A Big Enough Grace

Yesterday I had Robin Williams on my mind.

I grew up in the LCMS and I was taught that suicide was the ultimate sin and that children and adults who committed suicide went to hell.

As if. . . there was a sin or mistake so large that God's grace couldn't handle it.

As if. . . God wouldn't have time to implement that grace between the moment of death and arrival at the gates.

Sorry, Pastor B., I love you dearly, but I've outgrown that one.

It's not that I'm personally going to miss Robin Williams, though who doesn't like him?  It's that if someone that talented and full of genius can decide their own life and their own gifts are not worth the pain of staying on here. . . then God help us all the normally gifted people.

That's part of it anyway.

My first awareness of suicide was in the fifth grade in Mrs. Paustian's class. The principal came in to get Anne, whose brother was found. Anne left the room with Mr. Fairweather and Mrs. Paustian put her head down on her desk and wept.

Turns out--as if one loss wasn't enough to warrent that grief, Mrs. Paustian had lost her husband that same way.

That's the other part. Every time someone loses from suicide, mental illness, depression, or addiction--it brings to mind everyone who ever suffered. I can't list on fingers and toes the friends and loved ones who have faced these battles. Even those of us who flirt with seasonal depression get sucked in.

Coincidentally, I'm reading a book called "Breathing Under Water, Spirituality and the Twelve Steps" by Richard Rohr.  I've come to wonder if we all don't have our own addictions. Mine doesn't happen to be drugs or alcohol. It might be caffeine, sugar, or stuff. It might just be certain ways I think. I think thinking you are above any addictions might actually be a sub-quadrant of addiction in itself. I don't think anyone is immune.

We all have holes. Holes that need filling up. Some fill them up with heroin and some fill them up by reorganizing the sock drawer over and over. Some of us buy a few too many school supplies. . . those brand new pencils are awfully shiny. . .

But the pencils don't last. And the questions remain. Why does God let these things happen?

That's the final part. The hardest part.

"The evidence is overwhelming that God fully allows and does not stop genocides, the abuse of children, brutal wars, unspeakable human and animal suffering, the imprisonment of the innocent, the sexual enslavement of girls. . . .and the tragic lives of addicts and their codependents. Further, God seems to fully "cause," or at least allow, the natural disasters of drought, flood, . . . mental illness. . . What are we to do with this?"  (Page 120)

Rohr goes on to attempt to explain that the only way through it--is a God who has suffered. That is why "Jesus saves." Jesus suffered. And Jesus loved the people with big holes. Rohr goes as far, I believe, to say that AA is the closest thing we have to a true Christian church, even though most of these meetings are kept in the church basement, far below all the perfect Christians.

This is going on too long. . . mostly because Mary is still sleeping and Calvin is at camp. . . but the biggest question to me is . . how do I fill these holes that come up. What decisions do I make everyday about what to fill up with? Exercise, sleep, music, beauty, sunshine, good foods, doing something for other people. Loving other people. Loving God. I know I'm happiest when I fill up with God's grace.

Little holes might be filled with school supplies, but when the big holes come, the really big holes, God's grace is the only thing big enough. It's a grace big enough for all of us and all our mistakes and all our sins--all the depression and mental illness and addiction is nothing to the grace of God. They are but a live coal in the sea. We just have to keep reminding each other. Over and over and over.

So--to everyone who has lost their beloved and to those filling their holes with the wrong stuff--which is all of us at one time or another--God bless us and keep us and fill us with peace and grace, a grace big enough to fill in even our deepest holes. Over and over and over.