“In this time, this time of being tested, what are we to do?” This question is so deeply Spiritual, describing with sadness any current situation—coronavirus in the year 2020; polio epidemic in the 1950s and 1960s—or to the seemingly too “always-present-sorrow-when-a-person-much-loved dies from the illness of suicide. For suicide there is no beginning era, no ending era. It invades a person or a family or a community, and leads us to sorrow, deep grieving, blame-laying.
With coronavirus, polio and other illnesses from generations past and present, there come questions. In this time, this-time of being tested, what are we to do? Human intellect took a long time to find vaccines and ways to deal with polio; it will take us awhile to find vaccines and ways to deal with coronavirus. Now, at least, we have tools that reduce transmission rates. Less travel, less congestion, more physical distancing. Tools given us by physicians and scientists whose deep research has given the human community better knowledge. Yet, within this “time of being tested” the spiritual quest remains. In time of fear, our communities, families, and individuals wonder, “where is God? Why does God…”
For humanity, there is an ever-present sorrow, sadness, deepest need that prevails and brings us to asking questions of God. Death by suicide, attempted death by suicide: both bring fear and fright and loneliness and a sense of “nowhere to turn.” Perhaps nothing truly presents to us a deeper wondering, a deeper spiritual need.
When I was about 16, an adult friend attempted suicide…then talked with me about that time, even calling me one mid-evening. I don’t recall if my parents even knew, but I did. She was connected with our church, and mentored many adults and youth. She said, “one night it was all just too dark, and I knew I couldn’t stand the time of testing.” She survived, and lived a long life. But her descriptions of that time to me have given me a window to see the time of testing she felt. Since knowing her, there have been others whose attempted suicides threatened life’s balance for the rest of us. Since then, of course, there have been others lost to suicide: deeply loved, deeply cared-for, deeply respected.
Cook County, and those who live here, are being affected by the fear of Coronavirus, even though to date we have no known cases. The same for Lake County. We are trying desperately to be wise, to recognize symptoms. To be prepared with food in the house, numbers to call, facemasks in hand, a plan in place. We know that for others who have homes here, who come here every year, who love us and care for us in “testing-times and average-times” want to escape to here. We want them, yet also fear them; combining an attitude of welcome with an attitude of “remember your distance.” These are issues, questions, we can tackle.
But when in the great sorrow named suicide, within communities large and small, in ages long-ago and also now, we find ourselves TESTED, and ask of God: in this most grievous time of being tested, what are we to do? It is a question with many layers, including: how can we intercept and prevent what is so deeply hidden? How do we deal with an answer that we, merely human, cannot in all times know another; cannot know another’s thoughts, fears, plans.
Now, we are tested at levels deep by ourselves, our self-expectations, our social needs. And in this testing, we approach our Creator and ask, “What can we do, in this time, to draw closer to one another?” And maybe at the heart of all our Spiritual questioning of God, we ask “how can we see, in this time of us being tested, that you are here?” and “what can we do, in this time, to draw closer to you?”
My sense? I need more of this: The time when followers of Jesus, knowing of his death on the Cross, walked away from it all, left friends, family, questions. Hoping to escape, they walked away towards another place. And, along their walk, were met by one they thought a stranger. A stranger who then walked along with them, listening as if he had known them, yet as if he had not known them. Approaching a place to rest and have a meal, the stranger continued walking, but the two grieving former followers of Jesus asked the stranger to stay, just for one meal. The stranger obliged, and when he at last left them, the two disciples turned to one anther and said, “Were not our hearts burning within us while he was talking to us on the road?” And their hearts, broken open, recognized Jesus, present.
And so it is for us: our lives of questioning and our hearts filled with burning. Let us recognize that with us, on our road of life, is Jesus. Questions, yes. Losses, yes. Fears, yes. Testing times, yes. Death, yes. But throughout them, in the deepest times of questioning and loss and fear and uncertainty and sorrow, there is with us: the Spirit of God and the Presence of Jesus, walking with us, welcoming us, all of us. As we who question and we who die, all find ourselves being welcomed into the arms of God.
Amen.
Each month a member of the Cook County Ministerium will offer Spiritual Reflections. This month our contributor is Pastor Kris Garey, Trinity Lutheran Church, Hovland.
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