Wounded Faith

 This morning I was checking out my Facebook feed and saw the above photo that intrigued me greatly.  It was on the status of a clergy friend who often posts funny photos of himself photoshopped into some absurd situation or onto someone else’s body. So I was intrigued by the seriousness of the image – which I thought was a bit uncharacteristic.

When I really looked at it, I was reminded of the many times my Grandmother or Mom would tell me that I could survive anything through faith and that Jesus was bigger than any of my problems or issues. But there were definitely times in my life when my issues, problems, concerns, or drama seemed much bigger than my faith, bigger than Jesus, and definitely bigger than my understanding of God.

But I distinctly remember being told the opposite as I was growing up. “God doesn't give us more than we can handle,” I was told. Well, if that’s true, then evidently God has a higher opinion of what I can handle than I do.

Now I have to be honest about my life. I am a white, middle-class, highly educated, well employed, fairly healthy American woman. I am a Protestant in a vibrant community of faith and work in a vocation that I love and enjoy immensely. I have good health care and options for where I go to receive treatment when I am sick. I have a home that is warm and comfortable. My son is in a great school and had the ability to apply to multiple magnet schools for high school next year. I have an amazing family – my family of origin and my family of choice— and I know that I am richly blessed.

So how bad could my problems be? Right?

We all have secret pain. We all have brokenness. We all have wounds that do not fully heal despite all the salve we put on them. The truth is that no matter our circumstances in life – there is still heartache, pain and wounds.

Sometimes the pain comes from wounds that we are too frightened to talk about to others. Sometimes it comes from things we had no control over. Sometimes it comes from bad decisions we made in our past. Sometimes it comes from the evil some people do to others. Sometimes it comes from how society treats people that are deemed “others.” And sometimes it is what we do to ourselves.

No matter how we get these wounds - they are real. The pain is real. The feelings that the wounds and pain are bigger than Jesus – bigger than God—are real.  And no easy answers and pithy slogans on photos makes that pain go away. I know that.

But I believe that God helps to heal our wounds if we open our lives to that. I believe that our faith can and does help us survive difficult situations in our lives. I do believe that God is big enough to take our pain, to take our anger, to take our frustrations, and to take our brokenness and help us begin to heal.

For me that healing comes from my faith, from my church community, from my understanding of God’s desire for the best for me, and from the love with which I am surrounded every day.  For me healing comes in the Eucharistic meal I participate in every week with my seminary community and monthly with my community of faith. For me healing comes from a faith life that includes prayer, reading the scriptures, spending time in spiritual practices, and honoring my personal faith needs.

But even those powerful parts of my life do not automatically heal all of my wounds. Some wounds are even deeper than I want to admit. I am trying to be open to healing and wholeness. But I still have the wounds. They have shrunken over the years but I still have the scars. There has been healing and renewal, but that does not make me immune from new pain. There have been moments of complete clarity about my life and other times when everything was foggy. And I know that in all of those situations, God was with me. God was bigger than my pain, but I had to open myself to the possibility of healing. I had to stop focusing on the wounds so that I could feel the power of the healing.

The healing was sometimes as painful as the wounding—because it often involved forgiving the person(s) who injured me. And the healing was not always complete because I often held onto the pain since it was so personal to me.  And it had been such a part of my journey.

Healing comes if we open ourselves to the possibilities. It can be slow and difficult.

Wounds are not bigger than we are. Pain is not bigger than we are. Even though they feel like that sometimes – they are not bigger than God.

I have to remember that – I think that we all do. 

Not the Happiest Time of Year for Everyone …

 Growing up, I was sick a lot. And when I say a lot ... I really mean it. Epilepsy, allergies, lots of infections, double viral pneumonia, etc. I spent a lot of time with doctors and with my mom and dad waiting for doctors. It was just part of my life growing up. I got used to it.

Some of the time we were certain of what was going to go on when we walked into the office ... like the regular neurological visits when they would do an EEG to test for seizure activity (I was lucky to have outgrown my epilepsy). Some of the time I was hoping for a quick in and out ... but it was a long wait and I got a shot when I was sick. Some of the time it was for tests ... and they would stick my back and arms for allergies and I would react to just about all of them.

One of the sickest times of the year was always around Christmas. I would be ill from late in the month of November to early January (the same time we had a tree in our home). We began to suspect that it was my allergies. When they tested me for about 500 items, I was allergic to over 400 of them. And I was allergic to just about every type of evergreen there is. So we got rid of our live tree and evergreens and have had artificial trees ever since.

That solved the issue for the most part but it does not solve it completely. I still have to be in places with live trees and greens and they are not easy places for me to be. I visit homes that have pets and evergreens and come home sick. It is kind of hard to avoid at times – especially around Christmas.

I take meds and precautions - sometimes even taking too much just to survive. But still it is a miserable time of the year allergy wise.

Today I was at my church - a church I dearly love - and found that their method of hanging the greens this year meant no safe space for those of us with allergies. It was beautiful and miserable all at the same time.

As I sat there feeling sorry for myself and others who were suffering, I was reminded of all of the people for whom the holidays are especially difficult. Some due to illness, some due to the loss of a loved one, and some due to a dislike of the consumerism and greed that seems to have infected the season. There are many reasons why this time of year is hard for folks. Some of those reasons are very personal and private.

But there reasons are very real. We hear songs about this being the happiest time of the year, but for many it is a time of torment and suffering - depression and anguish. For some it is painful, dreadfully lonely, and a reminder of just how blue they feel. For some it is a constant drumming of joyful songs all around them in the midst of feeling very little joy themselves.

I love Christmas - especially with artificial trees and greens - and live trees from a distance.  When I was a pastor, my churches all switched to artificial greens and trees while I was there which was very kind and caring of them. My family loves their artificial tree now and we never miss the "real thing." Adaptations helped me a lot.

So I pray for folks for whom this time of year is tough. You don't have to fake happy for us. You don't have to say Merry Christmas or Happy Holidays to us. Many of us will try to be sensitive to your needs and not push our love of Christmas off on you - though unfortunately not everyone will be aware of your feelings.

You don't have to love the lights and carols. You don't have to explain that going to the Mall this time of year is just too much for you. You have the right to feel and experience the holidays as you need to.

Just know that we see you. We know you are there and we acknowledge that this time of the year is tough for you. We feel it too at times. Know that you are loved.

Whether your Christmas is decidedly red and green or some shade of the blues - you are special and God's beloveds.

Feel that, if you can, and know you're not alone.