“Listen carefully: Unless a grain of wheat is buried in the ground, dead to the world, it is never any more than a grain of wheat. But if it is buried, it sprouts and reproduces itself many times over. In the same way, anyone who holds on to life just as it is destroys that life. But if you let it go, reckless in your love, you’ll have it forever, real and eternal.
John 12:24-25
One of the reasons it has been difficult to blog these past few months is the scale on which things have NOT gone according to plan. I kept working, hoping, stubbornly watching for breakthrough-- for the cascade of flailing ministry opportunities to get itself in order. But it didn't. Instead, weeks passed when people did not return my phone calls or emails. Teams did not get finalized or even assembled. Initiatives fell flat where I had most hoped for influence and forward movement.
What was particularly strange was the steady knowledge that this was the Lord's doing. I knew that only God could have lined up the all-star plan I thought was in place at mid-summer. I was excited about what a perfect fit many of the projects were for me and for those with whom I connected. Yet, much like the Holy Spirit prevented Paul and Timothy from certain missions (Acts 16:6-7), I felt that God was also the one blocking this work from me. I tried to get around it but couldn't. It felt like God was killing what I loved.
In recent years, I have loved my work. Probably too much. It is a great thing to enjoy what you do - and a tremendous privilege - but oh how easily some of us turn it into an idol. Things get especially dicey when we get wound up in "doing God's work," and it becomes this thing that we think we have some kind of control over.
Ack, I really like control. And that, sadly, is a sticking point when it comes to actually following Jesus and dying to self. In the months of confused processing and trying to figure out what to do (keep trying harder? look elsewhere? look busy?), I kept running into the story of Jesus at the death of Lazarus. At first I just grumbled about it: "What, God? You want me to be like Mary and Martha and affirm that I still believe in Jesus even when things are hard?" So I would pray for more faith (help my unbelief). But then, my wonderful spiritual director made a stunning point that changed my focus in that Bible story. What if, in that shortest verse in the Bible, God wanted us to know that it is okay to mourn death? It is okay to be sad, to grieve, to be human. Even the son of God, who KNEW what he was going to do (raise his friend from the dead), needed to weep, because the loss was real.
Losing the sense of direction and progress in the ministry I've been doing has been devastating. I know that sounds silly, but the grief is real. Admitting my sadness and mourning did me a lot more good than trying to cheer myself up with a forced hope of resurrection. So whether it's a person, a project, or even an idea, Jesus weeps with us in the face of death. Weeping does not mean it is the end; it just means that it hurts.
Weep, and water the seeds that God buries in your life. When they sprout and produce fruit (as we trust they will), it doesn't negate the pain of separation and burial, but at least it reminds us that God brings new life out of death. Death never has the final word with God.