Wednesday Morning

Dear God--
  I look at the cross and my eyes are not wide enough to understand all that you have done.  My imagination does not run nearly wild enough to begin to dream of what happened at the Place of the Skull--I see death, but my mind is so filled with Easter visions that I cannot, even for a moment, think of the devastation of the disciples at such a scene.  To me, the crucified Lord has always been the risen Lord. 

  But for a time, the Lord was simply crucified.  The tomb was filled, the stone had not yet been rolled away.  You knew, Lord, and I know not, but in the darkest hour of their lives, they had no idea what you had in store for them, despite all of your previous warnings.

  Open my mind and my heart, Lord, that I might imagine anew the future you are calling me into.  Help me to dream, Lord, of the new world into which I go.  I am sure you have left hints around me, showing me what awaits, and I am sure I have ignored these.  Forgive my obtuseness.  Clear my mind, that I might focus on you, and enable me to serve, that I might know what awaits, know how to serve, know how to love.

Amen.

  Last month we had the chance to stand above the tomb of nearly 1,200 sailors whose lives were snatched too soon in the brutal attack on Pearl Harbor.  On a sleepy Sunday morning, the Japanese came in from the north, catching the Pacific fleet unprepared and devastating it.  During the second wave, one bomber happened to place a bomb in the magazine of the USS Arizona, and she still lies on the bottom, a tomb for those who perished and a reminder of the cost of war.

  It was humbling to stand on the white platform, that elegant, simple monument, and think about what was beneath my feet.  It sits perpendicular to the ship's remains, so one can look down the bow and stern and imagine this mighty ship as a proud and tall icon of naval power.  Here and there, parts of the ship poke up through the calm waters, and the flag pole is attached where the Arizona's flag would have stood.

  I tried to understand, to contemplate what it meant to stand there.  I could not shake the feeling of loss--of how tragic it was that over 1,000 people died in this place.  I am extremely grateful to those who served then and serve today, who put themselves in places where things like this can and too often do happen.  I am saddened by the fact that, for centuries, for millennia, war seems to be the answer to conflict.

  When will we learn?  It is my hope and solemn prayer that we might learn to live together in peace, that we will cease to rattle our sabers every time we feel intimidated, and instead will be known by the size of our love.  Paul talks about the power of Christ in 1 Corinthians 1, pointing out how much greater God's wisdom is than our own--may we be willing and courageous enough to follow God's wisdom, rather than our own.

Tuesday Morning

Dear God--
  May this day be rooted in the cross.  May I begin by kneeling before the torture device that you turned into a symbol of your power--may the blood of Christ remind me of the price you paid that I might be set free, and may my gratitude for that you are drive me into the world with joy and love, hoping beyond hope to serve the world for your sake, in your name.  In love you came to save, in love to came to proclaim the good news of your coming kingdom--may this kingdom reign in my heart today.

Amen

10 years

Ten years ago today, my world stopped spinning.  I was awakened by a knocking on our dorm room door, and when my roommate opened it, a friend burst in with the incomprehensible news that Mikhil, one of the best friends any of us had ever had, had gone to bed and not woken up.  Disbelief mixed with shock, and in the moment I had no idea what was happening in that space.

Ten years later, I'm still not sure what happened that morning, and the days that followed went like a blur, a combination of events that progressed as an outsider might have predicted, but as one caught inside the vortex of emotions and disillusion, I was simply along for the ride.  Memorial services left me numb, with the singular exception of the viewing of his body in a funeral home that left me paralyzed with grief.  I will never forget the feelings those tears caused in my soul. 

I still have so many questions surrounding that event.  Most of them begin with why, and perhaps I'm coming to grips that I will never find those answers this side of heaven.  The official cause of death was an enlarged heart, a condition that had no symptoms yet fatal consequences.  The words haunt me to this day, and have brought no closure, no peace, no resolution.  I still long for peace.

My questions remain unanswered, and my heart still mourns for him and his family.  Last night I was staring in the mirror, wondering what I'd done with my ten years that he didn't get.  Have I made good use of them?  Have I lived with passion and purpose?  Or have I wandered aimlessly, not using the time I have, that he didn't, for good?

I don't know why I get ten years, and hopefully many more, and he doesn't.  But it is my ongoing prayer that I use my time for good, to join in with what God is doing on this earth, that I might glorify God in whatever time I have left.