Gnawing on a bone

When we moved back "home" in February after our horrible experience at our last (and, so far, final) church, neither Don nor I wanted to step foot in another church ... at least not for a long, long time. When you're beaten up by "the church," it feels almost impossible to go back. If we didn't have kids, we would not have undertaken "church shopping" right away as we did. But we had a son who had grown terrified of church, who became very wary of church leaders, identifying them as people who hurt you, and the last thing that we as parents could ever do would be to further foster those fears in him. I guess we embraced a sort of "get back up on the horse" mentality when it came to church, and finding a church for our family.

On our first Sunday here, we went to my home church with my parents, although we immediately recognized that it was no longer "my home church" as I -- and it -- had changed in the years of my absence. No matter. But ironically one of the first songs that came onto the screen was one that I was not familiar with at the time -- "Blessed Be Your Name" by Matt Redman, a worship leader in England who, to his credit, pops out some credible Christian contemporary music (I'm not always the biggest fan of CCM ...). As the congregation began to sing and my eyes roved over the words, I thought I was going to have a convulsion. This truly was probably the worst song -- the most difficult -- to sing after what we had lived through ... yet it was also the very song that I probably needed to start singing ...

Blessed Be Your Name
In the land that is plentiful
Where Your streams of abundance flow
Blessed be Your Name

Blessed Be Your Name
When I'm found in the desert place
Though I walk through the wilderness
Blessed Be Your Name

Every blessing You pour out
I'll turn back to praise
When the darkness closes in, Lord
Still I will say

Blessed be the name of the Lord
Blessed be Your name
Blessed be the name of the Lord
Blessed be Your glorious name

Blessed be Your Name
When the sun's shining down on me
When the world's 'all as it should be'
Blessed be Your Name

Blessed be Your Name
On the road marked with suffering
Though there's pain in the offering
Blessed be Your Name

Every blessing You pour out
I'll turn back to praise
When the darkness closes in, Lord
Still I will say

Blessed be the name of the Lord
Blessed be Your Name
Blessed be the name of the Lord
Blessed be Your glorious Name

You give and take away
You give and take away
My heart will choose to say
Lord, blessed be Your Name

OK, that's extremely long, I know ... but those words! On that first Sunday back I could not sing that song. I stood there stony, silent, fighting tears. The next Sunday we visited another local church, stayed put, and on the second or third Sunday there this same song presented itself ... and I still couldn't sing it. It took months before I could even open my mouth and try to sing it. But those words haunted me, and still do.

Yesterday I ran around the house like a Housewife Banshee to clean and scour my home, taking advantage of my solitary state while Don took the kids to Lowe's for the purchase of new tools for his new job. Don is now a member of our church's praise band, and he was given three CDs of our church's music repertoire. I decided to put on one of those CDs, singing at the top of my lungs while I washed and scrubbed various disgusting surfaces, wishing that God's grace would wash away not only sin but grimy window sills to boot. As I was disinfecting the toilet seat, I was temporarily immobilized as this very same song came on. I paused in my cleaning, went into the living room, and was compelled to not only listen -- really listen -- to the song, but sing as well. And I thought a lot about God.

Blessed be the Name of the Lord ... when things are fine, when we've been blessed, when we're healthy. That's easy.

But we're also called to Bless the Name of God when things fall apart. When you're abused. When you're beaten up and bullied. When your health fails. When wave after wave after wave of misery hits you and you feel that you can't keep your head above it all for another second. When the journey's trail leads you through a very dark and scary forest, "still I will say." While it's OK to ask all the "why?" questions you can think of, while it's OK to beat upon the huge chest of God with clenched fists and drenching His front with your tears, in the end ... in the end ... you need to stay. You Bless the Name of God.

"You give and take away ..." Those few words hit me like a theological sledgehammer. I have spent a great deal of time looking back at the mess, trying to figure out what God was doing, to find some purpose and some meaning in what we went through. But maybe, just maybe ... am I wrong in doing that? Maybe "wrong" isn't the right word -- but what if I looked at it differently? God gave ... and God took away. Is it as simple as that? Did God give us a calling to ministry ... and then did God take it away? Did he give us a beautiful home (granted, it was a parsonage, but it was still our home) ... and then did God take it away? Maybe it's not my place -- and certainly not my job -- to figure it all out. God gave and God took away ... and my response? "Lord, blessed be Your Name."

Wow. That's a big bone to chew on. I'm tearing up the soft insides of my mouth as I gnaw, but I think I need to get this. I know I need to get this. But man, it's hard ...