Peace in the Midst - Audio

Dr. Diehl is devoted to Jesus Christ, an experienced preacher/pastor/minister, and a grandfatherly storyteller. He has served in full-time ministry for much of his adult life, including some very challenging roles. I was glad to hear some of his story as he spoke a few weeks back in Nampa, Idaho. I wrote just briefly then about his Wednesday talk, and the audio of Dr. Diehl is available now here.

Sanctuary

"I can't talk with other people about this. They wouldn't understand."

I've heard words like these many times -- and have expressed them some myself, too -- about addiction, abuse, fear, doubt, family trouble, and all sorts of other troubling issues. Though I don't always say it, my internal response is usually "You'd be surprised."

Working in a residential treatment center, serving in hospital chaplaincy, ministering in churches, and talking with friends, I've found the sentiment to be a common one, and it is based on the lie that everyone else has it all together. In hiding from each other, we hide from ourselves and from God, too. We can create barriers that keep us from reaching out even when we're so close. It's an awfully lonely way to live.

Anne Jackson describes the historical right of sanctuary in the Christian church, which defended criminals from execution or other unfair judgment and provided a place for criminals to find refuge until they received pardon or fair punishment. Churches still call their meeting places "sanctuaries," and I love how Jackson describes it:

"Church is a place for us to claim

the right of a modern-day sanctuary

where we can name our sins or ask our questions

and be protected and sheltered while we search

for grace, forgiveness, and answers."

The Church is not a building; it is people who follow God. And Jackson's word describe pretty well the kind of people I want to be.

Peace in the Midst

Camp Meetings have been significant in Nazarene history and this tradition still continues in a variety of forms. From what I understand, people would travel to a particular place and camp out there for a week or two with the intent and expectation of focusing on God through worship, preaching, community, rest, etc. Some of the details have changed over time, but this purpose has remained. This is a good thing.

Curious, seeking space to focus on God, and having a few flexible days available this year, I decided to attend and experience this event which has clearly been influential in the lives of many over the years.

Dr. Diehl is speaking this year. He talked last night about peace that comes from God and told some of his own story. He talked about being saved, and he talked about being sanctified. Then, in that context, he talked about grieving the death of his son. He told us that no matter how "spiritual" we are, it hurts to be hurt. That's just part of being human.

Dr. Jim Diehl

I think we need to hear that, and to acknowledge it. Life sometimes throws awfully difficult stuff, and everyone experiences this to some degree. To try to sweep the hurt under the rug, or to pretend that it doesn't matter, is to lie about reality.

Dr. Diehl spoke truth about hurt. He also spoke truth about peace. He loves his son and grieves Dave's death. Dr. Diehl's God-given peace is not an absence of struggle, but in the midst of it. It's also not just nice-sounding-but-distant theology; he is living it. He knows what he is talking about.

There is much more I could say, but... not now, not here. The service (at least the preaching part) was recorded last night and will be available soon. Let me know if you're interested.

Look at Me

The Bible's story of Job is an ancient one of a righteous man struggling through some serious losses.  He trusts God and yet has a hard time reconciling his experience with his understanding of God's nature.  When Job's friends Eliphaz, Bildad, and Zophar hear about his troubles, they come to sympathize with him and comfort him.  They weep and sit quietly with him, joining in his grief (Job 2:11-13).  They "mourn with those who mourn" (Romans 12:15).

They weep for days.  Then, eventually, Job speaks.  He feels his losses deeply and cannot fathom why all those awful things have happened to him.  He begins to put words to his grief and wrestle with how God could possibly allow such things in his life.  Job doesn't curse God; he simply and honestly expresses being troubled by a very difficult situation.  After all, he says,

"Does a wild donkey bray when it has grass,

or an ox bellow when it has fodder?"  (Job 6:5)

Unfortunately, his friends, who had so patiently and sympathetically sat with him in his mourning, now feel compelled to argue, insisting that Job has somehow brought all of this trouble upon himself.  They try to explain away his grief by explaining away the situation.  Not surprisingly, this approach is not helpful.

So... why do Job's friends do that?  Why do all of them feel compelled to chime in?  Why all the extended speeches after their chatter-less compassion?  Perhaps, as Job suggests, they were afraid, for the challenge Job presented was not just to his own faith, but to theirs as well:

"Now you too have proved to be of no help;

you see something dreadful and are afraid."  (Job 6:21)

Perhaps, too, Job's friends have become so defensive that they lose sight of the reality of his pain.  Perhaps they have begun talking abstractly, talking to themselves more than to Job, speaking to theology more than to a human being.  Perhaps.


Job's words early in this conversation catch my attention:

"But now be so kind as to look at me..."
(Job 6:28)

Job does not need information in this time nearly so much as he needs consolation.  He can be consoled first not by doctrine but by the empathetic presence of friends willing to acknowledge that life is sometimes horribly unfair, and Job naturally has an awfully hard time with that.

Sometimes a quiet, gentle presence is the most difficult gift to give, and the most important one we can offer.

Good Friday

Good Friday is a somber day, remembering Jesus’ death by crucifixion.  I remember trying to explain it to a former co-worker several years ago, something like this:  “It is a time to remember and honor the death of Jesus, so Good Friday services are usually like a funeral.”  But that doesn’t seem quite right, because I haven’t been to a lot of funerals as persistently somber and dark as Good Friday.  Perhaps the mood of a typical Good Friday service isn’t like a funeral so much as it’s like a funeral would have been if Jesus had stayed in the tomb.  In Good Friday and the day following, we acknowledge the despair of the time between the certainty of Jesus’ death and the hope-giving miracle of his resurrection.

I am grateful for Good Friday because life still includes times when everything seems to be turned upside down, hopes dashed, outcome uncertain, salvation not yet apparent.  We celebrate the joy of Christ’s birth at Christmas, and his resurrection on Easter – these are absolutely foundational to Christian hope.  It is good, too, to respect the in-between times.

Not Forever

We've been having some great discussions in the Wednesday night Bible study. I find myself learning something new every week, seeing scripture and people -- including me -- from new perspectives.

One of the gold nuggets I found this week is in the temptation of Jesus in the wilderness. The devil came to tempt Jesus, misusing the promises of scripture in attempt to get him to compromise into doing wrong. Jesus responded each time by standing his ground and doing what was right. "Then the devil left him, and angels came and attended him" (Matthew 4:11).

It was a good reminder that difficult times do not last forever. Grief, temptation, anger -- all of these wax and wane. Standing firm just a little longer, especially when it seems too much, provides space for victory.

It reminds me, too, of what Paul wrote to the Ephesians:

"Therefore put on the full armor of God,

so that when the day of evil comes,

you may be able to stand your ground,

and after you have done everything,

to stand" (Ephesians 6:13).

-- Debi

Emergencies Welcome

"EMERGENCIES WELCOME"

I love this sign. It's technically from a dentist's office, I think, but there is something more significant here. Emergencies are inconvenient and painful, a disturbance to everyday life. They add an element of unpredictability. To welcome emergencies is to create hospitable space in a not very hospitable time.

Isn't that who we should be as a church? By definition, much of life is routine -- eating, sleeping, working, and so forth. Love and faithfulness should shine through such routine moments. At the same time, it is right and good to create space in our hearts and minds and schedules for the other moments, too -- bumps in the road that range from inconvenience to crisis.

Emergencies happen. There is certainly no need to manufacture them! But when they come, we can welcome them with God's grace and love.

-- Debi