Today I made a visit to some friends who are just beginning to take in and care for elderly/dying people in their home. It was a little bit of a work trip -- they were having an open house to show off their home -- but I made it mostly to say hey to some friends. As they were showing off their house, they took me to one of the bedrooms. The room was still decorated with their family stuff, including a picture of their son-in-law who recently took his own life. While the friend played it off pretty quickly, the nature of her words showed me that there was still a good deal of pain and sadness associated with that memory.
Once a month at our company, we have an all-staff meeting. As a part of that meeting, we have a prayer time and allow people to share prayer requests. This month's prayer requests included a local teenager who had ended his life and another teenager who was being taken off of life support so that his organs could be harvested. The people that shared these requests were casual acquaintances, yet the sadness was evident. I can't imagine the feelings held by the immediate families. What profound sadness.
I have noticed in my years of ministry that churches and Christians don't typically do sadness very well. Not that we aren't sad; it's just that we don't know what to do with our sadness or the sadness of others. We somehow believe that it is the job of the follower of Jesus to offer some sort of encouragement that will make the person grieving magically "get over it." Rarely do we acknowledge that there are usually no good solutions to such sadness.
In the book of Job there is the story of a very righteous, successful man who has his life crash down around him. In one horrific day, he loses everything that is dear to him. After everything is taken away from him, he sits in ashes and mourns the losses. A group of his Christian friends come to offer their insight. (Yes, Mr. Smartypants Theologian, I know that Christians are a New Testament creation and this is an Old Testament book. But in the story, these friends want to speak conclusively on behalf of God, so they're playing the role that most of us Christ followers believe is ours to play.)
These friends came from a worldview that offered only one plausible solution when life crashes down. Clearly, Job had some deep dark secrets that he was hiding that only God could see and thus punish him for. So for chapters and chapters and chapters and chapters the friends argue with Job in an attempt to get the "truth" out of him. My hope would be that their quest for the "truth" is a deep desire to see Job redeemed and restored. My experience with such "truth" seekers is that they are usually wanting to get the good dirt on someone so that they can pass that along. Maybe during their next prayer group.
I have lots of things that I could say about these "friends," but they actually did one thing right. When the story of Job's calamity first reaches them, the hustle to Job's side, where they sit with him.
In silence.
For days.
No canned responses. No soothing platitudes. No misinformed opinions.
Just sit.
And be.
With.
Much of the sadness in our society comes from the fact that we are a disconnected people. We have such amazing connectivity tools like iPads and smartphones, Facebook and Blogger, but we have lost the ability to be with someone. We forget what it was like when we were sad. We knew that no one could bring back what was lost, but we needed someone to be with us. Not because they had answers. Not because they had a similar experience. We just wanted our sadness and pain to be recognized. We wanted to know that, despite the profound loss we had experienced,
we were not alone.
Someone was there to
be
with
us.
It's not that misery loves company; it's that unless misery has community, it will never move on. It will never transform. It will never be redeemed.
And that is perhaps the deepest sadness there can be.
