Friday, May 9, 2008

A GOOD DAY FOR A SPRITZ OF SADNESS

It's going to rain all day today so here's a rainy piece written a while back.


A mist of sadness spritzes the terrain of my soul again today. Actually, this damp chill pretty much defines the daily weather pattern in one region of my inner life. I’m not sure what to name this part of myself except to describe it with words like despair, sadness and melancholy. Oddly, I’m not terribly worried about these dark emotions. My Christianity has led me to conclude that I need them.

Many want to escape feelings of sadness and employ a variety of tools to do so. Friends often work to “cheer up” the sad, hoping to hurry the sufferer onto sunnier pathways. As a pastor I like preaching hope. In fact, I cannot remember a time I’ve encouraged despair from my pulpit.

My August vacation initiated my latest sojourn into this sad land. My family and I enjoyed the beauty of Virginia’s Shenandoah Valley. We spent the better part of two days traipsing through Civil War battle fields where good men, many who were deeply dedicated Christian men, not unlike myself, slaughtered one another. Those from the south defended State rights and slavery. Those from the north championed federalism and “freedom” all the while practicing an equally dehumanizing form of labor in her factories. Both could only see the sins of the other and neither could find a nonviolent way to resolve the great issues.

At Coaling Hill my mind wandered back to my youthful days when Holy Spirit filled members of my holiness denomination fought over campground properties, leveling accusations and hurling barbs against one another. No blood was spilled, at least not the kind a bandage can staunch. But each side inflicted painful wounds.

My wife and I celebrated our anniversary in the Massachusetts Berkshires the following week. Waiting for the Boston Symphony to begin our last night, I leafed through the program founding this observation by Serge Koussevitzky, music director from 1924 – 1949. “So long as art and culture exist there is hope for humanity.” Thinking of my recent battle field reflections, I wondered how anyone could believe what seemed to me such blatant naiveté.

Soon after returning home Katrina struck. Natural disasters happen every year around the globe stealing the life of someone’s family member or friend and wrecking havoc with those left behind. As beautiful as the world of my vacation was, land and sea are menacing places. One is tempted to embrace the sarcasm of a recent cartoon in which the fellow responds to news of Katrina, “So THIS is intelligent design.” Yet the same Christian understanding that leads me into despair won’t allow me to embrace this sarcasm.

This autumn I and my congregation are plunging into the Old Testament, seeking helpful insights for our lives. The opening pages of the Bible, remind me that something has gone terribly wrong with the planet including the world of human relationships. Nothing is quite the way God intelligently and lovingly designed it. Everything good has been twisted by alienation from God, including myself, Mississippi and Louisiana.

The New Testament observes, “The whole creation has been groaning as in the pains of childbirth. We ourselves, groan inwardly as we wait eagerly for our adoption as sons, the redemption of our bodies. For in this hope we were saved” (Romans 8:22-24).

I easily become wrapped up in daily life. I enjoy my home, my car, Cherry Garcia ice cream, the mountains, the shore and much more. Though my mind protests, my enjoyment of physical things suggest that materialism defines my practice of “life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness.” That’s why I need an occasional foray into the land of despair. It reminds me that I cannot attach my joy or place my hope in the good experiences of the material world, for sooner or later that world will turn on me in tragedy. Neither can I anchor my joy or hope in people, any people, Christian or otherwise. The best people inflict wounds, sometimes fatal wounds. Ironically, the quality of my life demands that I embrace despair of this life.

Though I enjoy this world and work to make it a better place, my joy and hope must reach beyond everything this life offers to that future when my body will be made new and placed in a new heaven and new earth (2 Peter 3:13). As a Christian, I believe that this future reality is available to anyone through the death and resurrection of Jesus Christ. I believe it is joy and hope rooted only in a living Jesus that saves me from an overwhelming flood of despair.

Therefore, I have come to welcome an occasional walk through melancholy drizzle. I need it. So please don’t try and cheer me up, just yet.