I have always lived by the motto, “You cannot know what is around the next corner… but you know Who will be there to meet you.”
Let’s face it — life has always been unpredictable, and it always will be. The only real constant is change. And yet, as Christians, we hold on to the expectation, and reach for the hope, that we are not alone, that God cares, and is present. Through the Holy Spirit, I know God has my back. I see myself coming around a bend to find a new burden placed on my shoulder, but I also see Jesus, taking my hand, giving me his arm, and helping me carry whatever comes. The last three years have been filled with deep valleys for me. I’m sure you have your own. Thank you for sharing them with me. We all face change, and when we name those things for the people around us, we are also joining them in their own struggles. What we share is our vulnerability. We are united by the shared experiences of illness, loss, grief, and other hardships. But, oh, those peaks are splendid, aren’t they? I try to name them often. There are so many. The peaks have been times with you all on pilgrimage, our weekly worship services in which I am so deeply inspired and strengthened in faith, and solid, life-giving relationships with friends who companion me through uncertainty and grief, the joy that is always available if I but turn towards it with open arms, the wisdom, insight, and direction of a skilled therapist, the assurance of answered prayer. When I come around the corner, Jesus is there in these particular ways — the glory of worship, the beauty of nature, the gift of unconditional love, the wonder of self-discovery. This is a knowledge, deep and grounded within me, that the Lord is real. It’s taken time for me to be able to say that with integrity and clarity and authenticity, for it wasn’t always so. This unshakeable sense of the Divine presence comes from experience. The more we endure, the more we know this. Looking in the rearview mirror of our lives, we can see. Through hindsight, we revisit those low points. As we come up from the valleys, then we feel those strong everlasting arms of God pulling us up. Every time I have cried out of the depths, eventually I have come to sing praises for being saved from them and brought to a new place of joy. Like all of you, I have days of doubt and moments of despair. I struggle with how to help my boys have this kind of faith because they must find it for themselves. They simply need more days on this planet, slugging through trying to make good choices and dealing with the consequences of their unfortunate ones. They require more experiences and more trials. They must build a stash of memories in which they didn’t know how they would ever get through something dark and see the light again — and then they did. They need a stockpile. They aren’t going to get it just because I have told them my story. Their own story needs some more chapters. Surely this time with the coronavirus will be one of them if, God willing, they live through it. Annie Johnson Flint's life was marked with a series of tragedies that inspired her to write poetry. A young mother in my first congregation framed these words as a parting gift, and still today, the words hang in my bedroom. These rhyming verses are so simple. At times I think they are too simplistic, that I should draw from Rilke, or Kierkegaard, or T.S. Eliot for something more sophisticated. But reading them again brings me comfort. They are true — they name my own experience. And I can only hope that my children will come to express something similar as they power through these dark days. I pray that you find these words true as you come around the next corner, and into these dark days of Holy Week. God hath not promised skies always blue, Flower-strewn pathways all our lives through; God hath not promised sun without rain, Joy without sorrow, peace without pain. God hath not promised we shall not know Toil and temptation, trouble and woe; He hath not told us we shall not bear many a burden, many a care. God hath not promised smooth roads and wide, Swift, easy travel, needing no guide; Never a mountain rocky and steep, Never a river turbid and deep But God hath promised strength for the day, Rest for the labor, light for the way, Grace for the trials, help from above, Unfailing sympathy, undying love. Peace be with you, Rev. Melissa Anne Rogers
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