Life is full and good...

Just got word from the West Coast that my brother's cancer is responding very well to treatment and all things look good. More news awaits the September update, but this first official reading is excellent. I also celebrated a memorial service earlier today - and then taught my little buddy, Ethan, a guitar lesson - and all three events remind me of how full and good most of life is: yes, there is pain and death. At the same time, neither is the end of the story... Not that grief and emptiness are an illusion - I totally disagree with Buddhism on that - for grief brings an unimaginable aching to the body and soul. And pain - be it physical, emotional or spiritual - is equally agonizing.

+ And because so much of the culture is defined by spiritual sentimentality - which is a half-truth (or a lie) - grief and pain are masked, denied and hidden away. If you have been to any memorial service in any Protestant tradition there is always somebody who offers up the poem about "I have not really died..." which is bullshit. Death is real - bodies that are dead are cold - touch one and you'll agree. The deceased are not simply "moving beyond our sight." They are dead and gone - and that emptiness hurts. Often it hurts for a long, long time.

+ Another aspect of our culture asks us to always reference the bottom line: it is the metaphor of the marketplace that tells us there are things to do, money to be made, property to be purchased and deals to be nailed down. This part of American culture doesn't deny grief like sentimentality; rather it puts a time table on it - and a cash clock - and insists that all grieving needs to be done quick so we can move on to things that really matter. Give the grieving a week off - two if they're not paid - and then let's get back to the things that are important.

+ And let's be brutally honest: sometimes there are those who either get trapped - or addicted - to their drama and pain until the wounds are what give them an identity, too. I think of the story of St. Francis who would go from city to city singing. And as some of the beggars and lame and blind heard him, they hid because they knew Francis brought God's healing - and for whatever reason they were not ready to let go of their agony.

Thankfully this memorial service was not sentimental nor market driven: it was simple and beautiful. The family told stories about their mother, I spoke of God's grace amidst the grief and the assurance that grief is not the final story and my colleague shared uplifting music from the great tradition of Christian hymnody. Then we prayed - and sang some more.

From death I went to teach my little 10 year old friend a new guitar lick. His assignment from last week was to work on a 12 bar folk song progression in the key of G - AND - to nail the guitar riff from Roy Orbison's "Pretty Woman." (see above) OMG!!! This little dude rocked my butt of with his riffing - stone cold perfect - I was stunned. So, after a few more pointers on changing chords - and playing his dad's favorite tune, "Margaritaville" - I gave him this week's challenge: turning the riff into the Beatles' "Day Tripper." I know by July 4th he'll have THIS down, too.

This roller coaster - death and life as well as grief and grace - keeps me rooted in the moment. And as the day comes to a close, I am grateful. Tomorrow we'll worship and then I'll join another colleague in helping a local congregation try to discern if they have a future in ministry. They have fallen to about 13 members, so we shall see what the Spirit has in mind, yes?