Listen to the Word that God has spoken …
I am one of the many who’ve witnessed the ferocity of God’s anger.
He allowed that I be tossed into the deepest of darkness, where my flesh and skin wasted away, where my brittle bones cracked under the weight of affliction. Bitterness besieged; tribulation enveloped, and I existed in obscurity like the dead of long ago. Walled in, chained up, I pleaded for help, but my cries fell silent without response.
Hewn stones block my way; my paths are crooked; hungry beasts lurk in the gloom, ready to ambush with muscular jaws that’ll tear me to pieces. I feel bitter, desolate; my bow is bent; pointed arrows of scorn and ridicule burrow deep into already-tender flesh.
My teeth grind on gravel; I cower in ashes; my soul knows no peace; joy and happiness are things of the past. The thought of my affliction and my homelessness is wormwood and gall!
My soul continually thinks of it and is bowed down within me. But this I call to mind, and therefore I have hope:
The steadfast love of the LORD never ceases; his mercies never come to an end; by grace, they arrive fresh with the dawn of each new day. “The LORD is my portion,” says my soul, “therefore I will hope in him.” The LORD is good, and kind, and faithful, to the soul who seeks him, to those who wait for him in the patience of faith.
Be of good spirit, in a place of soothing rest, as you wait for the full salvation of the Lord. (paraphrase of Lamentations 3:1-26)
Our community is awash in grief. Its cold, suffocating weight presses heavy like a sopping-wet wool blanket.
Seemingly around every corner huddle sobbing friends, heartbroken neighbors, and orphaned children. Slicing through the fog of winter’s grim, moans of unrelenting pain – “groans too deep for words” – echo from up the street and down the block.
In recent weeks, in unrelated events, untimely death has claimed several beloved dads, even as another household endures the searing, red-hot pain of a toddler’s accidental demise. And plenty of other families – slogging through the first Thanksgiving without Grandpa Henry or the first Christmas without Aunt Muriel – vividly remember the heartache of seeing their empty seats around holiday tables.
Now comes word that a young woman’s death is being investigated as a homicide, and the crime scene is a hefty stone’s throw from our church – and my home, where Julie and I live and nightly lay our heads. “There is no threat to the public,” the police chief assures. A person of interest is in custody. Meanwhile, the rest of us struggle to comprehend the vitriol, or the addiction, or the deep wound – or whatever it is – that compels someone to commit such a heinous, cold-blooded act.
Tragedies like ours happen every day everywhere.
Because for all its beauty and wonder, our world remains as broken and fearful as the people who live in it. And a bystander’s comment to a TV reporter cracks the thin shell of our false comfort: “I never thought something like that could ever happen here.”
Welcome to the club, I suppose. Death knows no mercy; violence knows no bounds. So why shouldn’t it happen here? “It is what it is” – until it isn’t. Using the day’s clichéd vernacular, now is a time for “thoughts and prayers.” So here are mine.
First thought: To those who reached out to Jami Kasemeier with gestures of help, thank you for caring so deeply for another. Now please take good care of yourselves in the weeks and months ahead. What happened is not your fault. You did what you could. Sometimes, for some people, for whatever reasons, grabbing hold of a lifeline simply isn’t part of the skillset.
And second: Please play a faithful role in turning down the volume on the breathless gossip. Encourage folks in your orbit to think twice before sharing their assumptions, and presumptions, and judgments on social media. Justice will roll down like water, so let us save space for that process to unfurl. May the Spirit stop all of us, from actions that only serve to tear further, already gaping and jagged wounds.
For the moment, those are my thoughts. And now to prayer:
When Jesus learns that his cousin and friend, John the Baptist, has been beheaded, Jesus leaves behind his followers and finds a desolate place to be alone – presumably to pray. So also you and I. We ask God –
To release any and all held captive by fear.
To soothe and comfort those who mourn with grace and peace that surpasses all understanding.
To one day bring offender and offended to places of seeking and granting forgiveness.
We pray for healing within the community, for the hearts of those who commit such violence to be rid of such evil, and for similar cleansing of whatever darkness overshadows our own hearts. We pray for the Holy Spirit to reveal ways, that we might better reflect the love of God and the light of Christ. To Father, Son, and Spirit rise our thanks, for heavenly love and light that really can and do make tangible differences – bit by bit, one by one, glimmer by glimmer, each in his or her own time.
A quote from actor Sidney Poitier renews my hope: “If I’m remembered for having done a few good things, and if my presence here has sparked some good energies, that’s plenty.”
We Christians already know something about senseless death.
Our Lord and Savior himself was the victim of deadly violence and vicious brutality. So, whenever we’re trying to work through our own pain, anxious spirits always find comfort in the assurance that God understands.
God “gets us.” Because God in Christ Jesus became one of us. Because God in Christ Jesus felt the very real human pain and humiliation of his crucifixion.
But we Christians already know how the story ends. Jesus rises from the dead, of course, his resurrected self still moving among us by the Holy Spirit, with whom we join as co-creators, in redeeming, re-making, and reshaping this world. To save us from evil. To grant the peace for which we hunger. To serve up a foretaste of final victory over evil.
Thus we also pray for renewal of our partnership with Jesus, a partnership of healing, of reconciliation, of peacemaking – a partnership of announcing that the Kingdom of God draws neigh.
Demand change!
Change is why Jesus pitched his tent among us: That through close relationship we might be changed. That old patterns die off. That new ones rise up. That peace will prevail.
Remember that your prayers are so powerful that they can and should lead to action – on your part, on the parts of others. Advocate for peace, for understanding and compassion. Advocate for empathy and inclusion. God is love, and our faithful witness in word and deed shows how love really can conquer all – that love really can erase all evil.
“Why does God allow such tragedies happen?” I have no clue. Maybe I’ll find out someday. What I do know is this: God is here to comfort the afflicted, and God is here to change this world.
So let’s get to work. The paths we are on are not sustainable.
Register to vote. Speak out to our elected leaders. Sign that petition. Write that letter. God’s love is always at work in and through you and me – if we let it. So, in all that you say and do, please join me in standing strong on the side of God’s love, God’s grace, God’s mercy, God’s peace.
Ancient words, ever true, become our prayer: Lord, make me an instrument of your peace. Amen, and amen!
Pastor Grant M. VanderVelden shared this message during worship on Sunday, January 28, 2024, at First Presbyterian Church in Waukon, Iowa, USA. Reflection by Rick Hamlin and Ashley Lateef informs the message.