Plans and Interruptions

            It is said that life is what happens while you’re making other plans.

Very often, life is found in the interruptions that seem overwhelming: your son takes his own life, leaving behind a financial trainwreck for his unprepared children, his aging parents, and his siblings to sort out. All the survivors already had full plates and plans, but creditors have valid claims and there’s probate: legal fees and court costs cut into whatever assets may or may not exceed the indebtedness. So, plans get put on hold, vacation time is repurposed, and life is found in the interruptions. Grief, itself a different kind of interruption, will just have to wait.

And then “church” happens. People gather round with words, shared tears, hugs, food, prayers, and time, willingly setting their own plans aside and living with you in the interruptions. They even open their wallets to offer contingency funds.

But life doesn’t stop. It’s not put on hold. Life continues to move. Like water, it seeks its own level as gravity pulls it over, under, and around any obstacle that might interrupt its flow. Yet, we have choices. We can just let life flow, in which case there may be floods and eventually it might dwindle down to a trickle and finally soak into the ground and evaporate into the air, as the Colorado River does below the final dam along its journey through Mexico towards the Gulf of California. T. S. Eliot wrote, “This is the way the world ends,… not with a bang but with a whimper.”

Or we can exercise some degree of control over the flow, damming it up to create flood control, hydroelectrical power, and water conservation; or dredging out navigation channels to provide infrastructure for transportation.

But even with our best efforts, we ultimately are dependent upon mountain snowmelt and seasonal rainfall—measures beyond our control.

Metaphors aside, the only givens in life are birth and death. And to a large degree, the quality of life depends upon how we deal with the interruptions. We each are given, by genetics and by social interaction, certain skills and strengths for dealing with life. Social interaction includes family of origin—its support, abuse, or abandonment, learning environment, peer associations, cultural and community values, etc. Too often the natural (if there is such a thing) set of skills and strengths are skewed by physical, mental, emotional, or relational trauma. So, there are no standards. Each of us deals and copes; and at any given moment, we’re doing the best we can.

It is said, and I concur, that faith is a source of strength through life’s plans and interruptions. For me, the element of faith that sustains and strengthens is the community it produces. While I acknowledge every religious and spiritual system as a source of strength, I speak directly from my experience as a Christian. Jesus said one is known by the fruit one bears.

While the human interaction within each community intends and claims to reflect the life and teachings of Jesus, there are more than 45,000 Christian denominations globally[1], a number that has grown over time due to factors like disagreements, cultural and political differences, and differing interpretations of doctrine. So, which one accurately reflects the life and teachings of Jesus?

 My take is that the massive diversity of Christian platforms indicates that the understanding of and response to the recorded teachings of Jesus is skewed by the social and political environment of the participants.

It is no secret that, regardless of specific doctrinal affirmations, Christian ethics will generally reflect the dominant political climate of a given geographic area. With some exceptions, Christians in the south and mid-west are more likely to vote Republican, regardless of denominational affiliation, while Christians of the same denominations are more likely to vote Democratic in the northeastern and west coast areas.

The indication is that the ethics of American Christianity is more affected by politics than by biblical consensus. It seems obvious that the regional diversity of American Christianity is to be explained by some factor other than biblical.  

Perhaps the one element most common among all Christian communities is a level of mutual concern and loving support within local congregations. Studies from reputable sources consistently show that people who are regular participants in such communities are more likely to deal and cope constructively with life’s interruptions.

Maybe it’s because there is virtually universal consensus that kindness is a core human value, and grief may be the only human experience universally accepted as beyond our control. Grief can’t be blamed on laziness or entitlement or fraud.

My wife and I are grateful witnesses to the healing and restorative effects of kindness from a close and lovingly supportive church. With two post-graduate seminary degrees and numerous hours of continuing education credits, I have a reasonable understanding of the grief process; and after 57 years as a pastor, walking through that process with hundreds of grieving persons and families, we recently have been on the other side.

I have every reason to believe my faith alone would have sustained me. I don’t speak for my wife; however, her life confirms (for me) that her faith also sustains. Now, magnify that faith exponentially through the love and support of a church full of people who love each other. We are grateful for the love and support of First Christian Church (Disciples of Christ) in Conway, Arkansas, and to the staff and colleagues of our Great River Region.

That’s the way it looks through the Flawed Glass that is my world view.

Together in the Walk,

Jim

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