soul sifting thoughts on current events and The Stations of the Cross

Last week I took part in brainstorming and planning The Stations of the Cross worship time for our hospital station/neighborhood. Our friend and teammate Dr. Sarah did most of the creative and logistical legwork with some input and help from Steve and me. Sarah found some old floor tiles and artfully painted images depicting each station. She researched and adapted 12 stations and put together prayers and readings while Steve and I helped to brainstorm and assemble some interactive experiences to go along with most of the stations.

Since we are living in this time of social distancing and nationwide curfews, we set up The Stations on Saturday morning instead of Friday evening. We woke up that morning to a lengthy and solid soaking rain. It ended about the time we started setting up in the open air gymnasium. It was muggy and extremely buggy as we worked to move tables and elements in place. It didn't take long to get it set up but I felt claustrophobic with the cloying wet heat and mosquitoes mercilessly attacking all my exposed flesh. I even had bites on the back of my ear. 

After we set everything in place Sarah, Steve and I went through The Stations ourselves. It took about 45 minutes to go through them all. It was deeply meaningful and sobering. In the midst of walking through each part of Jesus's journey to the cross and considering His profound sacrifice, I kept being distracted by my own physical discomfort of sweat and bug bites and feeling so gross and in great need of a shower. I mean, my own discomfort was nothing compared to the suffering Jesus endured on our behalf. His physical, mental, spiritual anguish and sacrifice is staggering to consider. Yet there I was feeling super annoyed and distracted by my own discomfort. It occurred to me that I have done The Stations of the Cross in other settings, each time it has been in a climate-controlled, bug-free zone. I've been able to totally engross myself in the readings and interactive experiences. This time I continually had to refocus my attention back to Christ. I felt so disappointed in myself at my lack of ability to immerse myself in this precious time to engage with and remember His ultimate suffering and sacrifice that reconciles us all to Him.

After finishing the experience and going home to shower and count my myriad of itchy bug bite welts, Steve and I had a mini meltdown of a "discussion" about tensions between us during the last week and while we were setting up The Stations together. We both felt misunderstood and that the other was being hyper-sensitive about practically nothing. Annoyance dissolved into hurt and anger. It was not a shining moment of marital harmony. As we continued to talk, we both admitted that the tipping point of the conflict was not the things we were discussing, those things were, in fact, nothing.

The real issue rose up like a painful boil festering just beneath the surface of the skin. The issue was the profound vulnerability and lack of control we had both been silently dealing with separately. We, of course, believe and speak the truth that God is in control and we never really are anyway. That this time of sickness and death and quarantines and curfews and economic strife on a global scale is a time to shine brightly for Christ. There are articles written and inspirational stories and funny memes that we share on social media. And, yes, God is in control and all of this hasn't taken Him by surprise. He is the Almighty One and we are most definitely not. But we've lost that fragile sense of control. We are grieving both small and large losses. Trips and graduations and weddings and sporting events are canceled and even funerals are shockingly very different. In developing countries there is worry over the poorest people not having the means to quarantine as they don't have refrigeration or piped-in water or enough money to stock up food and supplies for days and weeks. And how long will this go on? When will we go back to normal? Is normal even possible? What does the future hold?

As a part of a remote mission hospital in the rainforest of Gabon, Central Africa, our team has discussed what might happen here when COVID 19 comes. We don't have an ICU or useful ventilators or even a large supply of PPEs. There will be no medical evacuations as the borders are closed and the place we would evacuate to is also struggling with their own medical supplies and staff. Our team leader, Dr. Jeff Lane, along with the other physicians on our team have put together a palliative care plan so that it can be put in place if needed. We have adapted new protocols and are planning as best as we can for that which we cannot accurately predict. We hope that the social distancing and quarantines will keep us from getting an overwhelming number of cases here. Perhaps it won't be as bad here as it has been in Asia, Europe and the US? We cling to this hope and hold tightly to Him, Our Great God, who is able. 

While going through The Stations I was particularly struck by the third station where Jesus is being condemned by the Sanhedrin. At this station the leader read these words after a reading of Matt 26:57-68 which tells the story of Jesus's trial at the Sanhedrin:

"In today's world, we are quick to complain. When we feel as though too much has been heaped on us or we're not being appreciated, we don't hesitate to let God and everybody know about it. We complain when things pile up, when we cannot do what we want, and we get upset when our intentions and motives are misunderstood by other people. We don't like it when something happens to us against our will - we want to call the shots in our lives all day, everyday. The modern world has lost the value of suffering. We're taught now that we shouldn't accept discomfort or pain but rise up against it. We shouldn't remain silent about things, we should shout at everyone if necessary. What we fail to realize is that through the daily troubles and tribulations we meet, Christ unites us to His Passion. Who had ever been so mistreated, so misunderstood? As Christ stood before the Sanhedrin, He heard false accusations brought against Him. He listened to the lies and felt the hatred of the crowd. Then, for truthfully answering a question from the high priest, Jesus was condemned to death by the council. And through all of that, Our Lord was silent. He said nothing to those who accused Him of false teaching nor did He lash out at those who struck Him and spit in His face."

This reading really pierced through me just like Hebrews 4:12 says about the word of God being living and active, "sharper than any two-edged sword, piercing to the division of soul and spirit, of joints and of marrow, and discerning the thoughts and intentions of the heart." What I say I believe and what I actually believe can be hidden even from myself. Times like these are revealing. I'm a verbal processor. It's kinda annoying that I can't fully figure out how I feel about things until I've said it out loud. It's like I have to taste the words to see if they are the right flavor. It's a messy process. I envy Steve and others that are internal processors. It seems like they can keep their messy process under wraps. Of course, one way or another we all struggle through the sludge to sift out the gold. The sentence in the reading that really stood out to me was about meeting God through the tribulations and the way it expresses how that is the very thing uniting us to Christ and His Passion. We can't truly experience His Passion without also experiencing troubles and tribulations. What I'd really like is to experience all that He has to offer but in the comfort of my own climate-controlled, bug-free environment, also at my pace please! I'd like to skip the bad parts and reap the benefits of all the good parts like being united with Him. 

Just the other day I was texting with my soul sister Leanne Barnard on this subject, because "verbal processor" here, and, I said that it takes suffering and crisis to sift through my soul like a powerful truth serum. When I go through life in comfort and my climate is controlled and I'm not threatened by a scary virus I can go through The Stations of the Cross with pious adoration and perhaps fool myself into believing I can handle pain and loss and suffering... "All for Jesus... I surrender... I surrender All!" (lyrics of an old song) But now while everything has been turned upside down and fear of sickness and death and global financial ruin is potentially lurking around the corner what do I really believe? How do we process this time of grief and fear and loss of liberties that we, just weeks ago, took for granted? Do we really believe what we say we believe? Is Jesus all we need? Are we able to give light and love to a broken world all around us?

The closing prayer at the third station was this:

"Jesus, I avoid adversity. I fear humiliation and run from suffering. But you chose to take up the cross, a symbol of humiliation and suffering, and did so with steadfast acceptance. Teach me, I pray, to carry my burdens with the same grace, remembering that you will never leave or forsake me. Lord, grant me your sense of righteousness that I may never cease to work to bring out the justice of the kingdom that you promised. Grant that I may love You always; and then do with me as You will."

The beautiful part is that God already knows us in our weak and fearful states. He already knows we aren't so good at suffering and troubles. He knows that heat and humidity and hunger and sickness and anxious wonderings loom large within us. He knows it all and loves us still. He makes away for us to draw near to Him. Jesus paid the ultimate price that we never could. Let's face it, I get all bent out of shape with a little heat and discomfort, never mind true suffering. He is with us. I have to remind myself not to rush through the suffering to land on the finishing work. It's in the suffering that we meet Him. He shapes us and instills in us His Passion for a lost world. May we not vacate during this time in seeking out shallow, immediate comfort, i.e. Netflix or getting caught up in the next free online course, but may we instead draw near to Christ in this time of suffering. Let's not rush through the discomfort and pain. Let's meet Him here in this time. Let Him bring His presence to our troubled souls.

I was reminded of Psalm 131(ESV) by Pastor Jeff who ministers to our team via internet regularly:

"O Lord, my heart is not lifted up;

my eyes are not raised too high;

I do not occupy myself with things

too great and too marvelous for me.

But I have calmed and quieted my soul, 

like a weaned child with its mother;

like a weaned child is my soul within me.

O Israel, hope in the Lord

from this time forth and forevermore." 

I will close with a song from Waterdeep that, in my opinion captures the emotion of this psalm beautifully: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3zZcNfzxHZ0