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Posted: April 2nd, 2008 at 1:23am By: Rev. Rebecca Schlatter
Easter proclaims a Love which survives the worst death can deal it. Christians preach that because of Jesus' death and resurrection, Love survives in our lives, too. It's one side of this remarkable paradox of human life: We are simultaneously fragile and incredibly resilient. We can be hurt in so many ways, but what happens after the hurt can be powerful evidence of Love. We have enormous potential for healing. Then, on our bodies, minds and hearts, we get to keep the scars as evidence.
Either because I am lucky or because I am very dense and desperately need daily reminders of this healing, my scars are on my face where I can see them every day. They come from a car accident when I was 11. As we were on the way home from a church event, a pick-up truck ran a red light and smashed into the side of our tiny Chevette. As we spun around the intersection, my friend and I in the backseat crashed our heads together. She had seen the truck coming and ducked, so the hard top of her head crushed the right side of my face and broke several bones. No one else was seriously injured.
Through the recovery time and the surgery to repair my face, people did what they so often do in trying times: They surrounded my family with love, cards, and food. As an 11-year-old, I had never seen such a thing before, and it was a revelation. My family, living far from relatives, had always seemed self-sufficient. In my mind, we were the ones who helped when needed, not the ones who received help. I'd had no idea that a pastor would actually come to visit me in the hospital. He read me Psalm 121, and I felt important and loved.
I was fortunate in how well the surgery worked and healing progressed. I am also fortunate to have the evidence right where I can see it, because those times of healing are easy to forget as time goes on. When we tell ourselves the story of our life, it is essential that we include evidence that some areas have healed, that we have survived to continue on our journey another day.
Paul writes in Romans, "Wealso boast in our sufferings, knowing that suffering produces endurance, and endurance produces character, and character produces hope, and hope does not disappoint us, because God's love has been poured into our hearts through the Holy Spirit that has been given to us" (Romans 5:3-5).
It can be tempting to "boast in our sufferings" as evidence that we have been damaged beyond repair, and that nothing much should be expected of us. But it's a choice to see it that way; we could tell instead a story of healing, survival and connection. Of course, no one can dictate that interpretation for someone else. Suffering is not automatically redemptive.
But if my middle-school confirmation students are any indication, there is an intuitive connection between scars and evidence of God's healing presence. Last Wednesday, our confirmation class of middle-schoolers studied the story of the Road to Emmaus in Luke 24. The story takes place on the evening of Jesus' resurrection, when he appears to two disciples on a journey. They don't recognize him at first, but they walk and talk with this apparent stranger. Finally, "their eyes are opened" when Jesus breaks bread with them, and they recognize him.
I asked the kids to draw a "life map" of memorable times, and mark out any places where they had met Jesus along the road. Perhaps they had recognized him at the time, perhaps not. Later, discussing the maps and their encounters with Jesus, many of them told stories of scars on their bodies and hearts — an accident, the death of a loved one, an illness, a difficult move.
We might argue that this resilience is simply the way bodies and hearts are made. Creatures have an instinct for survival, and many people do so against all odds. Who says God heals us, rather than our bodies and minds healing themselves? According to Paul, the bottom line is "God's love poured into our hearts through the Holy Spirit." He names the relationship and takes personally the hope that comes from suffering — it is from God, for the people God loves. In our day, others might name that process "human nature."
Could that be the difference between walking with a stranger and recognizing Jesus along the way?
— — —
Rev. Rebecca Schlatter is an ordained minister in the Lutheran Church (ELCA) in Reno, Nevada. You can contact her at {email newhousesfromoldbricks@hotmail.com}newhousesfromoldbricks@hotmail.com{/email}. © Copyright 2008 by Rebecca Schlatter.
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Easter proclaims a Love which survives the worst death can deal it. Christians preach that because of Jesus' death and resurrection, Love survives in our lives, too. It's one side of this remarkable paradox of human life: We are simultaneously fragile and incredibly resilient. We can be hurt in so many ways, but what happens after the hurt can be powerful evidence of Love. We have enormous potential for healing. Then, on our bodies, minds and hearts, we get to keep the scars as evidence.
Either because I am lucky or because I am very dense and desperately need daily reminders of this healing, my scars are on my face where I can see them every day. They come from a car accident when I was 11. As we were on the way home from a church event, a pick-up truck ran a red light and smashed into the side of our tiny Chevette. As we spun around the intersection, my friend and I in the backseat crashed our heads together. She had seen the truck coming and ducked, so the hard top of her head crushed the right side of my face and broke several bones. No one else was seriously injured.
Through the recovery time and the surgery to repair my face, people did what they so often do in trying times: They surrounded my family with love, cards, and food. As an 11-year-old, I had never seen such a thing before, and it was a revelation. My family, living far from relatives, had always seemed self-sufficient. In my mind, we were the ones who helped when needed, not the ones who received help. I'd had no idea that a pastor would actually come to visit me in the hospital. He read me Psalm 121, and I felt important and loved.
I was fortunate in how well the surgery worked and healing progressed. I am also fortunate to have the evidence right where I can see it, because those times of healing are easy to forget as time goes on. When we tell ourselves the story of our life, it is essential that we include evidence that some areas have healed, that we have survived to continue on our journey another day.
Paul writes in Romans, "Wealso boast in our sufferings, knowing that suffering produces endurance, and endurance produces character, and character produces hope, and hope does not disappoint us, because God's love has been poured into our hearts through the Holy Spirit that has been given to us" (Romans 5:3-5).
It can be tempting to "boast in our sufferings" as evidence that we have been damaged beyond repair, and that nothing much should be expected of us. But it's a choice to see it that way; we could tell instead a story of healing, survival and connection. Of course, no one can dictate that interpretation for someone else. Suffering is not automatically redemptive.
But if my middle-school confirmation students are any indication, there is an intuitive connection between scars and evidence of God's healing presence. Last Wednesday, our confirmation class of middle-schoolers studied the story of the Road to Emmaus in Luke 24. The story takes place on the evening of Jesus' resurrection, when he appears to two disciples on a journey. They don't recognize him at first, but they walk and talk with this apparent stranger. Finally, "their eyes are opened" when Jesus breaks bread with them, and they recognize him.
I asked the kids to draw a "life map" of memorable times, and mark out any places where they had met Jesus along the road. Perhaps they had recognized him at the time, perhaps not. Later, discussing the maps and their encounters with Jesus, many of them told stories of scars on their bodies and hearts — an accident, the death of a loved one, an illness, a difficult move.
We might argue that this resilience is simply the way bodies and hearts are made. Creatures have an instinct for survival, and many people do so against all odds. Who says God heals us, rather than our bodies and minds healing themselves? According to Paul, the bottom line is "God's love poured into our hearts through the Holy Spirit." He names the relationship and takes personally the hope that comes from suffering — it is from God, for the people God loves. In our day, others might name that process "human nature."
Could that be the difference between walking with a stranger and recognizing Jesus along the way?
— — —
Rev. Rebecca Schlatter is an ordained minister in the Lutheran Church (ELCA) in Reno, Nevada. You can contact her at {email newhousesfromoldbricks@hotmail.com}newhousesfromoldbricks@hotmail.com{/email}. © Copyright 2008 by Rebecca Schlatter.
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