JR. Forasteros - June 10, 2018
The Longest Walk
Change is always scary. No matter how dysfunctional our 'normal' is, it still feels like home to us. But God loves us too much to leave us in our sin and pain. Jesus invites us to go somewhere new with him. But to do that, we have to leave. We see a model of faithful leaving in the story of Abram's call. He left without a plan... only a promise of God's presence.
From Series: "The Way, Way Back"
What's Summer without a road trip? We're travelling back to the stories of the Patriarchs - Abraham, Isaac, Jacob and Joseph. They lived on the road, and in their travels, they encountered God in strange and unexpected ways. What do we learn about God on the road that we can't learn when we stay in our comfort zones? How might God be calling us to go somewhere new, following after our creator?
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In the years after Hurricane Katrina devastated the city of New Orleans, I went to the city to do relief work several times. It was during those trips I learned that what victims of disasters want most isn’t necessarily the relief work. Every trip went more-or-less the same:
A big group of us would show up and get to work. Maybe we were gutting a home so it could be cleansed of mold and rebuilt. Maybe we were cleaning up vacant lots to beautify a city block for the other residents. Mostly we were gutting homes – tearing out sheetrock and ripping up flooring. It was brutal, exhausting work, particularly in the New Orleans summers.
The residents would always be nearby, helping if they could or in their FEMA trailers making lemonade for us workers.
And inevitably, over the three or four days we were there, each of us would end up just sitting and talking with that resident. Despite the fact that we were on a schedule. Even though we were working hard to get their home finished.
What they needed most wasn’t a new home (though, obviously, that was important).
What they needed most wasn’t our strong backs and hard work. What they needed most, every time, was human interaction. They needed to tell their story, to be seen and heard, to know they’re not alone in their grief.
Again and again, what gave them hope was not the pounding hammers and loaded wheelbarrows, but a person sitting with them, being present with them.
What does it means to be WITH someone in times of grief? The final movement of Lament is hope, an anticipation that grief is not the final word.
