2017. What a year it has been… For us as individuals, a community, a nation, a Church… Amen?
Reminders of our frail, ever-expiring human state are a daily occurrence. Between mass shootings, home-wrecking hurricanes, & the loss of so many loved ones, we are constantly being torn to pieces. This is the state we live in.
Yet, this is the place hope is born: right in the middle of the hopelessness.
I see us coming together right in the places where we are ripping–present tense–at the seams.
Life is pervading in the midst of all this death.
“Because there’s death in life & life in death,” the chorus from a song our friend Andrew wrote, in the days proceeding & inspired by our son Oliver’s death, hits me right in the core of my being. Life & Death, they are hand in hand. You can’t have one without the other–not in this earth, anyways.
I’ve never been a fan of songs that wrap up the human experience in 3 minutes. It just…isn’t realistic. A good song, just like life, captures & puts you in a moment, then it asks you what you’re going to do with the next.
So the question remains & will remain as long as you have a choice (yes, if you’re reading this, you still have a choice): what are you going to do with your next moment in all of this Life & Death?
** I took the above photo after angrily walking out of a worship service just weeks after Ollie had passed. Confused & hurt, & watching time inch along without bringing any healing, I cried out to God asking “why?” & wondering if the life of my son would go forgotten. Moments later, I looked up to see this grave, the marker of an infant girl who’d passed on her birthdate 177 years before then. I wept, trusted & imagined the hope this little girl’s parents would’ve had knowing their daughter’s short life would have such an impact so many years later.