Prayer, Hope & Advent

This reflection on Psalm 43 and Advent was shared in the December 2015 Chaplains’ Letter for the St. Cloud Hospital.

Psalm 43
Defend me, O God, and plead my cause against a godless nation. From a deceitful and cunning people rescue me, O God.

Since you, O God, are my stronghold, why have you rejected me? Why do I go mourning, oppressed by the foe?

O send forth your light and your truth; let these be my guide. Let them bring me to your holy mountain, to the place where you dwell.

And I will come to your altar, O God, the God of my joy. My redeemer, I will thank you on the harp, O God, my God.

Why are you cast down, my soul? Why groan within me? Hope in God; I will praise him still, my savior and my God.

Why are you cast down, my soul? Why groan within me?

Heartache, stress, anxiety over what’s next are just a few of the answers we may have to these timeless questions. This summer as a chaplain at the hospital, I encountered patients and families groaning in physical agony and emotional distress. Like the psalmists, they took the whole feelings wheel to God. And like the psalmists, these patients and their families were totally honest before God, trusting God with their cancer, broken legs and mental health concerns. The first time I felt this trust came during my first night on call, when I was paged to be with an eleven year old girl, whose mom’s heart had just stopped beating.

Now if there was ever a time to lament, to rage to God, where are you? Why have you rejected me? it’s the final two minutes before the doctors stop trying to revive your mother. This extraordinary girl didn’t rage, but she brought Psalm 43 totally alive for me. Let me share what happened through a poem I wrote called, “This wasn’t the summer vacation you had in mind.”

This wasn’t the summer vacation you had in mind.
You couldn’t go swimming yesterday.
Water beetles were too much, the big people said.
Then came the ambulance.
More big people swooped in and started shouting things about blood pressure and heart rate.
What? You’d rather talk about ducks and hedge hogs.

You were supposed to go roller skating today,
but instead, you’re on your way to the craft store.
The nurses thought it would be nice to get mommy’s handprint in clay
… “just in case.”
An art project from hell, but a nice keepsake,
if now is really the time to make keepsakes.

Last week you saved a baby bunny from the teeth of Patches your pup.
Now you want to save mommy, too.
And if the world were a fair place, maybe you could.
In that fair world, all it’d take is a hug or some tears to make things right.
Ask and you shall receive, exactly what you want, when you want it.
Please and thank you.

But your young, bright mind knows life doesn’t work like that.
There’s no magic snap for “shoulds” and “wants.”
Mommies get sick,
Grandmas get sad,
Water beetles take over the lake,
And “just in case” becomes “I’m so sorry. She didn’t make it.”

So in that cold waiting room, where you couldn’t swim or skate away,
you folded your tiny hands over your humongous heart and did the only thing you knew to be sure:
You prayed.
Yes, you prayed, believing with your humongous heart
that no matter what happens to mommy or grandma or those pesky water beetles,
God is there, He loves you, and He’s listening.

She prayed! Her soul was cast down, groaning with unspeakable grief. Eleven year olds are not supposed to bury their mommies! And yet, here she was … praying. Hoping.

Hope in God; I will praise him still, my savior and my God.

For weeks, this experience haunted me. It just didn’t make sense … until I thought about who this child was praying to.

Advent is a season of preparation — and of hope.

The psalmist pleaded to God, “send forth your light and your truth; let these be my guide.” In times of oppression, loss and grief, we yearn for that light, for some sign that God is really here with us.

At the end of Advent, we celebrate the birth of the ultimate light and truth into this broken, bleeding world! We are forever given reason to hope.

Jesus Christ, the light and truth of the world, is why an eleven year old can watch her mommy die and know that God is there, loving her and listening.

Jesus Christ, the light and truth of the world, is why the persecuted psalmists of today can still cling to God as their stronghold and their redeemer.

Jesus Christ, the light and truth of the world, is why each one of us, weary as we may be, can hope in God and praise God still. This is the truth of our savior. This is the promise of our God.