When the Tower Crumbles: getting to the Land of Grace

Previous blogs in this series:
1-- Pits, Towers, Fields and Dancing
2-- ... Thoughts on Sheep
3-- Getting out of the Towers
4-- The Shadowlands
5-- The Land of Grace: Casting Shadows

Guys, my heart is so heavy today.

This week has been a deluge of tragedies in the lives of people I care about. My students, some of my dearest friends, my core group girls-- favorite people all around me are being crushed by tragedy and disappointment.

This morning, while praying, I started to cry in grief and frustration. "Would you DO something God? Could you be miraculous? Could you be radiant somehow? Could you fricking HELP?"

I tried to suggest that I take over for Him for a while. "I need words of encouragement Lord. Give me pictures to offer them. Give me words of hope." I thought about what I would be doing if I had the power of God. Certainly, I thought, I'd be doing more than HE is right now. "You'd better give me words of comfort, Lord," I told Him, "Because my people NEED comfort." Though I didn't outright accuse God of slacking on the comfort-provision job, we both know I was implying it.

The only response I got from God was stern. "That is not your job. I am their comfort."

I sighed hard in frustration and sadness, and even though I didn't want to release the burden of this responsibility, it slipped off my shoulders anyway.

There is a problem with the Land of Grace. The Land of Grace is not immune to inclement weather. Crap happens, even in the Land of Grace, because as long as we are on this earth, crap will HAPPEN. The Land of Grace is not heaven, it is not Disneyland, it is not immune. It is a place of freedom, yes, of truth, yes. Jesus, the "good shepherd," is ever present in the Land of Grace, and He is a pro at helping us out of our pits. But it is also a place of great complexity, and it is not immune to tragedy.

When talking with one of my students yesterday about the huge grief and disillusionment he was experiencing, he said, "I feel like everything I've ever trusted in and believed in is crumbling down around me. I don't know what to think or believe right now."

I thought:
"Real Life Tower Crumblers:
-----> Anyone who's ever had an expectation of God that He didn't meet.
-----> Anyone who's ever experienced a tragedy that seems senseless.
-----> Anyone who's ever been massively disappointed by someone they trusted and believed in.
-----> Anyone whose formulas for success have failed.
-----> Me."

And I looked at my student, and I thought, "Him too."

When our pillars of certainty fall, when our towers of black and white crumble, what do we do? Where is God in that moment?

In my blog about "Getting out of the Towers" (linked above), I wrote, "It's only a matter of time before the Tower topples, leading these poor people searching for certainty, searching for Truth, desperate for protection. It's terrifying when a Tower crumbles... but probably the best thing that could ever happen to a Tower-clinger in the long run."

This morning, with tragedy in my face, attached to names that I love, that hypothesis was ruthlessly challenged. When life falls apart, IS it truly the best thing that could happen to a "Tower-clinger"? How dare I suggest that this sort of tragedy could actually be beneficial? And what about people that got out of the Towers a long time ago? What about people that are doing their best to live in the Land of Grace, but keep getting pushed into pits by elements outside of their control?

Let me be clear: I don't think that tragedy like my friends are experiencing is always beneficial. I think a lot of crap happens in this world that God doesn't have a hand in, and I think it grieves Him just as much as it does me. I do believe-- reluctantly-- that God must allow any circumstance to occur because I believe He is all-powerful. And I do believe that God can work good from all circumstances, because I've seen that truth play out in my life again and again.

Still. Sometimes He's a lot slower in bringing good about than I wish He was.

This was the picture that came into my head this morning:

I pictured a Tower falling, as catastrophic as 9/11. I pictured a weeping someone, standing amidst the wreckage, overwhelmed with the brokenness around them. I pictured the someone feeling vulnerable, afraid, clueless as to where to go next.

The setting clarified itself: the debris, and the someone stood on a stormy beach. Waves roared, the sky thundered. Jesus emerged on the shore with a boat and an extended hand. He looked deep at the someone and without speaking, asked: "Come with me."

This, I think, is maybe the most crucial decision any of us will ever make. Do we stare hard back at Him, and opt for the Shadowlands instead? Do we decide, at that point, we've had entirely enough of HIM, and we'd rather take our chances on our own? Do we determine He isn't trustworthy, hasn't proved Himself trustworthy?

Or is it worth the risk to get in the boat? Is it worth taking that one last chance-- of trading chaos for a small vessel sailing out into a sea of ambiguity, captained only by a man who promises love and saving, no matter what?

In my picture, the someone sighed deeply, looked hard at Jesus, and stepped into the boat, leaving the wreckage on the shore. Slowly, slowly, I watched the waves begin to coax the debris into the ocean. Slowly, slowly I saw the beach begin to clear.

In the boat then, sailing further and further into a vast nebulous sea where there is nothing to cling to except the Lord at the helm, the someone sits and weeps and watches the waves. And because there is NOTHING except the Lord, the someone learns His voice well, because it is the only voice. And because there is NO ONE except the Lord, the someone learns to love Him and trust Him as one could only love and trust their sole companion. In that sea of questions, the only sure thing is His presence.

I think getting to the Land of Grace requires the crossing of this ambiguous ocean.

Because when the chaos descend-- and they WILL descend, even in the Land of Grace-- the ONLY way I see survival occurring is by returning to that only Lord. How can we love, if we don't know the Voice of Love? How can we trust, if we are not clinging to the Lord of Saving? When we find ourselves falling into a gaping maw of shattered earth, how can we climb out, unless we reach for the only arms strong enough to pull us out?

I am frustrated with my Lord today. And yet, as I cried in frustration during prayer this morning, I pictured myself clinging to His legs and begging for His help.

Even in the moments I would fight Him, I need Him.

I cannot be my friend's source of comfort, because I am not enough. I must go to Him for comfort, and pray they do the same. Grace, perhaps, is allowing Him to be powerful, and ourselves to be powerless.

Lord, help. You're needed.