Can Goodness Break Through?

the whispers of God through uncertain times

I woke up over an hour before my alarm clock to the sound of gentle rain against the window and the song of a northern cardinal from a tree nearby. At first blush, none of these things seemed out of the ordinary. During these chaotic midlife years, I’m very familiar with early morning wake-up calls. Waking up to rain in the spring seems pretty normal, unless you take into account the severe drought my area has experienced over the last twelve months. Hearing the otherworldly call of a northern cardinal doesn’t seem very exceptional, unless you realize according to most habitat maps, northern cardinals aren’t supposed to live in western Nebraska.

As I glanced at my alarm clock (ugh…why can’t I ever sleep all night?) and then at the ceiling, I felt a wave of annoyance wash over me. I’m tired. I just want to sleep. I felt my whole body tense up. I clenched my jaw, and I turned over in bed with a huff. Maybe if I pushed myself deep into the mattress, I could will myself back to sleep.

The rain kept falling. The cardinal kept calling. Eventually, I stopped resisting. This moment was beautiful. Sure, it was 4 a.m. Yes, I was exhausted. No, I didn’t have any optimism that I could open my phone and not see wild, and terrible things in the news. And yet, there was no denying that this chorus of goodness outside my window was a blessing. Oh, how we needed the rain. Oh, how I needed to hear the call of the one who sang, “You don’t think I belong here, but I do.”

So many things in this world are chaotic, harsh, painful, and terrible. The front page of every newspaper or news website is enough to make any person despair, or eventually go numb. So many things in this world are broken. The whole earth is groaning—from devastating doughts to unseasonable destructive tornadoes, from catastrophic earthquakes to snowstorms that make everything grind to a halt.

At the same time, the crocuses push up from their winter hibernation. The cardinal sings in the rain. A person gives generously to someone who needs help. The soup on the stovetop makes the whole house smell good. Something impossible happens and delights a community.

Is it possible for goodness to break through? It happens every day. When goodness shows up, though, why do I resist receiving it?

Sometimes, I think I feel guilty embracing what’s good because I know so much is bad. Other times, I think I push the good gifts away because I don’t even recognize them for what they are. I’m focused on the early morning wake-up call, or the driver who cut me off in traffic and nearly caused an accident. I’m moving from one task to another, or falling down the rabbit hole of everything that’s broken in the world via my phone. While I’m ignoring the goodness that’s breaking through, it’s still there. It’s still calling. It’s still wondering what it will take for me to lift my eyes and notice.

I have several psalms I turn to when I make pastoral visits. One of them is Psalm 27. This psalm was possibly written during the time in David’s life when he was running away from King Saul. David’s life was in danger. He felt like he was being assailed on all sides, and at the conclusion of the psalm, he still wrote these words: “I believe that I shall see the goodness of the Lord in the land of the living. Wait for the Lord; be strong, and let your heart take courage; wait for the Lord!”

I believe that I shall see the goodness of the Lord. While he was running for his life. While the calling on his life from God felt more like a curse than a blessing. While every day could potentially be his last day, he believed he would see the goodness of the Lord.

We do not know what tomorrow may bring. We have no way of knowing when the painful or difficult moments of our lives will arrive. What we do know is that the goodness of God is not constrained by the brokenness of this world. The hardness of the world cannot stop goodness from breaking through. We can only hope we remain tenderhearted enough to receive it when it comes. And, even if the world turns our hearts to stone, I believe we shall see the goodness of the Lord as our hardened hearts crack just enough to let a little light through.

May we have open eyes, ready ears, and tender hearts—whether the goodness wakes us up at 4 a.m., or catches us by surprise in our busiest moments.

The Coffee Table

For Lent, I’m leading a class through the book Meeting Jesus on the Road by Cynthia Campbell and Christine Coy Fohr. This book focuses on the movement of Jesus from place to place as he taught about the kingdom of God. This week, I will be leading the group through chapter 3 - Traveling Unattached.

The Communion Table

Mr. Rogers famously asked in a song he wrote in 1968, “What do you do with the mad that you feel?” He wrote and shared this song to help children learn to emotionally self-regulate, to stop when they are angry, and to choose something helpful rather than harmful for whatever they do next.

This song may be nearing 60 years old, but I find myself asking the same question regularly these days. What do we do when we are angry, or heartbroken, or so overwhelmed with the pain in the world? Maybe we’re overwhelmed with what we see in the news. How can we not be? Perhaps we are going through difficulties in our own lives, or we are heartbroken by the suffering of someone we care about.

What do we do with all the pain that we feel? I wanted to provide a resource to help anyone who is looking for a way to offer their pain and lament to God. I put together a short, Portable Service of Lament that can be used anywhere. You can adapt it, add to it, change it up, however it is helpful for you.

Right before our Ash Wednesday service, Jeff and I paused to get a picture of us in our stoles. We don’t wear them very often. The service was a meaningful way to begin the season of Lent using multiple senses. We wrote the longings that are holding us back on rocks and we offered them to God. During a time of prayer, we utilized deep breaths in and out to symbolize releasing these things from our lives.

The Dining Table

Over the last couple of weeks, I’ve tried two new recipes from Budget Bytes. Chickpea Curry and One-Pot Creamy Cajun Chicken Pasta. I really liked the chickpea curry and plan to use it for meal prepping in the future. The creamy cajun chicken pasta was a hit with our whole family—a rarity these days.

The Craft Table

No pictures yet, but garden seed starting will be in progress soon. This is one of my very favorite things about this time of year.

Someone is hiding tiny Jesus figurines all over my church. It’s not me, but they delight me every time I see one!

It’s hard to believe we have had our attic cat for four years now! He’s the snuggliest, most loving cat. I sometimes think he doesn’t even know he’s a cat. Whenever I’m struggling to make space for joy and happiness, Atticus sits on my lap as though to say, “Human, you aren’t going anywhere until you realize you’ve got a lot that’s good.”

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Since that rainy, early morning cardinal concert, we’ve had more warm days, followed by a day of snow. The ups-and-downs of spring weather are on full display. My dogs are bringing muddy pawprints in onto the tile floor, but I can’t even be mad. They are happy, and the ground is soaking up the moisture as quickly as it possibly can.

Whatever your circumstance as you receive this letter, I hope you know how thankful I am for you and for your kindness to me. I love hearing about what’s going on in your lives and how this letter connects with you. May you keep receiving the blessings as they come, and may you continue to be a blessing to others wherever you go.

Until next time,

April

Looking for hope? I wrote this 7-day devotional during Covid, but it still gives me hope today. You can read it for free HERE. Or, are you looking for a book to help you return to the sacred pulse of God’s good world? Check out my book, The Sacred Pulse. If you’ve already read it, would you consider leaving me a short Amazon review? I’d love to get to 50 reviews because at the 50 mark, Amazon will start recommending my book to others.

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