I read a passage from the bible today. I had a weak memory of this story, like maybe I had brushed beside it long ago – a memory of a memory. As I read through the developing plot I instinctively knew how this story would end, even while hoping – expecting – God to intervene… to make right what was blatantly, horrifically wrong.

But he didn’t. Intervene. And my hope felt wasted.

Injustice, hopelessness, murder, meaninglessness, lament… had the last word in this story. A nameless girl utterly abandoned – obliterated. My longing for a child I can’t have seems to grow uglier in the face of a parent who destroys the child they DO have.

God didn’t show up for this girl, her father either for that matter. In fact, it seems God may have been the culprit – must have been – right?

Like any grief or pain or loss that finds me in this post-Graham era, it layers onto my soul and suddenly I can’t untangle my emptiness from hers — It’s all the same disappointment – a double portion of fear – and my anger that once lay dormant now suddenly rages in desperate abandon.

What pain is mine – sacred and holy – and what pain is hers? or yours? Is all pain my pain? Certainly not, but certainly so.  I can’t even handle my own hell…

I don’t have resolve and I don’t really have a meaning to share with you. When I went looking for an explanation, a silver-lining – any way to balm my throbbing scars and lessen the overwhelming feeling of betrayal – I came across this recorded sermon. I rarely watch sermons as they pop up in my news feed (even when I’m sure to appreciate it) and because I rarely watch, I rarely share (even when I’ve come across a really good one). But I could discover very little else, so I watched – just 20 minutes – and Jesus broke in. He flooded through me. So I’m leaving it here for you to find – a quite act of resistance.

Injustice, horror, hopelessness is threaded into my story – and it IS in yours too… it most certainly is the heart-song of this little Israeli girl from all those years ago.  It just IS. Today I am claiming this truth. I’m holding it up high and taking the time to simply stare at the ugly, ugly display.

Today I am broken. Incredibly disappointed and sorrowful. But sometimes lament is resistance.  and sometimes resistance is hope.


2 thoughts on “Resistance

  1. breckaarnett July 14, 2017 / 5:26 am

    I woke up after having a dream a dream I didn’t want to have. It was of Graham at my home, but it was me trying to save him. I woke up and my heart hurt. I wasn’t going to tell anyone. Then you posted a new blog and I just wanted to tell you that I love you and I miss you and I think of all of you often.


    • drwengel July 14, 2017 / 8:28 am

      Oh Brecka. Thank you. For sharing in the ugly and the love.


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