On Sorrow and Hope

A note: Names have been changed to protect the identities of those mentioned in these stories.

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Today marks a particular observance in the Western Church that invites you and I to share the unique grief that the mother of Jesus experienced throughout her life. There are various reflections on scripture, works of art, and prayers that help people through this process, but I find that the stories of the students I meet through my work in campus ministry provide me with an easier understanding of such grief. One story a student shared with me provides an arresting reflection on the powerful narrative that the Gospels provide.

I first met Candice early last year in much the same way the newer students in our fellowship would meet her. She approached our outreach table confidently, gave me a look up and down, and said, "Hello, sexy b*tch." My colleague, engaged in conversation with another student, didn't blink despite Candice's forward and completely inappropriate comment. Apparently I wasn't the first target through the recent years. What followed in the course of conversation was the typical tirade of questions directed at our "God squad," where I heard anything from questions regarding the gay community to sexual positions to graphic descriptions of internet cartoons depicting infant homicide. If she expected me to give up and be disgusted at her irreverence, I simply couldn't bring myself to do it. It probably helped that her tone wasn't at all accusative or angry; she was speaking of such things as if she was talking about the weather or asking what we thought of the latest episode of Glee.

It wasn't until later in the year that I was actually glad she was a part of our community (or rather, that she staked out a sizable portion for herself in our fellowship!). She decided to attend a bible study that I co-led with a student, yet quickly ignored any prompts to analyze the text itself or attempt to understand the passage in front of her (we were reading through the book of Hebrews, if I remember correctly).  Instead she shared with us her own "issues with God." She shared the most about her exploitation by various romantic partners, family problems, and general alienation from every friend group she identified with. Most striking for me was her lingering fear of death, something she claims has increased with every passing night, and especially when she calls out to God. She then asked us, "why hasn't God answered me?" It was only then that her normally monotone voice rang with emotion: anger with a hint of pain, and urgency with a hint of desperation.

I can't imagine how Mary herself felt as she witnessed her son's journey from the healthy, active life of a carpenter, to a traveling homeless preacher, and finally to his capture, torture, and humiliating death at the hands of those in power. I don't know if she asked some of the same questions, but I know that fear and doubt can be powerful avenues for the transforming work of the Spirit when otherwise we would be tempted to despair if left to our own reckoning. Candice reminds me of this reality, in an unexpected sort of way. Her presence in our community is a potent reminder of that profound reality that so many people in our midst share her struggles. Community and relationship help, but only the healing work of Christ the savior, who conquered death itself, can overcome our own fear and doubts. My prayer for Candice is the same as my prayer for all victims of violence, injustice, and oppression; be they minority communities, women, slaves, or those who suffer in our midst without the outward appearances. For we all need liberation from our sin, we all need redemption and hope in the midst of the crazy world that laughs at such naive ideas.

"God has a way of wringing good out of evil,"

 said Martin Luther King Jr, at the funeral of four young girls (shown above) killed in the 1963 Sixteenth Street Baptist Church bombing, which we solemnly remember today. He continues:

"History has proven over and over again that unmerited suffering is always redemptive."

I think Jesus had something to say about this as well:

"Blessed are you who mourn, for you shall be comforted."

Lord, may you provide us your mercy. Show us the way to hope, and shine the light of your Resurrection upon us all! Maranatha!



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P.S.

A few weeks ago we saw Candice at our booth as usual, but she informed me that she "renounced her atheist card" and plans on "giving this whole God thing a try." We see her every day on campus, and continue to pray for her to receive the healing of Christ that she reminds us we all need. She still calls me a "Sexy B*tch."