Are you feeling broken over the suffering we see all around us? It is heavy on my heart as I reflect on the domestic and global drama unfolding before our eyes. You name it, Gaza, Ukraine, political and public violence, broken government structures, human greed…the list goes on.
Though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death . . . I have fear. Is that how it goes? Brokenness is hard to embrace. It is hard to live in the shadows of my personal pain, the pain of others and brokenness all around. Shadows represent darkness, uncertainty, evil and often pain. Despair is often associated with these shadows. I fear living in the shadow of death. Perhaps this is not the best way to start a conversation on brokenness, but the reality is, brokenness is not something we often seek out intentionally.
After almost seven years of working with street-living children and youth I flew back to Pasadena, California to begin a doctoral program. I was exhausted. Most days I sat near the playground where my children would play in the apartment complex where we lived. Neighbors, who were from around the world, would often ask, “do you not have anything to do today?” The reality is, I had tons to do, I was beginning a doctoral program and was slammed with assignments and due dates, but I wasn’t in a position to really accomplish anything. Our marriage had taken a beating from challenges of living in a very dangerous city, compressed schedules that were taxing and I was resting from both our accomplishments and failures.
Death happens in more ways than one. The shadow of death is a shadow that is represented both figuratively and literally. Learning to sit in the brokenness without allowing it to overwhelm me is something that I have seen glimpses of, but certainly have not learned to embrace. I’m still working on that.
After several years of academic work, and some healing, I had the opportunity to return to the city I both loved and despised. After wrapping up some trainings I had a day to spare before flying back to Pasadena, so I decided to go for a walk back to those familiar streets – Saint Augustine is known for saying Solvitur Ambulando (It will be solved through walking) – so there I went, seeking to solve my despair. I revisited the city streets where we spent most days conversing with kids and encouraging them to pursue healthier lifestyles and decisions. Each spot I came to reminded me of a story, a life or a scare I once had. Unjust policies that came to bear on the vulnerable was a frequent reality. I came across the corner where my friend and director was arrested from telling the local police to stop kicking a boy. I came across the restaurant where the owner told one of the kids that he should find some poison and drink it. I came across the high-rise building where children would huddle under covering to stay warm, sniff glue and get some sleep. I visited the site where I first made contact with a group of kids on the street when I was an intern back in college. Over and over, I reminisced about our work on those city streets, but I still didn’t see what I was hoping to find – looking for God in a violent city can be hard at times. Looking for God in a broken world is just as hard.
“Wait, is that God?”
I stood and watched a group of kids, no older than 12, trying to enter a McDonald’s to beg, find left over food or who knows what. Just as they crossed the entry way heading into the fast-food restaurant a guard stepped in the way to block their path. As I watched from a distance I was immediately reminded of these types of confrontations in the past and the perplexity I would feel about what to do. As I sat back watching I saw the guard gesture to the kids to stay put and wait. “What was he going to do,” I wondered? A few minutes later he came out with a handful of hamburgers, whispered something to the kids and passed them out. I stood in shock. Had I spent so much time over the years reflecting on the pain and the injustices that I had lost the ability to see the hope? To see the generosity? To see God show up? I kept walking. A few blocks away I spotted a familiar face. Wait, that can’t be! But it was. The first thing I had noticed was that José had put on a lot of weight. He smiled and said in a loud voice, “Gregorio” and came over and gave me a hug. I was in shock. The last time I saw José he was high and appeared lost in a different world. From behind the ice cream counter where he now worked scooping up ice cream, he began to tell me a story. The owner of the ice cream stand had taken him in and helped him he said. “Wait, what? All I could remember were the horrendous run-ins I had over the years with local business owners in this same area. God shows up sometimes in the least expected ways. I said goodbye for the last time and continued on down the pedestrian walkway. I came to another spot where one of the first young boys I ever met in that city use to spend much time sleeping, sniffing glue and causing great mischief. Remembering the day he was desperate, sick and asking us to get him off the streets, I thought about how the years had passed and the transformation that had taken place in that young person (married, with a beautiful family, these days he can be found directing a wing of the very organization I use to work with). Other signs of hope hit me that day. Where despair seeks to command our attention, hope reminds us of the healing that comes through the brokenness.
Walter Brueggemann says, if we want “to engage in glad, risky, missional work, then it must be unfrozen from our habitual denial and despair that are the currency of our dominant narrative.” Was this what was happening in me as I revisited those streets?
Disconnecting despair in our brokenness is critical in today’s world. Finding signs of hope will release us to hope again. Brueggemann goes onto say, “There can be no resurrection if there is no crucifixion. There is no genuine praise if there has been no honest lament, protest, and complaint.” So complain away, lament away and certainly protest the reasons that lead to our brokenness, but remember to look for the signs of hope in the midst of that brokenness, for God is present in it. As we look around our communities and globe, where do we see goodness, justice and shalom?
God shows up in the midst of these narratives we tend to create from the brokenness we both witness and experience. Brokenness is still something I fear, but I now realize (on some days) that the Creator is present.
Though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death . . . I am learning not to fear the anguish of brokenness in those dark valleys. I still don’t enjoy the shadows in this life, but recognizing that some of the suffering we experience and witness today needs to be balanced with the goodness we see around us too. Breaking the cycle of despair in my brokenness is a life-long pursuit for me, but one that I refuse to give up on.
References
Development and Justice 