Originally published in The Atlanta Journal-Constitution, July 21, 2001.
There are times in life, even for the most faithful people, when faith is tested to the limit, times when we are called to bear a weight so great we fear our faith in a loving God will break. My time has not yet come. But such a time came recently for people I know --- the Kelley family --- when their son climbed to the top of a crane and hanged himself after nearly 24 hours suspended between life and death.
The newspapers told us he was carrying a Bible. I know for a fact he came from a family where faith was a part of daily life. He was not a bad person but a sick person. It should not have ended this way. But it did. So what are we to make of it? How do we continue to believe? Faith teaches us that in God all shall be well, that when we pray, God listens. All was not well that day.
Those of us who knew the Kelleys watched and prayed throughout that day. We prayed and waited. And waited. And waited. Finally we went to bed, with Michael on our hearts and prayers freshly said on our lips: "Keep him safe. Bring him home." But when morning came, we learned that Michael would not be coming home; he had made the choice to die. Thank God the papers didn't print the pictures, but we could not keep from seeing in our mind's eye his lifeless body swinging in the night.
The God who is with us
At the funeral Mass on Monday, the priest who gave the homily spoke forcefully about the God who is with us in our pain and the great gift our faith can be when life as we know it collapses. He spoke of Mary, the mother of Jesus, and how she would be with this family in a special way now. For she too had watched her son die a horrible death, a death that should not have been, with crowds of people looking on, some even looking forward to the show.
He didn't say God would make it all OK. He did say faith calls us to trust --- to trust that we will be comforted, that we will be held up while we make our way to a place where we can live again.
I used to believe that if I went to church and said my prayers and obeyed all the rules, I could trust God to spare me from the worst life had to offer. It was a kind of State Farm theology: God was prepared to protect me if I paid a proper premium. That understanding can't hold up now, not under these circumstances.
Linda Kelley is a member of my church. She and I were in a small faith community together. I saw her as someone who loved God and took seriously her spiritual life. In her work as a school psychologist she was dedicated to helping improve the lives of troubled kids. On a scale of one to 10 she held high marks for faithfulness. Surely God heard the prayers of this mother's heart. So why did it end this way?
Kindness along the way
It stayed with me, what the priest said. He spoke not of a mighty God who controlled all things from on high, but of a tender, loving God who lived among us, a God who stood with the family in their grief, shared the anguish of their loss, a God who was working to bring healing out of pain, new life from a great loss.
The day of the funeral I saw God present through people like you and me --- priests, parishioners, friends, members of the police force --- all gathered simply to be with the family. As I watched the care and kindness, I thought, we can't bring Michael back but we can stand with Linda and her family while they struggle to bear it. We can cry. And cook. And listen when she is able to speak. And go to her when she opens her arms. We can offer her a shelter while she heals, a place to bend and grieve and wait for the passing of time.
Faith tells us Michael is finally at peace in God. The community shows us that God is at work in our midst, binding our wounds, helping us bear the burdens, bringing us slowly back from death to life.
There are times in life, even for the most faithful people, when faith is tested to the limit, times when we are called to bear a weight so great we fear our faith in a loving God will break. My time has not yet come. But such a time came recently for people I know --- the Kelley family --- when their son climbed to the top of a crane and hanged himself after nearly 24 hours suspended between life and death.
The newspapers told us he was carrying a Bible. I know for a fact he came from a family where faith was a part of daily life. He was not a bad person but a sick person. It should not have ended this way. But it did. So what are we to make of it? How do we continue to believe? Faith teaches us that in God all shall be well, that when we pray, God listens. All was not well that day.
Those of us who knew the Kelleys watched and prayed throughout that day. We prayed and waited. And waited. And waited. Finally we went to bed, with Michael on our hearts and prayers freshly said on our lips: "Keep him safe. Bring him home." But when morning came, we learned that Michael would not be coming home; he had made the choice to die. Thank God the papers didn't print the pictures, but we could not keep from seeing in our mind's eye his lifeless body swinging in the night.
The God who is with us
At the funeral Mass on Monday, the priest who gave the homily spoke forcefully about the God who is with us in our pain and the great gift our faith can be when life as we know it collapses. He spoke of Mary, the mother of Jesus, and how she would be with this family in a special way now. For she too had watched her son die a horrible death, a death that should not have been, with crowds of people looking on, some even looking forward to the show.
He didn't say God would make it all OK. He did say faith calls us to trust --- to trust that we will be comforted, that we will be held up while we make our way to a place where we can live again.
I used to believe that if I went to church and said my prayers and obeyed all the rules, I could trust God to spare me from the worst life had to offer. It was a kind of State Farm theology: God was prepared to protect me if I paid a proper premium. That understanding can't hold up now, not under these circumstances.
Linda Kelley is a member of my church. She and I were in a small faith community together. I saw her as someone who loved God and took seriously her spiritual life. In her work as a school psychologist she was dedicated to helping improve the lives of troubled kids. On a scale of one to 10 she held high marks for faithfulness. Surely God heard the prayers of this mother's heart. So why did it end this way?
Kindness along the way
It stayed with me, what the priest said. He spoke not of a mighty God who controlled all things from on high, but of a tender, loving God who lived among us, a God who stood with the family in their grief, shared the anguish of their loss, a God who was working to bring healing out of pain, new life from a great loss.
The day of the funeral I saw God present through people like you and me --- priests, parishioners, friends, members of the police force --- all gathered simply to be with the family. As I watched the care and kindness, I thought, we can't bring Michael back but we can stand with Linda and her family while they struggle to bear it. We can cry. And cook. And listen when she is able to speak. And go to her when she opens her arms. We can offer her a shelter while she heals, a place to bend and grieve and wait for the passing of time.
Faith tells us Michael is finally at peace in God. The community shows us that God is at work in our midst, binding our wounds, helping us bear the burdens, bringing us slowly back from death to life.