October 2006

Dear Friends,

Yesterday I put some Halloween decorations out on the dining room table–a couple of pumpkins, a white gauzy ghost, and a candle infused with waxy black bats. Just a few hours later, while stopping by the table to admire my efforts, smiling at my attractively macabre centerpiece, I suddenly became aware of something horribly wrong up above my head. A very real black bat was swirling and swooping around my head, erratically darting from wall to wall. I let out a most unmanly whoop and ducked for the back door, where I opened the screen wide and waited outside for my appropriately seasonal and yet totally unwelcome visitor to make an exit. It settled instead on an inner door jamb and made no effort to leave, while I stood in the chill ready to bolt if it flew near, half wondering whether more unwelcome wraiths would make their way in through the open door while I was waiting for this one to go out. For fifteen minutes I mused on the irony of taking pleasure in playing at the fear of the dark and unknown and then suddenly fleeing in terror into the night when reality comes calling. Eventually, though, I decided that reality had become comfortable perched above my door like Poe’s raven, and wasn’t going anywhere soon, so I grabbed a broom from the garage, snuck in the front door, crept up behind the poor devil and swung. Quoth the preacher, “Nevermore,” as I used my deadly weapon to sweep the lifeless reality outside.

I didn’t want to kill that poor winged rodent. I know that it had no evil intent towards me; it flapped smack up against its own unhappy conflict with reality when it accidentally found itself in my dining room. Perhaps if I had been more patient or more brave, I could have seen a kinder, gentler way out of our unfortunate encounter. But my friends, that sweet little creation of God scared the you-know-what out of me, and I did the best I could under the circumstance.

Life is full of unpleasant events that disturb our comfortable routines. Sometimes they come in a rushing race of tragedy after tragedy, but mostly we’re able to catch a break in between crises to take a breath and try to rebuild the illusion of control in our fragile lives. How do we survive? Ultimately, we must give our control to God, and trust that God will take care of the unknown, and see us through the fearful and painful. That frees us from despair and hopelessness. In fact, if we trust God and God’s loving universe enough, we can move from merely coping to faith, confidence and joy. “The Lord is my light; whom then shall I fear?” sings the Psalmist (Ps.27). At times in our lives we dwell in different places on the spectrum. I have felt myself in the bowels of loss, and I know what it is to move mountains with faith.

Today I’m somewhere in the middle. I’m free from despair, and I am hopeful, but I’m nervous about the unknown, and bats that suck blood for dinner really creep me out. So I will mock my fears and I will make jest of evil, death and devils. I will nervously laugh at the monsters under the bed, and I will eat a LOT of candy on Halloween.

Grace and peace,

Martin