I’ve
found a powerful story in Dennis Linn’s small seventy page book: Sleeping
with Bread,
telling of the bombing raids of World War II where thousands of children were
orphaned and left to starve. After experiencing the fright of abandonment, many
of these children were rescued and sent to refugee camps where they received
food and shelter. Yet even in the presence of good care, they had experienced
so much loss that many of them could not sleep at night. They were terrified
they would awake to find themselves once again homeless and hungry. Nothing the
adults did seemed to reassure them, until someone thought to send a child to
bed with a loaf of bread. Holding onto their bread, the children were able to
sleep. If they woke up frightened in the night, the bread seemed to remind
them, "I ate today and I will eat again tomorrow."
Hours
before he was arrested, Jesus spoke to his disciples about the time ahead of
them, days they would face without his physical presence. "In a little while," he said, "you
will see me no more, and then after a little while you will see me." Reasonably, at his
words the disciples were confused. "What does he mean by 'a little while'?
We don't understand what he is saying," they grumbled. Jesus answered with
more than reassurance. To their confusion and uncertainty, perhaps also to
their fears of the worst and visions of the best, Jesus responded with
something they could hold on to. Concluding his last conversation with them
before the cross, he said,
"I have told you these things, so that in me you may have peace. In this
world you will have trouble. But take heart! I have overcome the
world."
I, not
unlike many in my personal world of family, friends, colleagues, and acquaintances, also, like a child with bread, seem to be holding onto what gives me life; Jesus! He offers peace in uncertainty, (Bettyann
uses the word Shalom), mercy in brokenness, something solid when all is lost.
He speaks of peace that transcends my understanding when I’m clinging to the One
who gives me life. This morning, being
honest with myself, I ask the question: when uttering this word “peace,” am I truly in a quiet state of mind? Or is my mind silenced by coercion or
despair—emotions associated with my religion?
In
my self examination, I’m finding for my personal edification, what I have
quoted hundreds if not thousands of times to parishioners and patients, the
Apostle Paul’s admonition "Do
not worry about anything," that he had every reason to be anxious about
everything. In prison and facing days
unquestionably out of his control, Paul was undeniably holding on to something
solid. "The Lord is
near," he wrote from a jail cell. "Do not be anxious about anything, but in everything, by
prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God. And the
peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and
your minds in Christ Jesus." Philippians 4:5b-7.
Am
I right when reading St. Paul
by thinking there is no promise for me as a follower of Christ that I will not experience
darkness or sorrow anymore than Paul was avoiding it or Jesus himself
escaped it? On the other hand, I am thinking he does promise, as clearly as Jesus promised
the disciples, that there is a reason for hope in the best and worst of times. So,
at seventy two, and experiencing loss in so many ways, I believe the Lord who
is near, in the person of the Holy Spirit, has overcome this world in which I
will continue to find trouble.
Father, God, I give You praise in acknowledging the fact that to be found in Your Son, Jesus Christ, means to be thoroughly
stilled by who Christ is. I am thankful
for the gospel because it is as if Jesus says; "These things I have spoken
to you, so that in me you might be thoroughly quieted by what gives you
life."
In
these days of aging, as loss after loss mounts, I allow Your Holy Spirit to convict
and comfort me in my knowing that Christ’s victory gives me fullness of life,
and the surety of that victory brings on peace that transcends all things. I ask that I be taken deeper into the mystery
of Christ, that through my trouble You can answer the cries of my heart with
more than reassurance. Thank You for the
story I have read of children pacified by the assurance of bread. I am
committed to holding the very Bread of Life, a hope more solid than my fears.
Amen
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