I would trudge through hell and high water to get to Redeemer. Blinding snow. Tempests. A plague of locusts. Frogs swarming upon land. Anything. But yesterday, as I passed the Ethical Culture Society on Central Park West, I realized that I could literally roll out of bed and head over in my jammies. So I did. (Actually, I put pants on. As an aside, some fashionistas that we saw yesterday while out and about at the Bryant Park Holiday Fair didn't bother wearing any pants. Color me old but I still think pants are useful especially when your dress, er sweater, doesn't cover your booty. Moving on . . .)
Much to my chagrin, my favorite preacher was not preaching this morning; however, the Reverend Scott Sauls gave a great, great, great sermon on suffering. Not about mild suffering like the kind endured when one stays out way too late at The Gingerman and Rattle N Hum with dorm mates from college (hypothetically speaking, of course) but about deep, groaning, life suffering like the kind endured when you repeatedly implore, "Is this it? Really?" and wonder why, when you have so stinkin' much, you are still not happy. And, as we all know, this is one of my favorite subjects.
One of the not-entirely-new analogies given was that of a father holding down his daughter during her first well baby visit at the pediatrician's office. As she's given her shot, she cannot help but feel betrayed by the very man she trusted. But she, at too young an age, cannot know that this pain that she's enduring is ultimately for her health and well being. Likewise, we can feel betrayed by a God who allows suffering or we can strive to be thankful for all the good in the world that we're incapable of seeing or understanding.
As Thanksgiving is this week, I'm choosing the latter. We closed with the hymn, "Now Thank We All Our God" but I'm singing Carly Simon right now.
Til you showed me how, how to fill my heart with love,
how to open up and drink in all that white light pouring down from the heaven
God is amazing.
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