let us cultivate healing by encouraging remembrances and sharing stories and allowing ourselves to remember when . . .

 . . . a righteous man will be remembered forever. ~Psalm 112:6

*Sleeping Giant is a state park in Hamden, CT

*Calling hours in our part of the country sometimes replaced what is known as the visitation or viewing at a funeral home.