redemption

Redemption

Written by Christina Feng, LMHC (Senior Clinician)

It’s my mid-afternoon break and the sun is streaming through the window, casting a warm golden hue on the half-decorated walls of my home office. I hear cars and trucks passing by, an occasional bird’s chirp, and the faint chatter of people enjoying a walk together. I see no more traces of snow; just the last bit of damp pavement that should dry up in another day’s time. Eastertide was just upon us, and it seems that the earth was aware of this fact and began its own preparations in advance of it. I’ve experienced many a New England March, and this last one was unusually mild, with several days in the 60s, even 70s. As I reflect on March, other things come to mind--most notably, the increased rate and availability of vaccinations that is quickly becoming a favorite subject among clients. I can’t think of many--if any--sessions that don’t touch upon it, even if just briefly. A client this morning beamed as she shared that she recently received a first dose. She’s not the first to celebrate this precious milestone with me, but I never tire of these updates. I hear excitement and joy in their voices. Even those who have yet to receive a first dose have spoken with more confidence, and I notice that their voices carry hope

For the first time in more than a year, hope is becoming palpable again. It is at once familiar and foreign, tempered by a muted sense of anticipation. We have learned to live in quarantine and isolation. We have practiced caution and distance-keeping. We have known fear and uncertainty as a part of our everyday existence. We have lost, we have grieved, we have mourned, we have worried, we have striven, we have resigned, we have fought, we have grown weary. Many have learned to expect little and suffer much. Suffer much. Suffering is a hard subject as it is uncomfortable to confront, and we are prone to run from it, recover from it as quickly as we can, or risk breaking under the weight of it. In my experience, whether professional or personal, there is no level of skill, wisdom, or empathy that truly comforts the one who suffers. But this is where the beautiful truth of redemption steps in and begins to undo the work of suffering and loss.

Redemption is the recovery, the regaining of something that has been lost. We see traces of this each spring when the loss of daylight returns, the loss of warmth returns, the loss of greenery returns. It implies loss. Yet history and life itself tells us that, the greater the loss, the greater the redemption. And nowhere is this truth seen more clearly than in the loss and redemption of life at Calvary. There has been, is, and will never be a greater suffering than Christ enduring the full weight of humanity’s judgment unto death, but there has been, is, and will never be a greater redemption than the life that is offered to all of humanity in the resurrection of Christ that first Easter morn. For all who believe and call upon his name. Let us not believe for one second that every bit of death and dying that we experience in this world is the end of the story. Let us look to the empty cross and remember what sweet redemption is ours on a later day. And let us fuel the hope that is timidly returning to us by seeking out glimpses of redemption in the everyday. Lately is has been especially noticeable in the return of traffic on the roads, kids at the playground, jobs to families, and small gatherings in person. But let us not be satisfied so quickly; not merely with the prospect of vaccinations and a new normal. Instead, let us train our eyes to await and behold the final redemption when everything will be restored and made new again.

Hope When Circumstances are Bleak

Written by Day Marshall, LMHC (Senior Clinician)

Very often in counseling sessions, I hear from clients a form of the sentiment, “I know that God is all powerful, loving and good, but I doubt He is like that with me.”  This is related to experiences that point to feeling forgotten by God, or overlooked by Him, or worse, being punished by Him for not being ‘X’ enough.  Recently in my personal study of the Word, I was looking deeply at the book of Ruth, and the plight of Naomi struck me as echoing what my clients often express.

Faced with the difficult decision to move from Bethlehem with her husband and two sons due to famine, Naomi’s family settled in Moab. During that time, all of her men died, and she only had her two daughters-in-law left. Naomi heard that after 10 years abroad, “the Lord had paid attention to His people’s need and provided food,” so she headed home. It is here we see Naomi’s expressed belief about God’s view of her: “my daughters, my life is much too bitter for you to share, because the Lord’s hand has turned against me.” Again, when Naomi arrived at Bethlehem, she expressed, “Call me Mara, for the Almighty has made me very bitter. I went away full, but the Lord has brought me back empty...the Lord has pronounced judgment on me, and the Almighty has afflicted me.”

Despite Naomi’s painful circumstances, the Lord had significant plans for her, which included implications she could not possibly have imagined in her state of grief. We know the happy conclusion to Naomi’s story is not only one of immediate redemption through a grandson who renewed her life and sustained her in her old age, along with a daughter-in-law who loved her and was better “than seven sons,” but also includes being a part of the story of the Redeemer himself. In the beauty of God’s eternal plan, Naomi could not have known during her earthly life the significance of all she went through, but we bear witness to it with the bigger picture in view.

This is a sentiment I try to encourage clients to consider as they are feeling unloved, abandoned, forgotten, or in some way punished by a capricious God. I encourage holding onto the idea that He is never inclined toward us that way, even when it feels like it in the moment. It can feel difficult to trust that God’s love is not fleeting when we have experienced disappointment and pain that seems unrelenting. This is particularly true in the seasons of waiting; not knowing how long the grieving will last, or for what reason something is happening. And especially when, like Naomi, there is one loss piled on top of many others without any obvious way out.

When I meet with a client in this circumstance, I avoid placating sentiments, such as ‘everything happens for a reason,’ because it is not reasonable to ask someone who is suffering to embrace that their suffering is for a greater good. If they come to that conclusion independently, great. However, it can be harmful to impose on a person who feels neglected or unseen by God the idea that He is allowing them to suffer for some larger purpose. Rather, I attempt to enter into their grief with them, hearing their hearts and empathizing with how difficult it is to be a place of not knowing. Offering the sentiment of the father, desperate for the deliverance of his son’s lifelong affliction, whose heart cry was, “I believe! Help my unbelief” (Mark 9:24) is usually pretty close to the heart position of one longing to know the Father’s love for them when they feel alone.

 

Practices:

1)      Sit with and grieve with those who grieve and who wait for the Lord’s deliverance.

2)      Pray with and for them

3)      Do for them – if they feel alone, invest in friendship with them. If they want a life partner, be the friend who encourages them to experience fullness of life as they prepare themselves to meet that person in the future

4)      When there is a diagnosis or a loss that is excruciating, offer presence more than words, and offer service instead of expectations.