A young couple I know announced their first pregnancy.
A (slightly) older couple celebrated their anniversary.
A friend’s son is hoping to get into an addiction detox center.
Another friend’s younger brother died from complications of a stroke.
I received word of all four events on the same day.
The circle of life.
Birth, anniversary, struggle, death.
I received word of those events in that order, ironically.
The first two were announcements of joy.
New life is a miracle. It happens the same way every time, but it’s still a miracle. One cell becomes two, then four, then … a living, soon-to-be-breathing human being.
I still remember the birth of our first son. I held a camera in my hands to take photos of the new arrival.
I was so in awe of the moment of David’s birth, I froze. The nurse shaped her hands like a camera and pantomimed taking a picture. I snapped out of my reverie and took a few frames.
Our lives changed forever.
New birth does that.
Anniversaries are special, too, as the couple celebrates thriving through the inevitable ups and downs of marriage – hopefully more ups.
Long-lasting marriages tend to stand out in today’s society, don’t they?
Marriage is not easy, and involves plenty of compromises. But if husband and wife are both committed to the relationship, it grows and deepens.
That’s the ideal, anyway.
The second two events were presented as prayer requests.
My friend has prayed for years that her son would overcome his addiction. Apparently, the severe side effects have finally forced him to seek help.
Sometimes we have to hit rock bottom before we can get better.
I’ve thought about that every so often over the years. Do I have to hit rock bottom before my life can truly change? Why else would I ask Jesus Christ to change me, if I didn’t realize I needed changing?
I’ve never had a chemical dependency (except for the caffeine in coffee, I admit it) or faced a crisis for which I see no way out.
Or, have I?
When my family moved out of state before my ninth-grade year, I was afraid. Since I knew no one in my new school on the first day of class, I searched for something or someone to lean on – and found nothing. The following summer, I was introduced to Jesus in a very personal way, and that began a lifelong process of getting to know Him as my Lord as well as my Savior.
In a sense, then, I did hit rock bottom. I reached a point where I knew I needed something I didn’t have. This is not envy or jealousy. No material possession was going to answer my deepest need.
My friend’s son is at that point too, whether he realizes it or not. If he eventually comes clean from his addiction, that would be a wonderful answer to prayer. But then what? How would he fill that vacuum in his life? The answer to that would determine whether he relapses or not.
That’s down the road for him. Life is a process, not a one-time-decision-live-happily-ever-after moment.
Our pastor, in his current sermon series, calls this “discipleship.” It’s the lifelong process of growing ever closer to God after making the decision to follow Him.
We find our purpose in life through that process. The end game is very real, but so is the journey.
Where are we going?
Addictions are extremely difficult to break. You and I both have seen this over and over.
Experience is not always the best teacher. Not all experiences are worth having. Why can’t we learn from the mistakes of others?
Eventually, we all die. It’s inevitable. Our bodies will wear out sooner or later, unless something unforeseen takes our lives suddenly.
Strokes happen to many people, but that doesn’t make it any easier to accept. My father-in-law suffered a heart attack followed by a stroke in his mid-50s that incapacitated him. For a man who owned a business and was a leader in his field, that was a difficult pill for him to swallow. He lived for about 15 years after that.
My friend’s brother survived only a couple of days after his stroke.
Either way, life is not fair, is it?
Every one of us can lament something. Perhaps it’s physical health, a relationship that didn’t work out or is causing us pain, a job loss, family issues … something traumatic and/or something chronic. Each of us can identify something that we’re lamenting.
How do we handle such struggles? With grace and optimism, or with anger and blame?
Do we seek help when necessary? Or do we fight through it, unwilling to even admit our issues? Frequently this is my problem. I am not good at asking for assistance, even though there are a number of people in my life I could turn to if I truly needed them.
But it’s hard to admit need, isn’t it?
Which brings us back to the baby our friends are expecting next summer.
So pure, so beautiful, so dependent … that’s what babies are.
What kind of a world will he or she be born into? Will that baby know joy, or sorrow?
Probably both. The soon-to-be parents know Jesus as their Savior and Lord, so their child will get off to a great start. He or she will be loved and will learn to love in the deepest sense of that word.
As the child grows, he or she will learn the struggles of life, and hopefully how to overcome them.
There will be anniversaries, and eventually death.
The circle of life continues.
Is your circle bright, or is it gray like the rain – or worse, black?
The night is blackest as it nears dawn. Sunrise is coming.
Eventually, the rain will stop, the clouds will disappear and the sun will shine brightly.
In these days of partial sun and plenty of clouds and rain, I’m preparing for full sunshine. Are you?