Long before my dad got sick I had left behind (mostly) the notion of God making some divine plan out of our most horrible realities. I didn’t want to be part of a divine will that left babies dead at birth, or that allowed 3-year-olds to get cancer. Not a divine will that determines who gets born into a dangerous family environment, allows children to be abused, or intends for an entire community to be devastated by drought, floods, or war. I don’t want to believe that God had a special will that included one friend dying of cancer at the age of 43, or another dying suddenly at the age of 37. What I cling to is a faith that says there is a Holy One who makes all things new. There is a Spirit who reaches into the devastation (why the devastation happens is a mystery) and creates life in the death. I want to believe that every good and perfect gift is from above, whether or not I understand why there are ugly and devastating things that happen simultaneously, along with all the goodness.
I'm reflecting on grief and my own mortality this week. Join me in this new episode.
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