Deep Disappointment and Simple Graces

It has been a tough week. In fact, that is probably why I have not written until now.

As you know from my "Welcome to Hell" post, I was bearing some pretty heavy burdens from last weekend's Army drill. Meanwhile, my wife was at her wit's end with the unending demands of parenting and her husband nowhere in sight. Naturally, our reunion was not the thing of fairy tales.

But we got down and dirty and started to work things out. My wife and I are best friends and we have always been able to talk, by God's grace. Like all other couples, we face constant hardships, misunderstandings, and sometimes, just can't over ourselves. If we are both pulled in a million directions, we don't talk and things get worse. But when the Lord allows us to come back together, the healing begins. It's a marriage I wouldn't trade for anything in the world.

I'm glad the waters had started flowing again in our communication, because Wednesday was brutal. While not in financial straights, I have long planned to get a supplementary job to go alongside my part-time work at the church and marginal work with the Army. In the past, this has come with doing Army funerals, marriage retreats, etc, but that largely seems to have dried up.

Then a very cool possibility appeared--running for school board. I have a background in politics and experience in education--through teaching and through policy work. It also would be a wonderful complement to my church work in the community. My good buddy in town is a village trustee and county supervisor. He knew how to help me make my way through the process. I filed paperwork, was put on the ballot, and had likely secured the only school board endorsement from the most powerful interest group in town.

But it all came crashing down. Late on Tuesday night, I looked closely at the district map and realized that half of my street is in the Falls district and the other in Hamilton. I had a meeting the next morning with the superintendent and president of the school board. The meeting lasted 2 minutes. They realized that we had all missed where my house was on the street, and I was disqualified.

The Lord had sustained me the couple days prior with some extra time in Word and prayer, but this felt devastating. There was no time to re-file paperwork for any other local, non-partisan office. This seemed like the best use of some of my untapped passions and abilities. And all of a sudden, back at square one--like the several weeks of effort had never happened.

I took the rest of the time that was allotted for the meeting that morning, went back to the church, and just played the piano and sang Psalms. I appreciate the sheer emotion of that portion of sacred Scripture in such moments. In the Lord's providence, I had another meeting just a little while later with the man who inspected my home before we bought it. He is a fellow believer (I learned that day) and was unable to make our housewarming, so I arranged coffee with him. The cynic in me was asking at that moment "What, Lord, is the purpose of this meeting at a time like this?"

Of course, God's providence is most powerful, wise and holy. And on that overcast morning, He reminded me of the importance of Christian fellowship. I was able to share my burden with this brother I hardly knew. He and his wife had only returned to the faith in the past couple years, and he was eager to learn. We talked about our families, and how we can best encourage them with the Gospel. This is one of the reasons why Christ's bride is so precious! How our downcast souls need such pinpricks of light!

He felt bad because he asked me so many questions about defending the faith. But our fits of depression and anger are fundamentally selfish. The thing we most need in our suffering is opportunities to be in relationship and to care for others. In the course of such things, we remember that God's work in this world is not confined to our petty moods.

That night, my dear wife took my boy to our weekly father-son community recreation time so that I could focus on time with my brothers on the session for our monthly meeting. As we wrestled over lots of joyous and difficult issues for the church, they also ministered to me in their care, wisdom, and empathy. Again, I count it a joy to serve alongside these godly shepherds of the sheep.

The next day, I got a lot of work done at the church (catching up in part from drill weekend and the rough setbacks earlier in the week). Thus, my mind was free that night for a wonderful date with my wife at a very good German restaurant. After brief errands at Target and Home Depot (this is what married couples do on dates), we synced back up over schnitzel and learned even more about one another. The learning never ends!

Yesterday morning, another believer I hardly knew proved to be a great blessing to me. We met at Toastmasters on Monday and discovered our mutual excitement for the Gospel. Over coffee, this young man explained how both he and his wife had come to own Christ as their Savior over the past year. And he described how God sustained him over years spent in foster care and constant abandonment. What is a lost professional opportunity compared to this?!

And this is also why we delight in new converts in our churches. While those who have known and loved Jesus from the womb teach us of God's steady, faithful grace, those who come to know Jesus later in life teach us of God's dramatic, overpowering grace. Oh, how the angels in Heaven rejoice!

This morning, I led a weekly run with my Meetup group, meeting 4 new people. My family then went out for breakfast, where I played with my boy in the snow before watching him share his bacon with his sister. This afternoon, we went to a neighbor kid's birthday party, where we reconnected with many of the friends from our housewarming. It was at a large gymnastic facility, and my boy jumped from a platform twice his height into a pit of foam blocks over and over again. As I clapped for him, my baby girl also clapped for him (she started doing that today). Meanwhile, my wife got chatted with many of our young neighbor families and got several phone numbers for follow-up.

She is now enjoying a movie with one of her friends from church as I sit here, having put the kids down for the night, following the Pack game on Gamecast and writing a long overdue blog. And as I conclude this post, I remember why God always tells us to "remember" in Scripture. When we survey our past instead of getting lost in the myopia of the moment, we inevitably see His tender, loving hand at work.

Tomorrow, I will have the privilege of hearing the Lord address my weary heart in both the morning and evening. Alongside the morning sermon, I will play and sing a compilation of Psalms 22 and 23, which connect the suffering of Christ with His shepherd-care of His people. I may not always know how His rod and His staff are at work, but I know they are borne by wounded hands that bled for me.

"Welcome to Hell"

The Special Ops platoon was mostly rookies, so when they hit the ground, they were expected to make rookie mistakes. Except this one cost them mightily.

A woman carrying a baby raced toward them as soon as they landed, crying for help. A number of them raced to her aid. They didn't know. She exploded and took many of them with her.

As this was unfolding, two children came racing toward two of the other soldiers. They were the follow-on attack. The more experienced of the two soldiers aimed his weapon at one kid, then the other. Took them both out. He looked over at the inexperienced guy: "Welcome to Hell."

This story was recently relayed to me by a young vet who is now out of the Army. He was the inexperienced guy. The day he returned home, his three pre-teen nephews raced to greet them. He sprung into action and leveled all three of them, then choke-slammed his brother.

This vet just had his first kid and has to leave the house whenever the baby cries. His girlfriend often stays with her parents because she finds him scary. He seems to be getting worse. He scares himself.

I was really disturbed by this conversation. I grieve over the things this soldier had to do against an often inhuman enemy. I grieve over how the wounds have carried over into the very places where this soldier should find hope and healing.

And this all puts the lie to the ridiculous notion that other professions--teacher, peace corps, etc.--are as noble and sacrificial as being a soldier. Who amongst our citizen, have to delve so deep into the darkness to preserve just a bit of light?

Thankfully, the Lord in His grace does not allow this world to devolve into a veritable hell. He provides "common grace" (ordinary, as opposed to the "saving grace" that redeems sinners) remedies, like police to patrol the streets, doctors to treat diseases, soldiers to defend precious values and peoples, and an innate desire amongst many to not cave to the most base of their desires.

So how to you care for someone who has been an earthly version of Hell? Well, you let them speak of their hell. You allow them to paint the landscape in unflinching detail, and as they weep, you weep with them. Such tragedies deserve tears.

Over time, you want to help them plant trees and re-landscape their arid mental terrain. Show them things worth loving, and how those things can be enjoyed. Finally, point them vertically to Heaven, where a sovereign God still reigns over and cares for His world, and point them horizontally to His return--when all things hellish will be banished from the garden, and the landscape will be populated with life, love, holiness, and healing.

Much easier said than done. But in God's grace, it's a start.

Thank you to all who prayed for my drill weekend. We had the usual handful of soldiers for the morning chapel at my regular (headquarters) unit. I conducted another chapel at our Pewaukee unit on the way back and proclaimed the Gospel to perhaps 40 soldiers--an incredible number based on prior experience, and perhaps showing the hunger of a unit that rarely sees a chaplain!