Comfort and Grief

Six years ago, today (28th September, 2005) my mother passed away. Losing a parent - I had always thought (since I was child, for as long as I can remember) that that was the worst thing that could happen and it was. However that sunny September afternoon when Amma died I experienced peace and comfort that I had never imagined possible; that even is a little incredible. But I did. I experienced what I always recall a falling into the cushioning warmth of God’s embrace. I always complain that I don’t experience God as palpably as I would like, looking back if that isn’t a tangible experiencing of God, I don’t know what else can be.

That being said, I would be lying if I claimed that I haven’t experienced grief on account of my mother’s loss and that somehow I have been spared that experience that is all too natural and human; because I do. I feel today a grief so crushing that I can hardly breathe. I can’t speak a few sentences about my mother without melting into a pool of tears. I don’t know what people are talking about when they say, “Time heals” or “We learn to cope.” For in my experience I grieve my mother’s going away more with each passing day. There is so much I want to tell her, fill her in on the trivial and momentous detail that is my life. I want to hear her wise counsel on all that confounds and baffles. I feel no great comfort tonight while I wait for the short-lived numbness that sleep provides.

Perchance, “morn shall tearless be.”

The Luxury of Boredom

Contrary to the busyness of most, my days are so spent in quietude and repose of routine that I have often complained about lacking the feverishness of excitement and exhilaration. There have been many an evening when I have waxed eloquent about the seeming emptiness of the dull hours that stretch before me like an empty road into the ever receding horizon. But lately I have had an encounter that has caused me to see more clearly as if scales have fallen off my eyes.

Recently I read an article in The Economist, “Wars Overlooked Victims” and it narrated the horrors of war like I had never heard it before. I was so sickened that I had to read something else to take those horrifying and deeply disturbing images from my mind (for words do paint a picture that is indelible). Here I was unable to stomach the mere reading about what is a reality for countless women, children and men.

I just turned our television set off after watching the news on BBC. Video footage of bleeding men and fire trucks rolling like a juggernaut on people. And I can't seem to silence the poignant plea of a man who says he just wants a better life. In the tired look of a bandaged young man; in the melancholic image of a woman leaving the refugee camp to get a pail of drinking water not really knowing if she would return without being hurt or much worse raped or killed, I see the longing for a day spent in quietude and the comfort of the restfulness of routine; Yes, even what I complained as emptiness.

I wish and pray that they have the luxury of what I glibly call boredom.

That They Might Have Life

A few days ago I saw one of the most powerful movies I have ever seen. It mirrors the gory details of the struggles that women faced at the work place not too long ago. On more than one occasion during the course of the movie I was choking back tears. In-spite of the resolution of the plot and the outcome of the struggle, I couldn’t help but feel heavy-hearted because not every woman on earth is freed from the tyranny that holds sway. She is treated with so little respect - her word counts for nothing and her struggles more often than not are swept under the rug - at the workplace and even the home fails to provide refuge.

Being married to a God-honoring husband, raised to be independent by loving parents, it is only all too possible for me to take for granted and enjoy the privileges and respect that I enjoy in blissful oblivion of or much worse calloused silence to the misery of countless women around the world, be it in a textile factory in a rapidly developing country, or in the village square of a regressive rural mountain hamlet, or even beneath our very noses.

It was no interesting coincidence that the Scripture reading for the following day was Jeremiah 5. This portion of Scripture echoes that which is evident throughout the Bible (sadly though more often than not we either miss the point or conveniently construe it to suit our climate). The truth that God stands opposed to the exploitation of the frail and the oppression of the feeble is as clearly articulated here as anywhere else. Are we selective in our reading of Scripture because somehow ignorance is bliss and knowledge is inconvenient and often prods us uncomfortably and eventually makes us antsy for action that just might not be pragmatic or is simply unwise?

In the light of the dire predicament that many women find themselves in (it is no secret that women in most parts of the world are viewed as lesser beings, whose troubles are inconsequential at best and at worst brought upon by their own folly), what should our response be? Are we to “promote the case “of the vulnerable? Are we to “defend the cause” of the defenseless? Or are we to exercise caution and restraint when they are being oppressed? It is indeed a sad state of affairs when prophets keep silence or much worse “prophesy lies” and when “priests rule by their own authority” and tell the powerful what they want to hear, instead of submitting to God’s reign where the defenseless are protected and defended.

In the words of the lawyer defending the abused female miner in the movie

“What are you supposed to do, when the ones with all the power are hurting those with none? Well for starters you stand up and tell the truth… you stand up even when you are all alone.”

As children of the living God, are we not called to be prophets of our times and are we not part of “a royal priesthood” and are we not called to speak the truth that God desires none of his creatures to be mistreated? There is just no overstating the importance of our believing and acting upon the truth that we are all created in the image of God from whence we derive dignity – even women.

Peace inspite of the 7 o' clock News

Our lives aren’t any less fettered by “fightings and fears within and without” than that of those who lived two thousand years ago. The Bethlehem Bugle of B.C. 4 would have reported the dreadful news (those near synonymous words) that our very own newspapers carry almost every single day. Lies, cheatings, murders, wars… would have figured in their headlines just as they steal ours.

In the light of the imperfection and warped nature of human predicament, it is not hard to imagine that those folk who were going about their work so long ago would have dismissed the angel choir for the seeming incongruity of the message they were trying to convey, “Peace on earth, goodwill among men.” I wouldn’t have blamed them if they had dismissed the experience as being the result of a combination of the tedium of labour, calamitous political climate and wishful thinking.

It must be credited to them, for they did not allow themselves to be consumed by doubts; It wouldn’t be very far from the truth to imagine that they had in them the peculiar strain to search inspite of doubts; For Scripture narrates that they made haste to Bethlehem and found the baby just as the angel had announced. We know from Scripture and other sources that since that fateful night, things in the world didn’t change. They probably woke up the next day and found that some of their sheep had been stolen and they definitely woke up to the unpleasant reality of the Roman occupation of their country and they continued to be fleeced by those corrupt tax collectors. However their lives changed. In their lives they saw fulfilled the peace that was announced by the angel for they came away praising and glorifying God. While the world remained the way it did, their lives were changed (changed to be agents of change perhaps).

The sorry state of our world should not be an impediment to our encounter with that ancient yet new message of peace on earth and goodwill among men. We will encounter this peace, which often appears paradoxical, only when we meet Christ, even the babe that the shepherds saw in the manger, the Prince of Peace. And our lives will be so changed even if tomorrow morning’s headlines remain the same. And perchance, we will in our small way strive to be the agents of change that God wants to bring about in the world.

Cracks in the Ceiling

In flustered frustration Jake stormed into his room. He had just endured what he thought was a grueling three hour lecture debunking all that he held to be true. This was his first year of undergraduate studies in world religions. In his heart he knew he ought to have defended his faith but it felt as though reason had deserted him and words failed him. While fellow students contributed with jeering remarks and witty quips, he sat as helpless as a nestling that had fallen off the tree, unable to defend his faith in the presence of his skeptical professor and ‘highbrow’ classmates.

He tossed his dog-eared book on the table and lay on his bed looking intently at the cracks in the ceiling wondering why he had been so tongue tied. He was practically raised in the church. Jake, along with his brother, sisters and parents, was an active member of his church. The exemplary life of his parents egged him on to be the Christian that they desired him to be. Growing up, he faithfully attended Sunday school; He never missed a single youth group bible study session. To further bolster this Christian upbringing, inspite of acute financial constraints, his parents ensured that he and his siblings attended a private Christian school.

And now in the presence of these erudite academicians, who appeared to possess a ready answer for the volley of questions directed towards them, Jake felt powerless; And on certain few and far in between days when he did find his voice to deliver a spirited apology, all he could muster for a question like, “Okay, Jake, why does your ‘good’ God allow bad things to happen?” was a staller, “Well…uh.. hmm..”

Intently peering at the cracks in the ceiling, Jake began to mull over and question his very own faith. And the cracks began to widen.

The ‘Jake Scenario’ is not some stray exception to the rule; frighteningly it is becoming the rule with a few exceptions. After four-years in college the percentage of those who call themselves “born-again” falls by 41 percent. Furthermore, according to George Barna only 20 percent of students who were active participants in the life of the church as teenagers remain “spiritually active” (www.barna.org). A dark and despairing verdict indeed!

What has been the Christian response to this dire predicament? (I can’t speak for every Christian response, but only for that which I have seen.) The blame is often put on “faulty curriculum.” And there is livid and irate outburst against liberal professors. In talking about this issue there is no dismissing the findings that 72 percent of professors and instructors in colleges across the U.S. described themselves as liberals. ("College Faculties A Most Liberal Lot, Study Finds," By Howard Kurtz, Washington Post)

That being said I want to add that the woes of the aforementioned dire-predicament don’t solely rest on the percentage of liberal professors. There are a few other contributing factors that aid if not propel this steady decline of young people who call themselves Christians. One could be the reluctance on the part of adult Christians to foster in the minds of children a spirit of enquiry. Difficult questions are rarely discussed around our dinner table. And the Church in most cases is plagued by what John Stonestreet calls the “myth of adolescence,” that treats young people in a way that relegates to a footnote if not dismisses their capacity to think and be interested in profound topics. He further makes a harsh pronouncement when he says, “It is foolish to expect students to take Christianity and the world seriously if all they have been exposed to at youth groups is games, pizza and mindless mini-therapy lessons that may or may not come from Scripture.”

It is more than vital that we tell the rich narrative of God that all of Scripture relates and this grounding would stand them in good stead when the storms of doubts assail. And even when they are still very young it is imperative that we encourage them to ask difficult questions. It is essential that our children know and believe that their faith is reasonable and that they need not check out their intellect in their pursuit of faith. (And that means that we as adults need to think, talk and more importantly find answers for ourselves from Scripture.) Let not those tough questions be steered only along the lines of certain talking points, but let it also enable them to see the plethora of issues that plague the world today – human trafficking, international relations, emerging technologies to mention but a few. We cannot afford to live in the bubble of ignorance and apathy. And more importantly we need to encourage them to find the answers for themselves in the word of God, for He promises us that those who seek in earnestness will find. Next, it is vital that our children are exposed to non-Christian worldviews. So when they hear a liberal professor debunk their faith not only will they be able to defend their faith but also be able to assess his views as stemming from a certain other worldview.

I quite recently came across a one-year-college-level academic program called Insights – Intensive Study of Integrated Global History and Theology. It aims at precisely helping students heading out to college not only to understand their belief but also to understand the different worldviews out there. Its core elements include the Bible, History, Theology, Missions, Culture, Worldview, Religions, Philosophy and Ethics among others. It also enables students to earn college credits. On reading about the program from students who attended this course, I learnt that it enabled them to understand that “the kingdom of God is the theme and the story” they want to live.

It is absolutely vital that we engage our children in meaningful discussions about God and what we believe in; in order that they might find within the confines of a Christian setting scope for questions answered and doubts cleared. For that will definitely bolster their strength to stand up for their faith. In John 14:26 we read that the Spirit of God will enable us to remember what we have been told by God. A prerequisite is in us knowledge of the truth. And it cannot be stated enough that we ought to instill not only in ourselves but also in our children a sound knowledge of the truth so that when the time comes they will be reminded of what they have learnt and will be filled with wisdom and the right words by God even as they defend their faith.

'Apologie' for an Apostle

Brainerd and I have been reading a book these past couple of days. The author makes covert suggestions that the apostle Paul had a clandestine motive for preaching the message that he did. It must be added that the idea she is trying to purport is not even a novelty, but cud that popular media masticates to a pulp. We see countless instances where television documentaries and popular books vie for the attention of an audience who would concur with their undermining of traditionally held values and beliefs.

The author’s not so blatant claims aim at projecting Paul as being an ill-informed, self-contradicting, self-seeking, man who oft allowed the status quo to remain for fear of opposition. She says that the hellenistic Paul never fully understood the essence of the Torah (The Jewish bible, and the first five books of the Christian bible), hence he pitted the gospel of love against the religion of Laws. In addition to this she adds that Paul contradicts himself when he talks about the observance of the Law. Furthermore, she says that Paul fearing the discredit of the Romans abstained from addressing issues like slavery. Finally she delivers what surely would appear like a deathblow to the very germ of traditional Christian belief by suggesting that the Christian faith is but the creation of one man called Paul.

The author’s claims appear alluring till one delves deeper into Scripture. Paul might have been informed by the Greek translation of the Torah, but one must also add that he learned at the feet of Gamaliel, a Palestinian master of Jewish law. Paul doesn’t contradict himself when talking about the Law, rather all along he states the inadequacy of the law in providing salvation; It is vital that we understand that while the Christian faith subscribes to salvation through Christ, nowhere does it undermine the place of good works that the Law requires in the life of a saved human being.

In answering the final suggestions that the author makes regarding the self-seeking nature of Paul, I can only go back to his conversion, the life of hardship and imprisonment and his eventual martyrdom. Paul, an ardent persecutor of the church ,had his life-altering experience on the road to Damascus. His conversion was almost dream-like. Only days ago he participated in the execution of Stephen, one of the early Christian believers, and now he was on his way with letters from the high priest to the synagogues at Damascus authorizing him to bring bound any follower of what was then called the Way. Nothing save divine intervention could have brought about so great a change. So devout a person, could not have abandoned all that he held close to his heart just in order to create personal, posthumous fame. If fear of the Romans held sway in Paul’s life he wouldn’t have willingly allowed himself to stand trial and even face death in the hands of the Romans. In my opinion nothing authenticates the message more than a life so drastically transformed – from persecutor to persecuted!

In Paul we do have a member of “so great a cloud of witness.” May our conversion experience be as real if not as dramatic as Paul’s and may we be willing to be as fearless for the sake of Christ and His gospel.

Speak Oft with the Lord

There are many a memories - priceless, valuable and much cherished memories - of my dear mother, who died a few years ago. She was a darling. No girl could have asked for a better mother. We shared a very beautiful relationship. She told me off when as a mischievous little girl I disobeyed my parents, She counseled me yet gave me the room “to grow up” ( I must admit, looking back I wouldn’t have been as charitable as she was to me), as a young woman I found in my mother my closest friend and confidante. And even now with her gone, every memory of her is vibrantly alive inside my head and I want to keep her thus alive by sharing the legacy she left behind.

My mother whom I fondly called amma was a full time school teacher, a pastor’s wife – full time, and without a moment's hesitation I can avow a full time mother. She was a friend to anyone who just needed a shoulder to cry on, a generous giver to those who needed help (and some of the things that my mother did I only discovered from the various eulogies delivered and crowds of genuinely anguished town-folk at her funeral). In spite of so juggling different roles and responsibilities, she maintained such poise even in the midst of daunting situations and God knows she had to encounter many. Even as a young person in her thirty’s her health was failing and even though that took its toll on her, she never allowed that to get in the way of her cheery disposition.

On seeing her I have often wondered, “Where does she find the strength to do all that she does, even when tied down with a debilitating illness?” And now with her gone I still ponder, “How was she able to live the life she did in spite of those harsh realities that she often encountered?” And in response one image repeatedly comes to my mind; that of my mother in the quiet of the early morning, sitting on “her” chair in the living room, even before any of us woke up, with her glasses perched on her petite nose, poring over her worn-out bible. And I know that time of reading the word of God would be preceded or followed by a time of laying bare her heart to God; the evidence of which was but the quiet movement of her lips or her tear stained face.

Of all the lessons I learned from her, and there are many, the one that I think she would have wanted me to hold onto tenaciously is this “communion with God.” Now I know why she was unfazed while in the midst of agonizing difficulty – in her body, in her spirit and in her mind. She would never attempt to explain her self when misunderstood or maligned; she would never find an excuse to shirk her responsibilities at work and at home; and she did not flinch in the eye of suffering, because she had battled with every burden that threaten to consume her by “taking it to God” in the still of not just a particularly troubling morning but every morning. She did indeed speak oft with the Lord. The lesson she taught, not only with her lips but also through her life, will ever, ever remain with me. May God give me the strength to be at least half the person that she was.