Alone in a college dorm room, the youngest camper at an intense sports camp for swimmers, I ached to be home. We woke early, were in the pool by 6 a.m. and swam and swam and swam some more. Dry land training in the heat of a South Carolina summer and meals in the chaotic cafeteria punctuated all the hours soaked in chlorine. There were nods to fun - a movie night and some other social events. The older girls were kind to me, but uninterested in keeping me company given the dynamics of adolescents away from home and only moderately supervised. My 12-year-old self retreated to my single room and read a book, called home from the hall phone and tried to present an upbeat attitude even as I longed for my parents to come and rescue me.
They knew then, and I know now, the parenting wisdom of allowing one's child to tough it out and gain resilience through challenges that they know are safe even if their child finds them terrifying. They knew this well-worn wisdom, and yet, the night before the last day of camp, they arrived at my door, unannounced, and took me to dinner. They let me stay with them in the hotel and save face by returning the next early morning to participate in the camp's concluding rituals. To this day their unexpected, early appearance remains a definition of grace to me. They recognized my pain and they relieved it, conventional wisdom be damned. Mercy trumped teaching me a life lesson that would no doubt be learned eventually anyway.
Sometimes we are left to endure painful circumstances. Sometimes there is no one to help relieve our suffering. Sometimes we must gut it out, exercise grit, toughen up or collapse. Sometimes the loneliness lingers well past the time we thought we could survive it. Sometimes we feel homeless no matter how comfortable our surroundings. Sometimes we have no idea which way to go despite all the people giving us well-meaning directions. Sometimes those who seek to stone the innocent succeed and succeed again. Sometimes the foundations upon which we stand shift and even crumble.
No wonder our hearts are troubled. As we continue to be the church scattered and maintain our physical distance even from those we love the most, we cannot help but long for a great homecoming, a big, huge family reunion. Wouldn't it be grand if all the people we love and especially those we've lost in this season showed up on our doorstep unannounced, and we were all together again? Would that a respected and beloved mentor heard our sadness despite our best efforts to keep it together and came to show us the way forward. Could not God our Father come and rescue us from this devastation, this isolation, this free-floating fear of what might happen next? Come, Jesus, and take us to that place prepared just for us so that we can join the whole household of God and party together until we're tired and then retreat to our room, our space, our little corner of God's heavenly mansion to rest in utter confidence and safety.
Jesus, the way, the truth and the life, we believe, help our unbelief.
Right now, there is grief upon grief as we huddle behind our respective doors, unable to be with those we ache to see and touch. I heard
a story about New Orleans the other day, that city that once again knows the sorrow of expansive loss and suffering. The leader of the band the Brass-A-Holics detailed the cumulative grief of hearing about death, after death, after death. He talked with a friend whose mother had died. His friend lamented the inability to have a funeral, to bring family and friends in town. He said normally they would be at the church, "ready to bring her home." Winston "Trombone" Turner couldn't bear the circumstances anymore, so he decided to get his bandmates together, outside, at a safe distance. He instructed them to dress like they would for church and "bring her home." They played and sang "I'll Fly Away." As they did, Turner said people started to gather and cry. He said, "They knew what we were doing."
We all want to be brought home. We ache for the embrace of the Father who runs out to meet us regardless of the mistakes we've made. We long for the the love of a mother who refuses to abandon us no matter that it pierces her soul to see us in pain. We yearn for the acceptance of siblings who know us and welcome us despite how long we've been apart. We want a place of safety and refuge and relief when everything around us seems threatening. When it seems impossible, we want someone to come and bring us home. And Jesus promises us he will.
Jesus tells us to believe. Believe in God, believe in him. He is the way, the truth and the life. He goes to prepare a place for us, a space in the household of God, a room in the mansion of heaven. While we wait that great homecoming, the glorious family reunion, we are the holy priesthood, the living stones of spiritual houses right here and now. We are the ones who exercise mercy when conventional wisdom says we should let people tough it out. We are those who dress for church and go out into the streets and sing hope to the brokenhearted. We are the followers of Jesus Christ, praying forgiveness for the violent and the cruel, trusting that God loves them, too. We are the ones who believe in Jesus and live in hope and ask God for the courage to do the works that Jesus did and does. We are the ones who know where our home is, know there is room there for everyone, and therefore no one's heart need be troubled. We are the ones who have the privilege and responsibility to go with Jesus and bring people home.
This week:
- When have you felt as if someone prepared a place for you? What did that feel like?
- How is your heart troubled this week? Does this passage from John ease your troubled heart? What brings you relief when you are troubled?
- Who in your community or church family is struggling right now? How can you create a space of refuge and relief for them?
- What does it mean that we are living stones being built into a spiritual house? What kind of building is our life creating in the world?
- How does this story of the stoning of Stephen help you understand Jesus' command to pray for our enemies? For whom do you need to pray?
- What are the works of Jesus that we are to do?
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