Rhythm of Life: The Spiritual Practice of Shutting UP

Scripture: John 14:27

Peace I leave with you; my peace I give to you. I do not give to you as the world gives.

Do not let your hearts be troubled, and do not let them be afraid.

Jesus shows up in the spaces where folks are struggling and offers peace, peace that is not what the world around him gives.

But we show up in spaces where our neighbors or our loved ones are struggling and we tend to offer crappy cliches or worn out phrases like ‘God has a plan’ or ‘everything happens for a reason’ and” God doesn't give us more than we can handle.” Jesus offers peace and we offer plans, probably because that’s what we want.

I have watched good church folks say some really bad things. When we witness the heartbreak and grief of others, we feel it. When we witness another with the worst news; the new diagnosis, or a loss we can’t imagine, we are easily drawn in, we feel it and then we feel like we have to say something.

I have watched church people say to parents grieving the death of their 18 month old, “Well at least you’re young and can have another baby.” At that same funeral I heard them whisper to each other, “God needed another Angel.”

I have watched good church people tell their neighbors facing the death of a loved one or going through a divorse, “I know exactly how you feel,” even when we just can’t possibly know exactly how someone feels.

I have heard folks say to their neighbors struggling with a cancer diagnosis or another significant medical diagnosis:

You look different. Or Well at least you're losing weight.

It’s probably because you smoked, right you must have smoked.

I’m sure you'll be fine.

Don’t worry. They will find a cure.

I heard X cures cancer.

Something like God has a plan or everything happens for a reason. We start a sentence with well at least….and then end it with something that does not need to be said.

And in almost every case, there is a pause, and it ends with the phrase, “God won’t give you more than you can handle.” And I think… “What…uh…noooooo.”

This plan theology always catches me off guard; it shouldn’t because it is everywhere.

Perhaps I struggle when I hear it because it reminds me of when people said it to me. I was 26, I had been married for five years to my high school sweetheart, and he wanted a divorce. I was heartbroken. It wasn’t my idea, I didn’t want it, it didn’t make sense to me. I cried so much my eyelids were swollen and my lashes were matted down… at least once a day… if not all day. It was a hard moment, and I was pretty sure I would never love again and would live alone, as a shell of myself, and to make matters worse, I didn’t even have a cat. People would listen to my grief and then perhaps, needing to close the conversation, or just tired or just not sure what else to say, they would say things like, “Well at least you are so young,” like that made it easier. Or, “At least you didn’t have kids,” or “At least you didn’t own a home,” and I would think, Right, less paperwork… I guess… I should feel better. And then most conversations would crescendo to a final and resounding, “Well God has a plan for you and you are going to be great.” And I would think, Well if this is God’s plan it is a really bad plan. Later that year, I started seminary and people began to say something like, “Well God just wanted you to go to seminary so He could use you in ministry!” and I could think of about 100 other ways She could have accomplished that goal.

I needed peace but people offered me what I’m going to call plan theology, and there is nothing unusual about that. And it’s not because anyone is trying to be mean or hurtful or unhelpful.

It’s because witnessing heartbreak and loss is hard and when the world feels uncertain we want something solid. We get nervous and then we find ourselves saying the same things that didn’t make us feel any better the time we heard them.

We lean into plan theology because we get nervous sitting with people in those really hard spaces or allowing ourselves to be there, which means we grapple with mortality, grief and heartbreak in ourselves. It makes us aware of our own vulnerability, which we don’t like. We want the unreasonable to have a reason, we want there to be a reason this heartbreak and loss is happening to someone else rather than us. We watch heartbreak and we want there to be a plan, so we don’t have to worry quite so much about how our own lives could change in a moment. Maybe we lean into plan theology because we don’t know what else to say and aren’t quite skilled at just not saying anything at all.

In the New York Times, by Jane Broady, What Not To Say To A Cancer Patient, Dr. Goldberg, a therapist and survivor, "suggests that when visiting a cancer patient, people talk less and listen more. 'Often the greatest support comes from silently witnessing what a person with cancer is experiencing,' he wrote. “Sometimes only a calm presence and compassionate listening are necessary. Silence becomes the breathing space in which people living with cancer can begin difficult conversations.” (https://www.nytimes.com/2016/11/28/well/live/what-not-to-say-to-a-cancer-patient.html)

What if we could work on listening and showing up and taking a deep breath and just being there. Perhaps some replacement phrases would help us get rid of God has a plan or don’t worry it will all be okay.

I don’t know exactly what to say, but please know how much I care.

I’m so sorry this happened to you.

This sucks, I’m so sorry this happened to you.

I am here if you want to talk.

Can I bring you dinner? Can I run an errand for you? Can I take you to your appointment?

Give grace and understanding, don’t make people their diagnosis or struggle. Include them. Remember bodies need rest when struggling for health and mental health, grief and loss.

I wish we as the church could lean a little bit more into peace theology, rather than plan theology. I wish we could shut up, get uncomfortable, and sit with someone in their worry, hurt, pain and anxiety and not say anything about plans, rationalize it, or proclaim we know how they feel. I wonder if we could just be present and listen. Maybe if we listen we will start to hear how the whisper of God's peace is seeded within and begin to notice in these tremendously painful stories a glimpse of that courage or resilience and honor it. Maybe if we are still, we will sense God’s peace and be God’s peace.

As I look back on my journey. I am grateful for every moment of struggle and broken heart, in both my personal and my professional life. Even though I would have rather read a book on some of it, I learned and I grew, and I wouldn’t change a moment of it because I wouldn’t dream of changing where and who I am today. And that also puts me at a vantage point where I could say, “It was all part of God’s plan… see how perfectly it worked out.” But the truth for me is that peace is what brought me through. It was the people who stood by when my eyes were full of tears and just let me cry. It was the people that listened and named the strength and resilience and grace they saw with me when I couldn’t see it myself. Jesus offers us peace and the Spirit that shows up in teachers around us and whispers direction from within. God’s peace is generative and life-giving. It is not a plan and it doesn’t make life easy, but it is a presence that sustains us through grief, brokenness and pain. God’s peace is that resilience that lets us love again, knowing we are strong enough to be vulnerable again. It lets us take risks again with the confidence that we will rise from falling, and it grants courage in new ways to journey down new roads… with or without a plan. “Peace I leave with you; my peace I give to you. I do not give to you as the world gives. Do not let your hearts be troubled, and do not let them be afraid.”

Practice Shutting Up

Practice saying new phrases and remind yourself that listening and sitting alongside someone in their pain and struggle matters.

Center and acknowledge your own grief and vulnerability before you try to be present for another.

Remember why we feel the urge to say God has a plan or start a sentence with Well at least and be ready to stop yourself and center again.