Home | Which Tomb? An Easter Series - Part 5 >> |
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April, 2006 |
Changes of the Season |
A new bottom line. |
Posted by Brian Beers at 4/13/2006 11:06:00 PM (4 comments left) |
Through my grief God turned my understanding of him on its side. Before my baptism of grief, I may have said that âsinâ or âhis gloryâ was Godâs bottom line. Yes. I may have considered Godâs glory to be the organizing principle of Godâs activity in the world and in history. I viewed God, first and foremost, as transcendent, abstracted from the worldâunfamiliar with sorrow. This appears obvious to me now in the question I voiced one night in that first year after |
I kept a journal during that first year, each entry addressed to God. One evening as I wrote in it my emotions were particularly turbulent, and I struggled, unable to write. I finally cocked my head to one side as though God were standing behind me and asked out-loud, âDo you have any idea what this feels like?â The final consonant hadnât even left my throat when I almost heard him answer, âThe garden.â Suddenly I knew. AdamâEveâsinâdeath. Death! No longer did I wonder if my God understood the pain of my loss. I was privileged to glance into the depth of Godâs broken heart. There, in the Garden of Eden, Godâs true love died. As understanding dawned ârelationshipâ became the foundational theme in my theology. And it has remained so to this day. This new âbottom lineâ for my theology recast everything in terms of relationship and passion. While writing this I realize that âLoveâ may be the attribute of God that I mean when I write of relationship. Years of Sunday school, however, all but ruined âGodâs Loveâ else I would have recognized it. Godâs Love as described in Sunday school was never True Love in the Westley-and-Buttercup sense. It was more like Grandmotherly Loveâstately and sure, but never stirring the blood. One night some months later, I realized that the cross wasnât just judicially satisfying. It was emotionally satisfying. As I stared at my lone reflection in a pool where Nancy and I had once reflected together, I wondered what I would give to have even one more hour with my true love. Moments later I looked up from that pool, filled with wonder, for the God who, in response to that same question, gave up his life. This new bottom line has colored my every perception about God, why he does things, and why he doesn't. It doesn't mean that I like what happens. It doesn't mean that my sorrow is less, but I am comforted knowing that God viscerally understands grief and my grief. The deepest comfort comes in knowing that God doesn't have some different set of perceptions in which grief and sorrow don't hurt. |