Why did she die?
repost from my journal - Feb. 2007
I sat there pretending to read wondering if I should talk to them. This was 4 days into the cruise and right or wrong, I was tired of making small talk. These conversation usually started with “hi, I am Ken where are you from” then “have you cruised before” , “what have you done today.” Many times the conversation was just to hard to keep going and it would stop. I just couldn’t talk about the weather anymore. If the person was wanting to talk about something more substantial the dialogue would move into what kind of work did we each do. That would be the killer. Most conversations didn’t get past me revealing my line of work – pastor. Things would get tense around the table. People really didn’t know how to talk to me after that.
Several times during the trip I thought of lying or exaggerating one aspect of my job like counseling, speaking, or writing. Anything to avoid that dead space after my pastoral exposure. It’s funny how when things are bad they want that but when things are casual I am and “out of place” guy. Well I decided not to lie. This is who I am take me or leave me. If you leave I have more to read.
Well I could tell during introductions that the husband was not Russian like his wife. He spoke with a texas accent. He has raised in educated in Lubbock Texas and had a good American name – Ed - nothing international about that. His wife had been in the US for only 10 years. She followed he daughter and son-in-law with their first child to America. She made no mention of he first husband, whether she had lost him to death or divorce. With the talk of kids she inquired about my kids. Ah, the next oddity about me – 9 kids. I looked around and thought how different I am from so many people. She asked me if the government paid me for having so many children? I was confused, was she asking me if I took welfare? If I was living off the government and taking cruises. Surely she was not insulting me. Maybe she didn’t know. She seemed elegant, warm, well educated. If you have a large family in America there is a lot of pressure to prove that you can afford to provide for them and that you aren’t dependent on the government for support. It is irresponsible to have a large family and not be the sole provider at least here in the U S of A. Hasn’t she been hear long enough to know that?
It turned out she wasn’t insulting me at all. She began to continue how in Russia the population is declining. No one is having children. Unlike China where birthrates are being controlled, in Russia the government is encouraging childbirth. They want large families – 250,000 rubbles for each child over 4. If you have 10 kids you get the grand prize – a free house from the government. Be fruitful and multiply. The conversation would continue. I thought maybe I would enjoy this.
I had my “Christ Plays in Ten Thousand Places” book out on the table with my stuff. Ed asked me if I was a theologian. I liked that more than pastor. So I agreed to that quickly. I touted my masters in theology from seminary. He asked if I wrote and I told him of two essays I was thinking of writing, one on the spiritual discipline of hospitality and the other on the resurgence of monastic life in the American church. It sounded way to sophisticated and I knew that I was overstating myself. Sure those things were true but those were the really defining parts of me. I was much more plain than that. So I added, I am a pastor too. (what an understatement). I added that I also directed a one evangelical monastery. Now I had slipped into bragging. The conversation moved on. In a strong Russian accent this elegant woman shared her love for her country, art, and the Russian orthodox expression of church. I replied back with discussion of the ascetics of beauty and how I thought the American church needed to be more open to beauty that did not get forced into categories of secular and Christian. I talked about my brother-in-law leaving in Bosnia (this made me feel international) and how I wanted to visit Europe and would love to see Russia. We talked of mosaic tile work in the Petersburg church, even Ed jumped in. I couldn’t help but feel somewhat like a “wanta be” Then Ed broke me down.
Ed took the conversation in a whole new direction. He abruptly asked me, “what do you preach?” I sat there somewhat stunned. Why was this a hard question? I preach lots of things, I thought. Which one do I say? What was Ed really asking? Was he exposing my exaggerated sophistication or was he wanting to know my theology? Time to be real. Would this internationally traveled couple write me off as some right winged ignorant Christian. I couldn’t believe I was having such turmoil over this simple question. After all I should welcome this chance to testify, this chance to let the real me be know. Ed seemed to ask sincerely enough. I opened my mouth and gave my answer, if this blew my cover – so what. “I am an evangelical Christian – a conservative Christian, I preach having a personal relationship with Jesus. And in that relationship we have forgiveness for our sins. Ed keep looking intently like he wanted more. So I kept going. “God restores us to his design starting now and further into eternity with him. Ed seemed satisfied. I later would discover that he is a very conservative Baptist.
His wife kept looking at me like she didn’t approve of the “gospel” I preached. The desire to be approved came over me. I started adding stuff that I believed about God hand being seen in all things. I was careful to clarify that I did not believe in pantheism. (did she even know what that was, I wondered). I rambled on about true beauty. I was digging myself a whole. I should have just left it alone. I remembered Paul’s words in Roman’s “I am not ashamed of the gospel.” I asked myself if I was ashamed. I don’t’ want to be.
It was Ed who rescued me. He launched into his story. He had grown up catholic. One day a friend gave him a catholic bible and he started reading it. In its reading he gave his life to Christ when he was 22 and started attending a Dutch reformed church. As his life and career moved him he looked for Christ-centered bible believing churches. He had been in Baptist churches most of that time. I asked where he was attending now. He and his wife were attending a Methodist church. Ed added how the preacher could easily be a Baptist. I laughed. Of course he followed it up with a preacher joke. I don’t really enjoy preacher jokes, but I laughed to be polite.
Ed’s wife (I can’t pronounce her name more less spell it) jumped into the conversation again, this time she began to contrast he experience at Ed’s church verses the Russian Orthodox. I asked if the Russian Orthodox was like the Greek Orthodox and filled with beauty and joy. She said, “No no no! In American church all this singing, clapping, and socializing. In Russian church we don’t go to church to sing, socialize and clap we go to pray. We cover ourselves up, stand up the whole service and pray – sometimes for three hours. We pray.” I was disappointed to here that. I was bold enough to even say that. I explained how I appreciated the desire to engage God directly in worship that seemed to be a part of her Russian Orthodox experience, but that I thought God was a God of joy, beauty, and gladness. I added that to know God is to be part of community and that social or community connection was important. I started to get nervous that I was getting preachy but she seemed interested and continued the conversation. She added that people only go to church when things are bad in Russia, not like here when people go to church all the time. She even admitted that she was getting used to all that singing and clapping. We all laughed some. The laughter would not last long. The conversation was about to take a huge turn into a very uncomfortable place. This classy Russian woman was going to challenge me, not with intellect, not as an adversary, but with her pain.
How it happened I don’t remember. It may have been after switch in conversation to world politics and the current state of Russia. All that I do recall is that I made a comment about how she must be glad to be here in American with her family. She said no she was not that he daughter was gone. At first I thought that she meant they had returned to Russia. So I asked how long had it been since they went back. She corrected, no she is dead. Inside I froze. I thought, OK, be pastoral, don’t be shocked, be polite and warm, acknowledge her pain, be present, go slow. I said, “ I am sorry to hear how very sad. (pause) How long ago was it that she passed away?” This beautiful woman had such pain in her eyes. “Seven years, “ she said.
Ed jumped in with the details. In a freak accident on I-95 a van coming in the other direction lost control and flipped over the median and directly into the lane of his step-daughter and killed her instantly. I wondered if I had heard about this story, it sounded familiar, but how would I have heard? I must be blending it into the many other strange unexplainable accidents I have heard reported. No one else was in the car with her. The son-in-law and granddaughter had returned to Russia under the care of his parents. These other side of the family made it very difficult for my new ship friends to see their granddaughter. I felt we had just jumped into the quicksand of conversation. Was there I a way out of this, some way to redeem the sadness that I had been a part of bringing back to the surface. But it jut got deeper and harder. In her Russian accent and great sadness in her eyes she looked directly at me and asked, “tell me Ken why did God do this to my child? I have asked the church of Ed. When visiting in Russia I asked the Russian Orthodox leader same question. Both say I should not ask such a question. So I ask you, why? My heart just broke, not in any measure to hers. She was not arguing with me, She wasn’t angry, she just wanted to know. She was looking for some peace in knowing that there was some reason for this tragedy. Ed looked uncomfortable. I wondered if it was because he was unable to give his wife the comfort that she so longed for.
Now was not the time for a philosophical or theological discussion of evil in this world. Although this was part of the answer it was not what the Russian woman could hear or needed to hear. I started by acknowledging the validity of her question, of her pleading, and of her doubt of God. God was bigger than her doubt and had compassion for those in pain. Ed quoted some scripture to back that up. In fact he did that for the next thirty minutes. I would talk and Ed would back it up with something from the Bible. I had a feeling that they had this conversation with each other before. What could I possibly add? But she kept inquiring of me.
I shared how God tolerated evil things out of his patience and mercy that more would come to relationship with him. That more would be saved. Ed smiled. My answers were not satisfying her, I knew that. I related that if all the bad things were taken away, there would be nothing left because in some way we are all bad. Real justice would mean total destruction. Suffering may not be desirable but it could play a redemptive role in life as well. I shared how I was glad didn’t stop my early evil deeds, especially those done to others, allowing me the time to come to redemption. In other words, the grace we are grateful is the same grace that allows bad things to continue.
They were weakly formed answers. I didn’t doubt their truth at all but I realized I didn’t have a well-formed response that would meet her need. In my quest to dump cliché’ religious statements I had lost the well thought out response to the spontaneous question. I wanted to give an authentic response to an authentic question. I side argument started in my head about how cliché’s are usually true, maybe overused, but true. How could we communicate these truths without being trite. I definitely didn’t want to tell this woman NOT to ask the question. This time is was the Russian woman that rescued me in an odd way. She said, “I have found the answer from the Buddhist not the church.” The conversation was going to continue. Where it would go I didn’t know.
I asked what she had been told. She asked if I knew much about Buddhism, I said, “more than I know about Russian Orthodox.” We all laughed. I was glad for that moment. She told me of Karma and re-incarnation. How each life had a prescribed plan by God and that her daughter had finished her destiny for this life (that god had planned for her to learn) and that she was going to have a better next life. Ed went from uncomfortable to disturbed. He really didn’t like this non Christ-centered talk. I felt more compassion for his wife and wondered if there was something I could offer.
The grieving Russian mother had obviously selected some Buddhist philosophy to mix in with her Christian world view in order to find some peace of mind. I had flashes of anger that the church had shut her quest down and left her to wonder into a hodge-podge of worldview. “Shame on you Church!’ I muttered under my breath. I decided to dig in. I asked, “What brought you the most comfort,” “Was it the purposefulness in her death or the fact of a life after that would better?” Ed didn’t like me going down this path. He started quoting Hebrews, that it is appointed once for man to die and then face judgment. The conversation switched to the two of them hashing out what obviously was an old argument between the two.
I had opened this last door and needed to at least close it and not leave this two at odds. So I asserted myself and asked again. She said that both comforted her. First that god had a plan. I gently stopped her and shard that Buddhism doesn’t believe in a god. It is a philosophy of life that holds to a few spiritual ideas, like Karma and re-incarnation (among others). She said she had discovered that and that was why she still believed in Jesus. She asserted, much to Ed’s resistance, that maybe all religions would one day merge into one. Ed stiffened and declared, that would be the end of the world just as revelation prophesied. I definitely didn’t want to get into an end-times discussion. So I took another chance. At least it felt like a chance to me.
I suggested that these two parts of the peace she found in Buddhism were not distinct ideas to Buddhism but that they were very much Christian ideas found in scripture. Ed relaxed. She looked intently at me to explain, the sadness stirred up deep in her. I became afraid that I would make this all worse for her rather than better. “Why all these bad things?” She inquired again. I continued, “What would concern me is not just what brings me a peace of mind but what is true. As a parent I can tell me kids something that is not true in any sense of the word and it could bring them a season of peace. But what would that peace really be worth? Would it be worth leading them into a false world?”
I immediately thought of my blogging friend, Royale. He is a… skeptic. Maybe that is the best way to describe him. Sometimes sarcastic, sometimes satirical, sometimes cynical, but he always tries to be logical. He hates inconsistencies, especially in Christianity and politics. A lawyer by profession so details always matter. I can hear his rantings about Christians teaching Santa Claus myths and adopting pagan based practices and calling them Christian. About Christians, especially conservative ones, hating abortion but reveling in war and the death penalty. I am sure he will read this at some point so I wonder if this will flatter him or would he think I have miss-represented him.
What would Royale think of this conversation, what would he think of my answers. I wanted his challenges to surface in my mind. In a strange way if I couldn’t relieve this woman’s pain I would like to know that he would agree my answers. I had already decided I would be compelled to blog this whole event. I was moving me far to much for it to be only a passing conversation. Was this a weakness in me wanting to please someone? I must admit it could be.
I looked her (I hope to find her again on the ship and get the full spelling of her name) in the eye and said, “In the long run a true answer serves our grieving more than made up answer.” I could tell she was not convinced yet. I kept moving forward, hoping Ed would just let me finish. “God does let bad things happen, he just does, this to me is obvious. Sometimes we don’t have the perspective or the information to know why something happened. Was it simply and accident or was it the carelessness of another person. Maybe it was a secret evil intent of one that does harm. Whatever the real reason when it is hidden we just don’t know it. I am sure that God knows it but we don’t. We, our loved ones, our families, and our faith is not served well by making up an answer. We have to be willing to let an unknown be an unknown. But that does not mean we are not without a source of peace. First, God did and does have a plan for your daughter.” Ed jumped in with a quote from Jeremiah about God knowing us in the womb. I agreed with him. “Your daughters life had meaning and purpose, death did not snatch her from that purpose.” I was glad she didn’t ask me how I know that. I really didn’t know how I would make that case on the fly. Secondly, there is an afterlife that can be a better place than this life.” I was glad that she didn’t ask me if her daughter was there. My evangelical belief firmly holds that personal trust in Jesus is necessary for that eternal place to be good and only God is the judge of that. I didn’t want to make a judgment, especially on a life I had never known. “Most importantly, I asserted, is that God promises that He will not remove all evil but work all things together for the good for those who love him and are called according to his purpose.” I thought I was going to get an amen from Ed. But he just shifted in his chair and smiled. I became worried again. I didn’t just want to buster his ever-present arguments that failed this woman. I wanted to offer something or someway new for her. A new possibility that would make a place for her pain, affirm a consistent worldview, and of course affirm what I believed to be true, the message of Jesus.
I asked if she knew the story of Joseph in the bible. She said she did. I quoted the famous Old Testament saying, what the enemy meant for evil, God used for good. I shared how I found comfort in that fact that although God allowed many evils to come to pass and that He often left them unchallenged for a long time (longer than I would) that he did not remain silent or still in the lives of those that listen. Earlier this woman had told me how she had begun to paint in blues, greens, and purples. She had never painted before, but that it just opened up. Ed added how talented she was and that after the death it just turned on. I reminded her of this. “For you art and beauty are very valuable, maybe this sudden creativity and inspiration is reminder of their still being good, joy, and contribution in this world – even after your daughter was taken away.” She perked up and like that comment. “God has not abandoned you. Keep asking whatever questions you feel you need, you may or may not find the true answer. So always keep looking for the other truths that come alongside the unknown.” I tried to recount the sage advice of my favorite religion professor, Dr. Blomberg. “When confronted with the unknown, don’t begin by focusing on what you don’t know, go back and remember what you do know. Then armed with some truth turn back to face the unknown with courage. You will be surprised how much what you already know gives order to what you don’t.” I fumbled through the story of Dr. Blomberg. My thoughts returned again to the fact that my answers were so ill-formed. I was frustrated with myself.
I thought of sharing the horrors of sexual abuse that I had experienced and how God overpowered those experiences with His beauty and His joy. But the conversation was just too heavy and a man sharing his sexual abuse is still received in unpredictable ways. I decided that no matter how relevant to the problem of pain my personal story this was not the appropriate place to share it. I was left with one comfort – the Holy Spirit could do whatever necessary with my words. I had seen this before. People walk up to me after a sermon or teaching and share some great insight they had drawn from my talk. I would be gracious and thank them but know inside me that their insight wasn’t the topic of my teaching. They were listening to God, and God spoke. I just created the space. I am praying that she was listening, I don’t care if all I did was create space.
I do have some after-thoughts. First I want to better equipped to answer the complicated questions of life with some basic truths. Secondly, I don’t ever want to be the give answers just to give peace. What brings peace in one moment, if not true, can lead to distorted worldviews. Third, I need to train future leaders to respond graciously. Forth, I need to let my answers be so much about me. My god, how self-centered can I get. The heart of the Christian ethic is to be other-centered. That inner battle can not be abandoned.
Post-Script: I just saw the Russian woman walking down the hall. I stopped her to introduce her to Kathy. Ed was napping back at the room. She still looked sad. I am left with prayer.
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