the susie solution

When I was a college student at Seattle Pacific University back in ’80-’81, I was part of a small group of friends who hung out a lot. We did a weekly Bible study together, and one of my favorite parts of that time was singing. April would play her little three-quarter sized guitar, and we’d sing one song after another. We sang John Fischer songs. “Love Him in the morning when you see the sun a-risin’…” We sang a lot of Keith Green. Second Chapter of Acts, Phil Keagy, Larry Norman. All the usual suspects of the day. (And all of whom I still listen to!) My favorites were always the Scripture ones. I have a little notebook where I have them all handwritten with their chords, although I don’t need the book for just singing them. I love it when I’m reading through the Bible in the course of my daily reading and suddenly find myself singing what I’m reading. It is a tragedy that actual Scripture songs – the “psalms” of Paul’s exhortation to “speak to one another in psalms, hymns, and spiritual songs” – are by and large no longer sung – not even in church services or Sunday schools.

Anyway, I still sing the songs for my own pleasure and blessing. Some of the songs, of course, have extra special meaning. “When I am afraid, I will trust in You, I will trust in You, I will trust in You/When I am afraid I will trust in You, in God Whose Word I praise” is a favorite for times of fear, and I used to sing it to my little ones after a bad dream. “Peace give I to thee/Peace give I to thee/Not as the world gives, give I to thee/Peace give I to thee” is one I often use singing myself to sleep. (I sometimes substitute the word “sleep” for peace; I don’t think He minds, as they bear a certain similarity in meaning.) One of my favorites for comfort comes from Lamentations 3:22-23. (You can find several versions of it on youtube. The Maranatha singers one is reasonably well done.)

“The steadfast love of the Lord never ceases/His mercies never come to an end/
They are new every morning, new every morning/
Great is Thy faithfulness, O God/Great is Thy faithfulness.”

That’s what we often say of my dad’s death. He died of a massive, unheralded heart attack back in 1991. I said something to the coroner about how at least I hoped he hadn’t suffered too much. The coroner said, “Oh, no. He didn’t even know he’d been hit! One second he was here; he blinked; and he was at the pearly gate, wondering how he got there.” That’s the kind of death Daddy always prayed for. It was hard on the rest of us not getting to say good-bye, of course, hardest on those far away who hadn’t seen him for some time. All those last times that we didn’t know were the last, so we didn’t savor them as we would have and wish we had. But for Daddy himself, we were thankful. We said it was a mercy.

My mother’s cancer is claiming more and more of her now, requiring more and more medication to try to keep her comfortable – and even safe. She gets so restless that she will pace until she is staggering if not given enough sedative to knock her out. She hates it. She hates taking all these pills, and she often blames the pills for her problems rather than her disease. But it IS the disease, sapping her strength, stealing her mind, distorting her senses, super-charging her emotions. I believe there are still a very few in the circle still praying for a healing miracle (what for I don’t know – why wish her to stay HERE rather than go to Heaven?) The vast majority of us, including Mama herself, pray every night that she won’t be here in the morning. We say, “It would be a mercy.”

My sister’s mother-in-love has severe dementia. It’s not my story, so I’ll give no details, but it’s not so different from that of the millions of other families dealing with what is called the living death of dementia. My dad’s older brother died of Alzheimers, the younger is dying of it. The details of the stories differ, but the plot’s the same. We all shudder at the thought of ending up there ourselves, losing ourselves a piece at a time, knowing we’re losing it and unable to do anything about it, until finally the day may come when we’ve lost so much we don’t even remember that we’ve lost anything. I’ve told my sister many times that I’d rather go through what I’m going through with our mother than what my sister is going through with her dear mother-in-love.

Lately, though, I’ve realized that that’s really a skewed perspective. There are not gradations to God’s mercy. He was not most merciful to Daddy, less so to Mama, and being least of all so to Barb. Either His mercy is the same for all, or He is cruel. Either His love is steadfast for all, or He is indifferent. Either He is faithful, or He is capricious and untrustworthy. We accept all three attributes as equally true across all times and all situations, or we reject them all together. They’re a package deal.

There will be times of emotional turmoil when we will cry out, “Lord, I believe! Help Thou my unbelief!”, and in His forbearance and tender-hearted mercy, He will do just that, but at some point we have to face the question of whether we will choose to trust God’s mercy or not. He doesn’t OWE us any explanations for His actions. If you think He does, then you have set yourself up as HIS judge, which is a pretty ludicrous place to be. Even if He were to give us a full explanation, our finite minds are not capable of understanding His infinite reasons. Occasionally He may give us a glimpse, but if we predicate our trust on God defending Himself to us, then we don’t actually trust Him at all. We believe God is merciful because He says He is, or we believe Him to be a liar.

No, God is being just as merciful to Barb now as He was to my dad then. God will be just as merciful to Mama whether He takes her Home tonight, or she has to endure weeks more of suffering. His purpose for Mama and for Barb is just as Good and Righteous as His purpose was for my dad. His presence with their spirit is just as real whether their mind knows it or not. Our spirit is given us at the moment of conception, long before there is a cognitive mind to comprehend anything about the world. (Remember how John the Baptist leapt for joy in utero at the presence of the Lord, also in utero?) Our spirit endures as long as we have the breath of life, whether our cognitive mind comprehends anything around us or not. Barb’s spirit is still alive and well inside her crumbling frame, and God is still working on perfecting her, conforming her to the image of His Son. We cannot SEE this, yet God’s Word tells us that that IS God’s purpose for us in this life; Scripture doesn’t contain an exception clause, “…. Unless something happens to your mind or body to screw you up.”

Suffering is a result of sin being in the world; it wasn’t God’s idea. Yet somehow in His divine Providence, He still causes all things, even our suffering, to bend to the task of accomplishing His purpose for the good of those who love Him. What my mom is going through, what Barb is going through, what all those around them are going through because THEY are going through what they’re going through (got all those antecedents?) is all – ALL – consistent with God’s love, His mercy, and His faithfulness.

If Mama is not here in the morning, it will be a mercy. If she is here in the morning? It will be a mercy. His mercies are new EVERY morning. Great is Thy faithfulness, O God! Great is Thy faithfulness.