A beautiful fall leaf from our front yard, on top of others that had been charred by fire in May. Hope amidst the darkness. |
I’ve always loved the movie It’s A Wonderful
Life. Jimmy Stewart plays George Bailey, the good-hearted man who has
dreams of leaving his little town and making a name for himself
somewhere out in the big world. Time and again his dreams are put on hold
as he looks out for others, watches out for his family and eventually takes
over his father’s business not because he wanted to, but because he was needed.
Through a series of unfortunate events, life just piles up on him and
eventually he finds himself saying “it would be better if I had never been
born!” Clarence, the angel, then gives him a chance to find out what life would
have been like for everyone else had George never been born, and he discovers
that so many decisions he had made in his lifetime, so many small favors, so
many ways that he had helped others, had ended up having a gigantic impact. He
may have felt like a failure, but God had been using him and his life in
profound ways. His life mattered, and he himself mattered to more people than
he realized on a much deeper level than he ever could have fathomed.
On May 29, 2014, my family suffered a terrible loss as a fire started in our garage. By the time the fire department arrived, flames engulfed the entire garage and had begun to spread into the main dwelling area. My wife Karin and I could only watch helplessly as smoke billowed from the house. When it was finally put out, the heat had melted the vinyl siding off the side of our next door neighbor’s house, it had obliterated our garage including the minivan that had been parked inside, it had basically melted our kitchen, and the heat and soot had destroyed the vast majority of our belongings. It only took three crates to hold everything the restoration company classified as “salvageable.”
On May 29, 2014, my family suffered a terrible loss as a fire started in our garage. By the time the fire department arrived, flames engulfed the entire garage and had begun to spread into the main dwelling area. My wife Karin and I could only watch helplessly as smoke billowed from the house. When it was finally put out, the heat had melted the vinyl siding off the side of our next door neighbor’s house, it had obliterated our garage including the minivan that had been parked inside, it had basically melted our kitchen, and the heat and soot had destroyed the vast majority of our belongings. It only took three crates to hold everything the restoration company classified as “salvageable.”
Karin and I had purchased that house when we got married, and were
the first owners to live in it. We had brought two children home from the
hospital to that house. We had laughed and cried, we had suffered tremendous
loss and had shared incredible joy, we had grown from young kids
barely out of college to adult parents with careers and responsibilities. That
house, and the mementos of our lives we had collected there over the years, had
been the setting for many, many memories. And in such an incredibly short time,
so much of that was gone.
Now, I’m not one who believes “everything happens for a reason.” I am a lifelong
Christian, and a current seminary student, but I don’t think God acts in that
way. From what I have learned and experienced over the years, God isn't in the
business of causing suffering. I don’t think God causes our pain just so that
something good can result later on. I do, however, believe and trust with
everything that I am that God is in the business of taking suffering and
transforming it. God takes our pain and creates joy. God takes darkness and
creates light. In the cross, we see God take on death itself, and in the empty
tomb God creates the promise of new life. In what our family experienced that
day in May, God took destruction and created hope. Just as a burning bush spoke
to Moses and assured him that God would be by his side and lead him, just as a
pillar of fire led Israel out of slavery and into the freedom of the promised
land, so too did God work through what we experienced, creating new
possibilities. We discovered (or re-discovered, or perhaps finally claimed for
ourselves) a number of truths that make It’s a Wonderful Life such
a beautiful movie for me.
First of all, we discovered the profound truth that when the
things we rely on and put our trust in other than God are stripped away, be
they our possessions, our money, our self-reliance, or a multitude of other
things, we discover what really matters. We discover that our faith, which is
so easily professed when things are going our way, really and truly is our rock
when the storms come. We discover that as long as we have each other and as
long as we have God’s love, the rest of it really is superfluous. It doesn't mean that things are easy—goodness knows I don’t want to romanticize our
situation and make it sound as though what we've experienced has been
sunshine and rainbows. It certainly hasn't. But in the midst of adversity, when everything else we tend to rely on as a false idol
is stripped away, that's when we most fully experience God’s presence in our
lives.
As a theologian of the cross, I firmly believe that God dwells in
the dark places. When we look for God, we shouldn't be looking to the high and
the mighty and the powerful and the successful…we should be looking to the
burnt out remains of a house with a husband and wife clinging to each other,
trying to shield two frightened children, wondering how they’re going to get by
and just live day to day while the insurance companies and the powers that be
drag their feet. That’s where God’s presence is most profoundly felt and
experienced.
Second, we discovered the same truth that the angel Clarence
left in a note for George at the end of It’s a Wonderful
Life. He wrote, “No man is a failure who has friends.” Now, we
knew that we had friends. We knew that people cared about us and our kids, and
there have always been a ton of people we've felt the same way about. What we didn't realize, however, was the extreme depth nor the extreme breadth of those
friendships. In the movie, George gets into financial trouble trying to help
out the savings and loan he’s responsible for. When the town gets wind of it,
without even being asked they give whatever they can to help him out. All it
takes is the word “George is in trouble,” and the town begins trying to find ways
to meet his family’s needs. That is precisely what we experienced as well after
our fire.
Our family, our friends, our coworkers, our church community, an
online Husker football forum, friends from long ago who we had almost
completely lost touch with, even our son’s orthodontist’s office…there were SO
many people who came from everywhere, giving what they could simply because
they heard we needed help. Whether it was monetary or material donations, or
babysitting or conversation or prayer or notes of encouragement
or “let’s go out for dinner and drinks so we can do something that feels
normal, and I’ll pick up the tab this time,” we were surrounded by so much
support and love, it was almost overwhelming at times. A group of
neighbors coordinated giving drives and a huge fundraiser at our church. A
family offered us their home for 6 months as they left for a professorial
sabbatical elsewhere. There have just been so many incredible responses,
overwhelming in the best possible way—that humbling feeling of being enveloped
in life-changing, transformative love. What we've experienced in a very
tangible way has been the body of Christ we read about so often in the New
Testament. It has been a very real taste of what the Reign of God that Jesus
refers to so often in his parables actually looks and feels like. We are living
a parable, and it’s a beautiful thing.
The biggest lesson, the biggest truth that I have been thankful
for throughout this entire experience is the same realization that
George Bailey came to: our lives have far more significance than we will ever
fully know. Early in the movie, George’s younger brother Harry falls through
the ice on a pond where they were sledding, and George saves him by
pulling him out. Later, Harry becomes a World War II hero when he saves a
number of other men. The angel Clarence points out to George when he’s
experiencing what the world would have been like without him
that because of his absence, not only would Harry die, but so would all
the people on the transport that Harry had saved in the war. That’s only one
example of the far-reaching effects of George’s life.
Since our house fire, Karin and I have both been told stories of
how our lives have impacted others—so many times, these stories have been
things that we had no idea about. I had a member of the online Husker sports
forum I frequent tell me that because of my words and encouragement, they found
their way back to church and rediscovered their faith. I had no idea of any of
that until this person told me. Others have told us stories of how our family
has impacted their lives, and how they’re more than happy to help us because we
have been such a help to them or to others—most of what we've been told, we
would have had no idea about otherwise.
The lesson here for all of us is a huge one. Don't discount your
impact. The scripture reference about the body having many members and everyone
having a part to play is so amazingly true—you DO make a difference, often in
ways you will never realize or see the fruits of. No matter who you
are or what you do or what you have done or what’s been done to you, God has
created you in God’s image as a beloved child, and God has created you for
relationship and community. In our individualistic Western society, where rugged
independence is held up as the greater good, it is easy to lose sight of that.
For those of us professing the Christian faith in a triune God, a God
who is both three and yet still one, what that means is we were created in
the image of a God whose primary identity
is community which overflows beyond itself and into love for all of creation.
That’s our primary God-created identity as well: many, yet one, united through
the Holy Spirit in a community of love that can’t help but overflow to the rest
of the world.
As I wrote before, I’m a seminarian. I think theologically. But if
theology cannot be applied practically, then what use is it, other than a fun
little academic exercise? My goodness, what an experience my family has
had through all of the hard times these last months, through all of the
wondering and fear and sadness. We really have experienced God’s presence.
We've experienced God through the faces of those around us and we've
experienced God through the stripping away of everything else we've tried to
put our faith in. We've experienced God through very real adversity,
adversity where we are still facing a number of huge question marks even
today. Yet in it we all have found reassurance of a God who walks
alongside us, reassurance of that same God’s presence through so many who
surround us with their love and prayer, reassurance that our lives do make
an impact and a difference, that God does work through us, and reassurance that
no matter what, we trust in a God who has the final word, who in the cross and
the empty tomb has already won the ultimate victory on our behalf.
For all of those things, how could we not be thankful? Thanks be to
God.
LH