"I will ransom them from the power of the grave; I will redeem them from death: O death, I will be thy plagues; O grave, I will be thy destruction." - Hosea 13:14 (King James Version)
Call it "winter blahs." Call it "The Januaries." The afterglow of the holiday season seems to always be a time of heaviness, a time of reckoning. This year, in particular, our Dwellers have had to deal with deep personal loss in a concentrated way. Between November and now, we've suffered the passing of three grandparents, and have been praying for the health of many other friends and family members. It is always hard to balance what we believe, that Jesus has conquered death, and what we feel: Sadness, emptiness, maybe even some regrets.
This week, the Dwellers and I traveled north to Valyermo and visited St. Andrew's Abbey, a Benedictine monastery up in the mountains. This is becoming tradition, as it serves as the perfect backdrop to a solitude retreat, one where we practiced silence in prayerful hope that we might find better reception for the voice of God, putting Psalm 46:10 into practice ("Be still, and know that I am God.") We were directed to visit the cemetery, which made sense on several levels. The austere desert mountain bleakness echoed with what many of us are feeling. In the dimness of January, it would seem like there exists a small death of fervor for the mission. Joy seems to be taking a nap.
Which, I'm reminded, is okay. I found myself contemplating the Saturday (or whatever day it actually was) that Jesus was neither dying nor reborn, between the cross and the rising. What a dark day that must have been. I can hardly imagine. But it turns out alright, gloriously better than ever expected. Jesus rises, having conquered death and re-establishing true hope for humanity, now and forever.
So, we take heart. In our grieving over loved ones who've passed, we look to the empty tomb. In the funk we find ourselves in this month, we can look to the energetic and passionate letters of Paul. We have so much work ahead of us within this mission, in this neighborhood, and with each other, and find ourselves overwhelmed. But we take heart, ask for prayer over the coming months, over the health of the garden, over the health of the little community and the heart it brings to the neighbors. And we settle back down in the hope that Jesus will encourage us, will strengthen us, will support us.
He has and He is and He will.
To all the groups and folks that will visit us this year, we pray that the amazing work of God, the powerful love of Christ, the energetic passion of the Holy Spirit will be revealed in surprising and purposeful ways to you.
Blessings abound, even in this desert.
Matthew
