Posts tagged ‘pain’

August 17, 2012

Why Do I Write?

You haven’t seen me blog as much as I normally do lately other than posting sermons. Writing like a crazy woman some days, I’ve sought to give more attention to my book long project instead of other stuff.

When I come out of my writing cave and seek to tell people what I’ve been up to, the number one thing people say often in a condescending tone of voice is: ”That must be so healing for you” or “Writing is so therapeutic, so good for you.”

And in response, I use self-control to not growl. And I really want to growl.

I realize people mean well. They’re just trying to be supportive. Many can’t imagine writing as honestly as I am trying to do.

But, I want to proclaim writing is not an “all about me” task. It’s not something I do rooted in selfish motives. I’ m not trying to throw up my emotional baggage on the world. I write because I am a writer. I write about painful things sometimes because painful things have happened to me and need to be heard. I write about joy sometimes because happy things happen to me and I want to encourage others. I write because like a painter or a carver or a sculptor, word choice is my art form. I write to practice my art. Sometimes what I produce is good art. Other times it needs to be sent back to the drafting board altogether or thrown in the trash. But it’s still art. And I still must write.

If I wrote for therapy, then I should get a journal or talk to a therapist (I already do both from time to time). These things are less painful. More private. Less drafting and wasted paper.

It’s burdensome task, I believe, putting your honest self out to the world, having no idea how people will respond to a story that isn’t just a story to you. It’s your life, and the only one you’ve got. Writing about your own life, I believe, can be one of the most courageous things people do.

Sure, as they say, writing can mature the soul. In writing, the pain has somewhere to go: to the paper. And, when you have to think about something long enough to find just the right word, you usually walk away with heighten self-awareness (which is never a bad thing). Healing and self-awareness are cousins. It’s true.

But I don’t think most writers, write because of personal sickness (though I’m sure some do, but I’m not friends with these folks). I don’t think writers write so that just anyone can know their less than flattering thoughts or moments. I don’t know think they write just to feel better. Writers write to connect them into what it means to be human.

And this is my point: I write because I don’t know how to not write. So if you stick around, you’ll have more to read in the future. And, this is what I can promise you, the stories to come will be my truth.

February 9, 2012

Blessed Are They That Mourn

How many times has it be said about grief: “It’s not a big deal. Why can’t you just get over it?” Or, “Time heals all wounds.”

It is easy for us to say or want to say these words because in doing so we separate the emotion from our participation in it. Grief,  when let loose is confusing. It is consuming and can be all-consuming. Grief always has a life cycle of its own. To be a friend of grief, hard work is required. And, if we are honest, often we really don’t want to work this hard, especially when we see others on what looks like much easier paths.  It is a lot easier to throw up our hands and say, “Life is unfair” than to do the work grief lays out for us. Grief is a messy, very messy process, no matter how trained we are in its ”stages.” 

For the past two Wednesday nights, a group of us from Washington Plaza began a study called, “Sowing Tears, Reaping Joy: The Bible and Brahm’s Requiem.” This study involves the study of scripture texts that appear and inform the words of the requiem as well as listening to sections of the music in a reflective posture. We’ve also taken moments throughout the sessions to pause and share with one another our experiences of grief. Together, as a small group, we are wading in the waters of deep community. It’s not easy to talk about grief, you know!

Besides observing how real and deep and experienced many in this small group are with the study of and process of grief, I’ve also noticed how eager each of us in the class are to sit with the depths of grief together in new ways. (What an unusual gift!)

Part of this re-examining process includes revisiting some of the great mourning texts of the scriptures. We started with some words of Jesus.

When Jesus says in his great Sermon on the Mount, “blessed are they that mourn; for they will be comforted” it seems like a completely wacky paradox, we observed. How could Jesus say such a thing? Especially to our natural human tendency to want to explain away grief with simple answers that seem to make it better as soon as possible . . . so how could we believe such? How could mourning be good for us?

While many psychological experts might jump in and answer our questions quickly, from a spiritual perspective, we’ve talked about grieving because we have to.  In fact, our willingness to embrace grief has a lot to do with what we feel about God. Grief teaches us to sit long with such questions as: “What is God’s plans for this world? How is it that we know God? Who can ultimately be trusted in the midst of our dark moments? Why do good things happen to such bad people?”

Such grief questions do not even have morsels to offer us if we don’t wait. And, wait some more.

Ellen Davis, a professor of mine from seminary said this in a sermon given in 1993 at Berkeley Divinity School, about grief: “From a Biblical perspective, living well with sorrow means dwelling on it, lamenting it before God, allowing-no, committing yourself to search the sorrow, to explore every corner of it, to ransack the emptiness until it yields its treasure, the hidden blessing on those who mourn.”

I can’t think of a more beautiful way to describe the process of “blessed are they that mourn.” For if we refuse to make a friend of grief, both within us and our immediate community, we are also going to also miss out on its great gifts. Again placing the word “grief” and “gifts” in the same sentence sounds wrong to me, doesn’t it to you? But, more and more I am learning that the pain of grief is not diminished if we have open hands to what only grief can bring us: joy. Joy, yes, even in grief and all its pain, there might be joy a coming . . .

Joy in the companionship of friends who love us at our worst.

Joy in the ability to keep going when we have every reason to give up.

Joy in the knowledge that we are seen and known deeply by our Creator.

Blessed are they that mourn– for those who cry, walling, lament, and angrily shout at God for as long as it takes to get it all out–  for in mourning space hope has a possiblity of breaking through.

Any are welcomed to join us on this grief journey for the next five Wednesday nights!

November 29, 2011

Everything Happens for a Reason . . . Not

“Everything happens for a reason” such are words that we, as pastoral care givers are often tempted to use though they are not in the Bible anywhere.

We deal with so much crisis. We get tired of saying profound things. We want to feel good about the care we are giving, knowing that our care is making a difference. We want to give people hope that their suffering is not in vain, that it will amount to something greater in the end. We want to be an expert with something to offer the pain of those in whom we are called to care about.

But the truth is we are not God. Sometimes there are no answers. And trying to give a plastic answer often makes it worse. (Read the book of Job lately?)

When I hear the words “everything happens for a reason,” it’s like scraping the chalkboard of my soul. For, as much as I am tempted to say such as a way to easily explain away life’s pains for myself and others as a pastor myself, I simply can’t say (or even hear) these words.

For everything doesn’t happen for a reason. Sometimes life just sucks in this sin sick filled world we live in.  And often it is not our fault. It just is.

I grew up in a tradition of faith that taught when bad things happened in your life it was the result of either a) a major personal screw up b) being out of touch with a close relationship with God via doing things like regular Bible reading, church attendance and tithing regularly. I was taught about a ”if/ then God.”  If I do what God wants, then God will bless me.

I truly bought in to this way of thinking as a child, believing that if something was going wrong in my life, it was somehow my fault. God must be punishing me or trying to teach me a lesson. I remember the day my youth group leader told us that you could tell who was living right by who God was blessing with good grades, winning sport games at school, and happily finding mates after completing their “true love waits” pledge to remain sexually pure until marriage. What lies. And it got worse . . . we were told that those who faced difficult life circumstances such as death of family member, the coming of an earthquake or fire, or whose marriages fell apart usually resulted from sin. The reason for these horrible things happening was God saying: ”Clean up your act.”

Maybe for those of us who are leaders in giving care to others, we can find ways not to either explain away life’s troubles with “it will all be good in the end” or “it is somehow your fault” instead to simply be with those in pain. Sure, there might be something beautiful that comes out of life’s most tragic moments, but it doesn’t take away the gut-wrenching grief of the process.

For I believe it is not important to figure out the why’s of suffering– life is simply too complex and mysterious such answers– rather to simple be present in life’s moments whatever they may be.  Knowing that as we stay close to whatever emotions we are feeling, whatever is troubling our souls, there will be a path of peace to lead us to quieter waters someway somehow.

Let us stop, my caregiver friends, making this pastoral fail. I wrote this blog for this reason.

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