Losing Control

Here I am, guest blogging this week for my good friend.  I’ll just say, he’s a tough act to follow!

On a snowy Saturday night in the East Village, my wife and I had our yearly night out with Shamus and Kristine.  Some serious things have transpired since we last sat down for dinner in the city.  It seems like the past year has profoundly challenged the four of us in many ways.  We have a special relationship with the Smiths and it’s hard to think of another audience where my wife and I can unpack a mixed bag of grief, confusion and hardship and start to laugh instead of shedding a tear.  I love them for that!

As we spoke on topics as diverse as the economy, home schooling and a certain storm that wreaked havoc last fall, I noticed a common thread.  If the thought of not being in control is scary then the reality of not being in control is downright terrifying.  The funny thing is, it was always the reality though we rarely owned up to it in a serious way.  To acknowledge how little control we have over our lives seems so…defeatist in our culture…maybe even cowardly or lazy.  Aren’t we supposed to seize the day and master our destiny? 

I never truly understood homelessness until Hurricane Sandy.  Due to the kindness of family and friends (and complete strangers) we have had a place to stay for the past 4 1/2 months and our material needs have been generously met.  We are extremely grateful for these blessings.  I know our house still stands in the neighborhood where my children grew up but after all these months we spent trying to rebuild it…it doesn’t feel like home anymore.  So much has changed, neighbors have moved away and our once beautiful community has been washed away and left desolate...it’s very depressing to walk the streets where I once loved to take in the gorgeous sunrises over the ocean.  Even as residents slowly move back in, there is a tangible cloud of despair overshadowing everything.  We feel like the characters in every story about lost wanderers from Israel’s wilderness trek to Island castaways waiting for a rescue, only this time, there seems to be no promised land in sight.  Maybe we feel like the ‘rolling stone’ Bob Dylan sang about.  But where do we go from here?

Tonight while still pondering these things I stumbled on a Bible verse accidentally.  “Lord, you are my God; I will exalt you and praise your name, for in perfect faithfulness you have done wonderful things, things planned long ago.”  I guess it’s not all about where you’ve been or where you think you’re going when it comes down to it.  The question is who am I following?  The simple truth of that verse brought me peace.  Lord , none of this surprises you.  You have done wonderful things…and you planned them long ago.  You plotted this perilous course.  Do I trust you with my story? 

It says elsewhere, “For we are God’s Masterpiece.  He has created us anew in Christ Jesus, so we can do the good things he planned for us long ago.”  There’s that phrase again..’planned long ago’.  How much thought is put into a masterpiece?  As a creative person I know the feeling of laboring over a piece of dialogue, a color choice, a camera angle…just to get it right.  What a feeling of elation when those scribbled lyrics, or erratic sketches or painful strumming cross the line from noise to beauty.  It’s like the experience of birth…the feeling that you brought some warmth and light to a cold, dark place that made all the suffering, the sleepless nights and the confusion worth it. 

So I guess I could say this journey has taught me a few things.  Among them I’ve learned control is an illusion.  Life can turn on a dime and there are no easy answers.  Still above all, I hear the voice of Christ saying, as he did to his disciples, “Follow Me.”  Did they know what they were getting into?  Maybe not…but they trusted in the One who said, “In this world you will have trouble but take heart, I have overcome the world!”   As we prepare to return to our house soon, may we find a place of security and love but if we never feel too comfortable and find it difficult to call it ‘home’ it may not be the worst thing.  I’m reminded we are still on the journey and we haven’t quite reached the place we can lay our burdens down and call our true home.