Hope

At the Stop of the World

Modern English made famous a song with these lyrics:

I’ll stop the world and melt with you
You’ve seen the difference and its getting better all the time
There’s nothing you and I won’t do
I’ll stop the world and melt with you.

The notion of these songs is that we want to freeze frame those moments of indescribable pleasure; the moments when it seems that all is right in the world.

On the other side of the spectrum are the moments when it seems right that the world should stop and it doesn’t: the untimely death of a loved one, the genocide of a generation, the heartbreak of a child. In these moments, we marvel at the fact that the world can go on. When it seems that the world should stop and stand aghast at the tragedy, nothing delays the turmoil and nothing delays the ordinariness of the rest of life.

Its in these moments while we are grieving and others are going grocery shopping, when we cry and others are cutting class, that we realize that the fact the world continues as it has for centuries past, and years to come (should Christ tarry) is just another example of the faithfulness of God. God comforts us in our pain, at the same time, He sustains our world when we are unable to fathom anything beyond our own grief. The sun still rises, the oceans crash, and its all a part from our own desire or initiative. Even when we are too consumed with loss to appreciate His good work, His good work remains.

There’s only been once in history where God did stop the world (Isaiah 38:8) and when He did so it was to signal His commitment to a promise. The fact that the world doesn’t stop is also a signal of what a faithful God we serve for in guiding the Earth’s path, He provides for His children. In directing the sun, He is sustaining life. Even when life may seem a little dimmer, His care for us shines through. We may be feel like we are the farthest thing from being on top of the world, and yet His providence never stops.

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Relationships

The Sacrifice of Others

A good friend of mine just voluntarily extended his contract with the Marine Infantry so that he could go to Iraq. As someone who’s been there before and who’s a leader of younger, less-experienced Marines, he felt that he could do some good by going. So he set aside his dreams for his future, and made a commitment to serve. Remarkably, he’s the second person in my immediate circle of friends to do so. The other returned earlier this year from his 4th tour in the war zone.

In reflecting on my friends’ decisions I was both saddened and amazed. Saddened because it is my desire for those I love to be as far away from danger as possible. Amazed because that type of sacrifice is worthy of our applaud. I find applauding the decisions astonishingly more difficult though when you know the people putting their life on the lines. It’s easier to praise when unknown faces are making the sacrifice. When it’s someone you care about, the pride in their character is mitigated by fear. The selfish part of me is quite willing to read about the sacrifice of others in the news, but doesn’t want her friends to do the same. I want them safe, protected, and able to live out their dreams, not in harm’s way where danger lurks.

And I’ve realized that a lot of life is like this. We want people to be remarkable, to willingly sacrifice and to give up their normal life so that we are protected, but most of us don’t want those to be our friends, our sons or our daughters. We can praise courageous acts more easily when the ones who pay the price aren’t those we love. Which makes God’s sacrifice of His son all the more remarkable. Not only did He shed a life for our sins, but the life of His most loved one was given. It wasn’t the sacrifice of an “other”; the sacrifice was His.

If we were to recognize that God’s sacrifice was complete and total, maybe we’d be more willing to sacrifice ourselves. And maybe, just maybe, we’d applaud a little louder when those we love do the same.

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