How Long, O Lord?

I’m in an online women’s Bible study that just started going through the book of James last night, and my home church had its second week of sermons on politics this Sunday. I am being reminded to “count it all joy” . . . “when you meet trials of various kinds” (James 1:2). I am being reminded that what affects me the most emotionally is a good sign of what I worship, that politics can become a false religion. I’m being reminded that the mature Christian will be filled with the fruits of the Spirit – love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control (Galatians 5:22-23).

But today, 200,000 people in my country are dead from Covid-19, many of which were preventable if our government had gotten its act together. But today, I cannot go outside because my lungs cannot handle breathing the air left behind by the fires surrounding us, people are losing their homes, and people have died while our president  repeatedly mocks our state and threatens not to send help. But today, three police officers who killed a black woman in her own house walked out of the court with little to no consequences, yet again. But today, myself and others like me who have lost our jobs due to the coronavirus search the news frantically to see if the government has finally found a compromise to help us with bills, our lost health insurance, and other needs. But today, my brother-in-law has to process the Zoom meeting he just had with his school district saying that he and all the other special education teachers will be going back to teaching in person on campus in October, even though they were given no plan on how this will actually be safe for them, their students, and their families. But today, evangelical pastors flout the law and refuse to take precautions on behalf of their parishioners because they’d rather take a political stance siding with a president that couldn’t care less about them. 

Today, I don’t know how to “count it all joy,” how not to be so emotionally invested in what’s going on politically, how to be at peace. Today I have no fun gifs with which to sprinkle my post. All I can do is listen to songs of lament on repeat, let the tears spill, let my heart hurt, lift up my voice in moaning grief and seething anger to my God, this God who cares for the vulnerable and lost, the widow and orphan, the sojourner and the poor so much that He came to earth to live amongst them, befriend them, teach them, feed them, heal them, then die for them. 

O, how my soul grieves! O, how my heart burns in anger! O, how my very body longs for God’s return and the redemption of this broken world! O, how helpless I feel, shut up rather safe and comfortable in my mother’s house, unable to fix anything for anyone, unable to even hug friends to comfort them, or march for righteous justice, or weep with my church in person! O, how I yearn for a new day to dawn of empathy and compassion, generosity and love! 

Politics is surrounding and directly affecting all of these things and more. There are immediate and long term needs everywhere I look. There is violence and hatred, cruelty and selfishness, a deep desire for power and a lack of care for those who need it most when I look at the political landscape. There is pain and loss and heartbreak, illness and death, grief and anger for so many who are meant to be served by our government.

Tears, slow yet steady, run down my face as I type this. I have no answers but my cries to the God of the universe, my Father, my creator, who IS love. Another day I will try to wrap my head around how to balance loving others well in this political landscape, how to find joy in it, how to find hope in the Lord in the midst of it, how to speak truth with love, how not to judge others harshly, how to view politics as important but not ultimate, how to participate in politics in ways that love my neighbors and help enact God’s desire for the flourishing of others, especially the vulnerable. Another day I, like David, will rejoice in God’s steadfast love and remember His bountiful gifts to us. But today I lament. Today I wish for sackcloth and ashes. I wish to tear out my hair and wail in the streets. Today I cannot stop the tears, I will not stop them. Today I will pray in sobs and songs and groans and wordless numbness. Today I will not be ok.

Psalm 13
To the choirmaster. A Psalm of David.
 
How long, O Lord? Will you forget me forever? 
How long will you hide your face from me? 
How long must I take counsel in my soul 
and have sorrow in my heart all the day? 
How long shall my enemy be exalted over me? 
Consider and answer me, O Lord my God; 
light up my eyes, lest I sleep the sleep of death, 
lest my enemy say, “I have prevailed over him,” 
lest my foes rejoice because I am shaken. 
But I have trusted in your steadfast love; 
my heart shall rejoice in your salvation. 
I will sing to the Lord 
because he has dealt bountifully with me.

Of Toddlers and Time Travel

My four year old niece is just beginning to grapple with the concept of time. When told by her parents that she will be going over to grandma and Auntie Fawn’s house tomorrow, the wheels in her little brain start spinning as she tries to figure out what tomorrow is. “One more sleep?” she asks, as the equation that tomorrow=the next day clicks into place. She smiles about this. One sleep is understandable, perhaps even two or three more sleeps until the weekend makes sense now, and is more easily awaited.

But, when her parents say they’re going on a vacation this summer, this little girl can’t quite figure out how to process this information. It’s too many sleeps for her to count on her fingers, too many more sleeps than her forming brain can process at this point. So some days, she is as excited about this trip as if it’s tomorrow, other days she completely forgets about it, and yet on others she is horribly frustrated with the waiting. Summer can feel to her four year old self like a lifetime away.

Even though I’m almost forty and can calculate exactly how many more sleeps I have until the next thing on my calendar, I can understand her perspective. It’s even worse when the answer to my questions of when things will happen is “someday, probably a long time from now” or “I don’t know” or perhaps “quite possibly never.”

  • When will I get married? Quite possibly never.
  • When will I finally be content? Someday, probably a long time from now.
  • When will I overcome this fear? I don’t know.
  • When will I stop struggling with this? I don’t know.
  • When will I be financially stable? Quite possibly never.
  • When will I stop feeling this way? Someday, probably a long time from now.
  • When will I stop yearning for things I can’t have? Someday, probably a long time from now.
  • When will I understand why? Someday, probably a long time from now, or perhaps, quite possibly, never.

And, like a toddler, my mind fights these concepts of time. It wants something it can measure, can grasp, can rely upon. It wants to know exactly how many more sleeps until these things happen.

As a lifelong fan of science fiction, the idea of time travel always appealed to me. If only I could wrinkle time by tessering, hop into the flying DeLorean or TARDIS, set the controls for the future, and jump ahead. If only someone could come back and tell me when. But, as all great sci-fi fans know, this often doesn’t end well. No, it is better to now know your own future, but to live it out by stepping one foot in front of the other, like everyone else.

2 Corinthians 5:7 reminds us that, as Christians, “we walk by faith, not by sight.” Hebrews 11:1 goes on to describe faith as “the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen.” My sister and her husband can see what they have planned for the summer; to them it is not so far away, they are booking flights and making arrangements. And my niece is learning to trust them – so even though she cannot see that far ahead, she has faith in them that this will happen and be amazing.

How much more so can my God, my Father, see everything he has planned for me? I don’t know what is going on behind the scenes, what he’s orchestrating for me, what arrangements are being made. But, like my niece can trust in her parents because she knows they love her as they always say they do, and they’ve reliably proven this to her throughout her four years of life thus far, I can trust my God because I know he loves me as he says he does in his Scripture, and I can look back on a lifetime of evidence to this fact.

So I’m trying to make my peace with time. Trying to let it unravel without knowing what lies ahead. Trying to both wisely plan for the future while also letting it slip through my fingers with a loose grip. Trying to be okay with questions that may never be answered, at least not in this lifetime.

There are still moments when, like my niece, I can feel my face scrunching up in disdain when no one can tell me exactly how many sleeps it will take before something I want to happen occurs. There are still moments when I wish I could throw a tantrum, beat my fists against the ground, kick and flail a bit when I realize the answer isn’t the one I wanted. But like my sister and her husband, who love their little girl even when she’s imperfect, I know God is there with me in the midst of my disappointment and fear, just waiting for me to turn to him with faith for my future. And today, that is enough.