Walking thru the valley

I am reading the new novel by Shauna Singh Baldwin, The Selector of Souls. Like other books of hers that I have read, it is set in India.  It used to be that when I read of India, it was a place solely in my imagination, almost magical and fantastical.  Now, having visited India, the sights and sounds and smells described are so real to me.  The daily struggles of Damini and Anu, the main characters, are so much more poignant having met others whose lives are similarly filled with challenges and yet, lived with grace.

As I travel with Damini and Anu from Delhi to the foothills of the Himalayas, I am struck over and over again by the extent to which their lives are lived in the valleys of life, struggling with the effects of illness, poverty, abuse and powerlessness.  They rarely exercise any control over their circumstances.  Yet they struggle onward, with a sense of purpose and remarkably, with optimism.

This spirit, this hopefulness is something I saw in those I met in India.  Over and over I witnessed the strength that comes from hope.  I was introduced to people whose lives were the definition of resilience and I was left humbled by these encounters.

I have been thinking lately about the words of David in the classic 23rd Psalm:

23 The Lord is my shepherd;
I shall not want.

² He makes me to lie down in green pastures;
He leads me beside the still waters.

³ He restores my soul;
He leads me in the paths of righteousness
For His name’s sake.

⁴ Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death,
I will fear no evil;
For You are with me;
Your rod and Your staff, they comfort me.

The words of verse 4 have been rolling around my brain:  “Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil; For You are with me….” This is a passage I think of when trying to work my way through grieving the loss of a loved one.  It is a passage that has brought me comfort in times of great sorrow.

This morning, it occurred to me that the passage doesn’t say, “…though I sometimes walk through the valley” and that,  maybe walking through the valley of the shadow of death is actually part of our ordinary, everyday existence.  Maybe we are always walking in that valley.  It certainly seems to be the way it is for people in the slums and countryside of India.

We in Western society have managed, with great success, to excise death and the effects of illness from most of our lives, or at least, to live under the illusion that we have done so.  When death comes near, we are often shocked, as though it is not an ordinary part of human existence.  The struggles associated with disease and injury to our bodies bring us literally and figuratively, to our knees.  We cry out for mercy.  We ask, Why me?  We plead for relief.

We often live our lives in fear of death though it is necessary a part of living, failing to fully place our hope in the God who walks with us through the darkest valleys and find our comfort in His presence.

How then shall we live?  In the article Living With Dying (February 2, 2013 Winnipeg Free Press), the author notes that a friend of his lives in a Northern community where death comes frequently.  He says of his friend:

I think death’s constant presence has made him the most ‘in the moment’ person I know. Whenever I need advice on a tough problem, he is among the first I call.

It seems that at best, death is a present reminder of the power of your life and the life of those you love. I observe that those who have confronted death with frequency, approach their lives with purpose and a constant sense of possibility.

That sounds like a good place to start.

Faith, hope & charity (Part 2)

(Continuing on the theme of my first work-in-progress presentation for the Far Corners Women’s Conferences to be delivered in March)

The story of Abraham and Sarah, and the birth of their son Isaac is the story of how God established his Covenant, or promise, with His people.  It is a story of joy and hope.  It tells us how something that seems impossible is made possible by God.

Sarah laughed to herself when she heard the promise.  God responded to her laughter with the question that we all must ask ourselves sometimes:  Is anything too hard for the LORD?

In my experience, the answer to that question is always no.   But sometimes it takes an awful lot of endurance to maintain your hope in the promise.

The Apostle Paul, in his letter to Romans, Chapter 5 – after he tells of how Abraham and Sarah were considered righteous because of their faith in God’s promise – says this about the source of hope:

¹ Therefore, having been justified by faith, we have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ, ² through whom also we have access by faith into this grace in which we stand, and rejoice in hope of the glory of God. ³ And not only that, but we also glory in tribulations, knowing that tribulation produces perseverance; ⁴ and perseverance, character; and character, hope. ⁵ Now hope does not disappoint, because the love of God has been poured out in our hearts by the Holy Spirit who was given to us.

The story of Sarah and Abraham is a story of God’s faithfulness to those who believe in His promises.  He doesn’t promise us that we will get all we desire.  He doesn’t promise us an easy life or a life without grief.  But He promises us that we can have peace through faith in Jesus and that we can hope in the Glory of God.

And He promises us the Holy Spirit within us to give us power and strength and comfort to face the suffering and trials of life.  And that through those experiences, we can find and renew our hope.  What a wonderful promise.  What a wonderful God.

Faith, hope & charity (Part 1)

When I was a girl I had a charm bracelet that I’d received as a Christmas gift from my parents. One of the first charms I received for that bracelet was a charm of a cross, an anchor and a heart – representing faith (cross), hope (anchor) and charity/love (heart.)

The trio served as a visual reminder of the words of Paul in 1 Corinthians 13 (the love chapter):

And now abide, faith, hope and love, these three; but the greatest of these is love.

I’m thinking of this charm as I prepare my presentations for the conferences in India. My opening talk will focus on Sarah who with her husband Abraham are the “parents” of faith in the Bible. Despite their age and history and the total impossibility of the whole idea, they believed that God would somehow fulfil his promise that their descendants would number as the stars. They were both pushing 100 and had not managed to produce a child to that point. The whole plan was so ridiculous Sarah laughed out loud when she heard it.

But still they believed and hoped and ultimately the promise was fulfilled with the birth of Isaac. And their faith was counted to them as righteousness. (Romans 4:13-22 ). Amazing isn’t it?

Bulembu, Swaziland

 This video by Vancouver band Spirit of the West breaks my heart, yet somehow the voices of the orphan children and their faces give me hope.  Watch it.  You’ll love the song, I am sure.  Buy the song on iTunes – all proceeds are going to Bulembu International.

A Fine Balance

“You see, we cannot draw lines and compartments and refuse to budge beyond them. Sometimes you have to use your failures as stepping-stones to success. You have to maintain a fine balance between hope and despair.’ He paused, considering what he had just said. ‘Yes’, he repeated. ‘In the end, it’s all a question of balance.” 

These words written by Rohinton Mistry struck a chord with me when I first read them more than ten years ago.  What I didn’t know at that time was that in the years to follow, my life would take me down the road from hope to despair and back again, and that whether I could find a balance between these two extremes would determine the rest of my life.  But that is another story…

When I first read it, I thought A Fine Balance was the best thing I had ever read; and even today, it remains among my favourite reads ever.  When I read this story about the poorest of the poor, I fell in love with their India.  This was a love that sprouted earlier in my life reading the British Empire stories of EM Forster, and others and that has since been fed with more works of fiction by Rohinton Mistry, Kiran Desai, Yann Martel, Shilpi Somaya Gowda and many others.

And now I find myself planning to travel to India next March.  I couldn’t be more thrilled.  And scared.

I am going to India in search of a different kind of balance than I have sought before.  This time I am seeking a more spiritual kind of balance that will help me to live contented with myself and my circumstances, balancing the priorities, goals and obligations of the external life with the need I feel to focus more energy on the priorities of the spirit, allowing time for contemplation, rest and worship.