At the End of My Time: The End (#6)

From where the journey began, the end was not how I had imagined it. Indeed, I don’t think it’s how any of us really imagined it. Throughout my time, I would often run the vague scenarios in my head, as I tried to predict the circumstances of when and how I should be called away. But nothing definitive ever came to mind. Even so, I had the expectation (or at least the hope as all pastors do who rightly keep the end in mind) that there would be clarity from God on the one hand, while peace about it on the other – whatever the ‘end’ should be. As the dramatic irony of this series’ moniker makes obvious, that moment for me eventually came. And yet, while I did find the former, to my disappointment, there was hardly any peace.

There was more we were hoping to do. There was more we wanted to get done. But as my wise mother told me amidst the storm, sometimes the vision we’re given is not meant to be housed in the place we currently are. As the Lord says, “No one puts new wine into old wineskins… But new wine must be put into fresh wineskins” (Luke 5:37-38). I didn’t have much peace prior to that realization, since I wasn’t sure why God would call me to do something without also providing for it safe passage. But never the calm before the storm. When God provides clarity, never a guarantee that we will like how he does it. And indeed, I’ve never experienced so much pain in my life once that clarity came.

Everything seemed to be crumbling around me. The notes of hurt, abandonment, and derogation crescendoed louder and louder. Where did you go, Lord? Why did you remove your hand? Here I was, alone – and I didn’t want to be left alone. But then, so much of the unsolicited counsel only made me feel as if I was surrounded by the vexing company of Job’s friends, being offered the sort of simpleton piety I so detest. In which case, I would rather be alone.

Still, I was not completely void. There were those who simply stayed and wept, remained there with me in the hurt and confusion. More than I can express, thank you – to family, friends, and students – for this sustaining grace. (You know who you are). Thank you for the grace (of food, compassion, and visitation) that pulled me back to the only sure thing there is, the great promises of our God: “Though I walk in the midst of trouble, you preserve my life; you stretch out your hand against the wrath of my enemies, and your right hand delivers me. The Lord will fulfill his purpose for me; your steadfast love, O Lord, endures forever” (Ps. 138:7). “The Lord is near to the brokenhearted and saves the crushed in spirit” (Ps. 34:18). Here I found myself being reminded of the very thing I had taught you: that God does not promise us a life without suffering; only that he will always be with us. Thank you for showing me that the Lord I AM is still here – with me, with us, near to the brokenhearted.

God’s sovereignty has been a sight to behold. As I shared with one student on our long drive down to Princeton, what a humbling experience of God’s majestic power, that works the paradoxes (i.e. ‘the struggle’ and ‘the joy’) of this experience still for the singular end of joining us further to himself. Indeed, when Jesus speaks in parables, he does so to conceal the matter to those with hardness of heart, while at the same time revealing the things of God’s kingdom to the humble and lowly. He puts the first last and repositions the last as first. He takes the evils of Joseph’s brothers and reworks it for the good of his people. He permits righteous man Job’s suffering, yet without any violation to his own justice and love. He declares that the greatest in heaven are the least of these, placing the powerless child in the center. The greatest of all: that he should suffer on the cross the defeat of death in the God-man Christ, because precisely therein lies his glorious victory. This is God’s sovereignty.

“We speak of Mystery here, the Mystery of God with us… We cannot explain this, nor subsume it into another category and class, nor defend it using earthly tools. We receive it in wonder; we praise it; we turn aside to see this great thing the Lord God has done” (Sonderegger, 79). Selah.

Thus, only because a sovereign God, who shares in our suffering and we in turn his, can do it, the end is now being transfigured towards a new beginning, pain into hope (Romans 5:3-5). Piercing into the depths of this reality, Bonhoeffer articulates better than I ever could: “It is God alone who makes a new beginning with a person, when God is pleased to do so, and not the human being who undertakes to do it with God. So a new beginning is not something one can do for oneself. One can only pray for it to happen. As long as people rely only on themselves and try to live that way, that is still the old way, the same way as in the past. Only with God is there a new way, a new beginning… But we can pray only when we have realized that there is something we cannot do for ourselves, that we have reached our limit, that someone else must be the one to begin.” Thank you for making us so helpless so as to, once again, be so dependent upon you, God of the new beginning. 

This series of reflections is dedicated to my students. May it help you to not forget the faithfulness of the sovereign God. See and behold all that he has done! As I now bookend these reflections, I do so on a note of thanks. Thank you for letting me be your pastor. It has been a tremendous gift, and it is one that I will cherish until the day I die. Thank you for a friendship that will carry into the rest of our lives. Through all the joys and hardships, thank you for putting up with me and for making me more than I otherwise would be. Thank you for this heart of gratitude, which you filled with joy, love, and laughter. Now God is doing something new. So let us return to the good work ahead of us, as we live by his promise: onward to eternal glory!

Epilogue (for me, now rest):