We are between times. In the past is the death and resurrection of Jesus. In the future is his return. In these in-between times, we live in faith based on the past and live in hope looking to the future.
But while we wait, we must go through beauty and ashes.
There are times when it is wonderful to be alive. We see a laughing child, meet an intriguing person, find a fulfilling career. And then there are the other times, when life is dreary and wasteful, with disappointment and pain. We rage at the dying of the light; we do not go gentle but fight and push and resist. But in the end, there is still that night.
We do not know how it all works out. When it is wonderful, we are happy and carefree. When it is dark, we think it will always be so. And there are no words that will make that time better. Words, I mean. Only words. When we are in those times, we want to know.
I don’t know how to reconcile those two swings of life. When we are in love or find someone significant or are simply fulfilled, then there is meaning. We are connected. It makes sense, everything that happens. Work hard, and then there is the payoff. Hold back now because later there is a payoff. It all makes sense because we know there is a purposeful God who watches over us and smooths things out. He lives in fair heaven and blesses us; we feel as if there is nothing that can go wrong. Life is roses, comfort, beauty. We are happy and even joyful, because we are safe and blessed, doing what God asks and being rewarded for it.
Then there are the times when it is all wrong. All the work and effort have paid off in ashes. We lose our youth and health and assets; we experience loss and loneliness; we wait in silence, not speaking and not knowing if we can speak. Maybe life is, after all, random and valueless; maybe the point of the universe is undiscoverable because it is pointless. The stars are hard, bright, and distant points of light that glitter in the dark sky.
I do not know if you can admit you’ve lived through that time, where beauty has changed to ashes. Often there is no safe place to have that discussion because life demands that you act as if life holds only beauty. There are chores and tasks to take care of. There are family members to support. Life goes on like a train, and there is never a cord to pull to say “Stop!” Whether you speak out or not—life goes on.
But—there has to be a time when you can say “Stop.” When you can say “I am confused and hurt and alone. Nothing makes sense. What do I do now?” You need that time in your life—and you need that place, too. Where the ashes can be poured out. Where there can be someone to say “It gets better.”
This is what Monty is talking about on Sunday. Not words and rules and techniques. Not silence and resignation. But that life, right now, with Jesus is a life worth chewing on. That there is someone at the other end when we ask again for beauty.