Heartsick

Jeremiah 8:18-9:1
Old Testament Reading for the Eighteenth Sunday after Pentecost (Year C) 

I remember the squeaking of the plastic folding chairs. The puddles of light cast from high above the backstage area where we sat. I don't remember his name, but I remember his voice: trying to remain composed but on the verge of breaking down. Like a dam was about to burst and all the pain was going to flood out of him.

The young man shared a dark chapter of his life. It was a story that no one his age should have to tell. He had been hurt, he had made mistakes, and then he had been wounded some more. It was a vicious cycle.

He didn't look at me much. His head hung low. But when his eyes caught mine, I could tell he was searching for something. I didn't know if he was looking to see if I would judge him as others had. Maybe he was wondering if I would freak out or run away. Perhaps he was searching for some kind of answer to the problems plaguing him. In fact, I was pretty sure that is what he was looking for. He was desperate for some kind of quick fix. And my heart felt like a stone inside my chest because I knew things were likely going to get worse for him before they got better.

I don't know how long we sat there, but at some point he asked the question. I could tell it had been on his mind forever but he never felt like he could say it. 

"Where is God in this?" 

It hung in the air. He looked me in the eyes and now my head was the one that was cast down. I took a deep breath and looked back at him. 

"I don't know." His eyes returned to the floor. "But I have to believe God is with you." Incredulity washed over his face. "But I know it doesn't feel like it. And I wish I could. But the truth is there are times when I don't feel like God is with me. And it sucks. But I really do believe God is with you somehow." I did believe that but the words did not sound confident. I felt powerless. I wanted to help this kid, but I felt like I was doing the exact opposite. It made me feel sick. Yet I also felt like God was strangely there.

The words from Jeremiah this week resurrected that memory. The prophet's heart is sick because his people are in misery and it seems like God is nowhere to be found. There is no sense of immediate relief. The only thing that Jeremiah feels like he can do is to wail day and night for those whose lives have been lost. It's a difficult passage after which to speak the refrain, "This is the word of the Lord. Thanks be to God."

Yet this exists in scripture. We cannot skirt around it no matter how much we want. There are going to be times when everything seems lost. There are going to be moments when there seems like there will be no healing, no relief, no God. I believe God is still there, but it sure does not feel like it in those times. We cannot stick our heads in the sand concerning this reality. Not only will we experience seasons in which this happens to us, but we will have moments in which we sit in a room with a broken person. Their story will make our hearts sick. And we won't be able to offer quick fixes. There will be no balm to soothe their soul.

But if we sit with them. If we walk with them through the slow, painful, seemingly glacial process of putting one foot in front of another then I think we're doing God's work. We must mourn and be present. Then maybe, maybe we will find a glimmer of God's presence in there.