Wonderings--August 31

Having returned from Ohio, I now sit at my desk and think. My morning walk did little to distract me from serious consideration. . . This was a good weekend, a necessary weekend, and yet one filled with emotion as it ended. 

Driving to Ohio on Friday, through torrents of rain in West Virginia and darkness in Ohio, I could feel the fatigue gripping my mind. I would make it safely to Norwalk, but I knew that a good night's sleep would not fully restore me. This trip was not a vacation but a mission trip.

I did not know what to expect as I walked in Jennifer's childhood house for the first time in over 11 years. But whatever I thought I would experience, I was completely wrong. It was quiet and a bit dark--that was normal. Closing the door, I heard the hum of an oxygen machine vibrating away and I saw Jennifer looking down at her father in his chair with a look of empathy on her face. Emma stood over Jennifer's shoulder and matched her gaze. 

The deep baritone voice of Don Eikleberry was all we heard.

For the next three days we listened to him tell stories. He laughed and cried; we laughed and cried. Then on Monday it was time to go home and so I said good-bye. Don was still with us as left but his health was worsening. 

As of today, he waits to meet his new Savior. As I drove home alone with Jennifer and Emma following me, I wondered about the God who suffers. . . Bonhoeffer, in his Letters and Papers from Prison wrote: 

"The Bible directs us to the powerlessness and suffering of God; only a suffering God can help. For the God of the Bible. . . conquers power and space in the world by his weakness." 

Much has been written over the years wondering if God suffers with us or if God stands above or away from humanity while we suffer. Men and women much smarter than I have debated the issue back and forth and drawn their own well articulated conclusions on the topic. As I drove back to South Carolina, I affirmed that I felt the presence of a 'suffering God"--a God who dwells with us-- in the room. Regardless of how that pain is defined, experienced, or felt, God experiences it with us, I believe.

And because of this fact, I can trace a line of God's presence with my family. As I spoke with Don yesterday and reassured him that Hospice and other services were on the way for him and for Rosie (Jennifer's mother), I knew God was there. I wonder how a "suffering God" might help you and those you love today? 

Blessings