Into Your Hands, I Commit My Spirit by Kimberly McHugh [Retrieve Lament 2020]
“Once, ritual lament would have been chanted; women would have been paid to beat their breasts and howl for you all night, when all is silent. / Where can we find such customs now? So many have long since disappeared or been disowned. /
That’s what you had to come for: to retrieve the lament that we omitted.”
Holy or Silent Saturday may be the most important day in the church calendar to help us recognize what it means to live in the already-but-not-yet kingdom of Jesus. Jesus has already conquered death, but we haven’t - not yet. We still die. Our dreams, our loved ones, our relationships all face the threat of death. We know that death does not have the last word, but until Jesus comes and calls us from our graves, death tramples our hearts and homes with a vengeance. Today, this Silent Saturday, I invite you into one last Lenten fast. Would you set aside some time to sit with the mourners hiding in Jerusalem after putting Jesus’ body into the grave?
It helps me to enter the account of Jesus’ death and burial by entering the stories of those who’ve written lament here over the past eight years. The Jewish custom of sitting shiva to mourn a family member’s death could be instructive for us today. Will you sit with me and help retrieve the lament that’s been omitted?
We've spent the week revisiting lament posts from previous years, and I'm grateful to one new contributor for this year. I haven’t been able to meet today’s guest in person yet, but I’ve had the privilege to get to know Kim from what seems simultaneously a long distance and as close as my dining room table. Through the goodness of technology and the Holy Spirit of God who binds our hearts together, we light candles two continents apart and listen together in silence, prayer, and story for God’s voice. Kim follows after the heart of God even when God’s voice seems distant.
Would you read Kim’s story with me, and listen with an open heart for any words Christ might be speaking to you?
““It was now about the sixth hour, and there was darkness over the whole land until the ninth hour, while the sun’s light failed. And the curtain of the temple was torn in two. Then Jesus, calling out with a loud voice, said, “Father, into your hands I commit my spirit!” And having said this he breathed his last. Now when the centurion saw what had taken place, he praised God, saying, “Certainly this man was innocent!” And all the crowds that had assembled for this spectacle, when they saw what had taken place, returned home beating their breasts. And all his acquaintances and the women who had followed him from Galilee stood at a distance watching these things.””
Retrieve Lament
by Kim McHugh
Soon after my grandson’s birth, it became known that he was born with a heart defect, and he was in critical condition. I was living in Turkey and my daughter had just given birth in the US. I quickly got on a plane, not knowing if he’d be alive when I arrived. My greatest fear at that point, the thing I kept picturing was standing beside my daughter as she buried her child. How could I possibly do it? I prayed and cried and begged God to let this little baby live. At some point, I realized that God could save my grandson, or He could decide to let him die. He had the power to do either, and He would decide, based on His character and His best for each of us, and for His own glory. He would do what He would do, and all would be well. He would be sovereign, and He would be good. It was quite the epiphany.
My grandson lived; he lived for 6 ½ years. We got to know him and love him deeply. I spent many hours leaning over a hospital bed, watching him, and praying for him. We exchanged goofy face pics and sweet voice messages from long distances. He called me Nana, and I can still hear his voice saying, Naa naaa’, in his slightly reproachful tone and grinning face, in response to something silly I did. I wear a shirt he loved because it has rhinestones and sequin embroidery and I can still feel his hands tracing the letters of “Istanbul” on my shirt. And then, quite suddenly Yahya died. I stood by my daughter’s side as she and her husband buried his ashes.
Two weeks after he died, I found myself alone at my mom’s cabin on a stream, on the edge of the Smoky Mountains. I was devastated and I felt so alone. I was so disappointed in God because I had this idea that I would be carried along by “the peace that passes all understanding”, but I most certainly wasn’t feeling that. My jaws ached from grinding my teeth, I couldn’t stop crying, my digestive system was a mess, and my nerves were raw. I thought a solitary hike would help me draw close to God and get me on the road to processing the deep loss. It was a densely foggy day in the Smoky Mountains and I couldn’t see more than six feet in front of me as I walked the trail. I was afraid and as a man passed me with his dog, I thought…he could rape and kill me right now. I thought: I can pray, but God could decide to let him kill me. I became frantic and more afraid and ran uphill for the next ten minutes.
Later I sat on a rock and journaled for an hour. That time on the plane, in the first days of Yahya’s life came back to me. I did not want to have to acknowledge that epiphany. God’s character could not have changed, He was and is in control, and He was and is good. I just wasn’t feeling it, though deep down I knew it to be true. I told God then, yes, I know that is where I will end up through this grieving, but I am not there yet. I sensed Him say to me with gentleness, “okay.”
Six months later, I am feeling pretty empty, lost. I can identify with four of the last words of Christ. I stumbled on some writings about the “wall” or “dark night of the soul” and that is where I am. Could this be what true thirst is? My reading tells me it’s the point where it feels like your faith doesn’t work anymore, you’re hurt and sad, and you say, “O God, why have you forsaken me?”
Where is that peace that passes understanding, where are you, God? And I long for what ancients say can come after the wall: to know God’s sweetness and love, to have peace and rest, and a deep inner stillness. I am almost ready again to say, “Into your hands I commend my spirit”, and I believe when I do, I will pass through the wall to a sweeter knowledge of Him.
Pray:
“O God, Creator of heaven and earth: Grant that, as the crucified body of your dear Son was laid in the tomb and rested on this holy Sabbath, so we may await with him the coming of the third day, and rise with him to newness of life; who now lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, for ever and ever. Amen.”
Kim McHugh serves with Christar International Network in Malaga, Spain. She and her husband, Brent, enjoy boating and reading on the the beach. Kim is thankful for the gift of their two married children and spouses, and their four grandchildren.
What a gift it's been to spend time in conversation this week. Thank you to those of you who joined us live and those who've watched the recordings and shared your experience after the fact. You can view recordings from each of the conversations linked in today's post on Patreon.
I’ve also unlocked the Lent Daybook posts for Maundy Thursday, Good Friday, Silent Saturday, and Resurrection Sunday at my Patreon page. You can see the posts here: patreon.com/sacramentallife.