05 December 2017

Two Fires and a Funeral: Living Advent

Twenty years ago this week (tomorrow, specifically), a fire broke out in a dorm at Greenville College.  I was a junior.  I woke that morning knowing something was wrong - the air just felt different as soon as I drew my first breath.  It was eerily quiet, like the whole campus was holding her breath.  Within a matter of minutes I learned that the dorm had burned to the ground and a Senior, Joel Pierce, had died in the fire.

Nine years ago this week (yesterday, specifically), a fire broke out in the sanctuary of Immanuel Baptist Church in Paducah.  I was the Associate Pastor there, and I was in the building when it started.  It was the middle of the workday and the offices were bustling with people.  We had no idea when those first sparks caught what was about to become of our story.  The sanctuary was destroyed.  The walls and the stained glass were essentially all that survived.

Two years ago this week (the 3rd, specifically), a little girl in Iowa drew her last breath.  An accident in surgery just days after her birth caused brain damage and some paralysis that made every breath she drew in her 14 months of life, a tough one.  She was Milly Bles, and she was the single most amazing little girl I have ever known. 

What is it about this first week of Advent that beckons me to remember the sadness? 
I am sure there are other weeks in my life marked by such poignant events over the course of decades. 
But there is something about knowing that this grief happened during the week marked by Hope.  Something draws me to the pain, calls me to remember it. 
Every year.

The first winter rain streams down outside today. 
It feels like even the Bluegrass knows my sadness. 
And I wonder about the living of these days.

Living the advent journey begins with hope.
In my tears and frustration earlier this week, I said to a colleague,
"Why can't it be the week of Peace?  I need to hear that lesson this week."
But it can't be.

It can't be because in order to get to peace, you have to live through hope.
Hope doesn't happen when life is good.
Hope is found in the darkness.
In the hardest times.
In our weakness.

We don't need hope when all is right in the world.
We need hope when it all falls apart.

It has been a week of reflecting.
Of remembering.
Of storing up the memories of Greenville, Immanuel, and Wonder Milly's Team.
Of absorbing again the community found in each of those places.
Because it is in that remembering that I see God.

It is in the remembering of dark days that I can also see where God has walked alongside us.

Once the worst of the darkness is over, when dawn is on the horizon, we are able to see that God was present all along. 
That God has been at work in our midst. 
That she grieves with us. 
That she hopes with us.

And maybe that is part of living the advent story, too.
The walk through the darkness cannot be skipped over.
The journey to the manger doesn't begin with peace.
It has to begin with hope.
Hope for something better.
Hope for a new song to sing.
Hope in the darkness.

Even when it feels like the darkness will never end,
there is Hope.





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