Disaster and disappointment

To disappointed friends
People often talk about remembering exactly where they were when 'historic' events happened such as Kennedy's assassination or Princess Diana's death. I never do, with one exception, and that was what's become known as 9/11 - exactly 10 years ago today. I was in the Vicarage in Stanford, and Bryan gave a shout. He was watching TV upstairs. I sat down and we watched with disbelief the WTC towers collapsing in smoke and dust, and the unfolding story - which of course is continuing in Afghanistan and Iraq, and in our own intelligence services, even today.

I've been thinking a lot today about personal disasters and disappointments. In New York unsurprisingly they decided not to rebuild the Trade Centre, but to build a memorial instead. The write-up says: "The 9/11 Memorial features two enormous waterfalls and reflecting pools, each about an acre in size, set within the footprints of the original twin towers. The Memorial Plaza is one of the most eco-friendly plazas ever constructed. More than 400 trees are planned for the plaza, surrounding the Memorial's two massive reflecting pools. Its design conveys a spirit of hope and renewal, and creates a contemplative space separate from the usual sights and sounds of a bustling metropolis." 
Where, I wondered, is the hope and renewal when we ourselves are faced with the two "Ds"? When our hopes are shattered? When our trust is betrayed? When what we spent our lives working for seems destroyed at a stroke? When our friends are grievously let down? When they, or we, face deep bereavement? 


When Jesus announced his ministry manifesto in Nazareth, he read from the start of Isaiah 61, "The Spirit of the Lord is upon me, because he has anointed me... to proclaim the year of the Lord's favour..." Isaiah continues: "to comfort all who mourn;
to grant to those who mourn in Zion—
    to give them a beautiful headdress instead of ashes,
the oil of gladness instead of mourning,
   the garment of praise instead of a faint spirit;
that they may be called oaks of righteousness,
   the planting of the LORD, that he may be glorified.
They shall build up the ancient ruins;
   they shall raise up the former devastations;
they shall repair the ruined cities,
   the devastations of many generations." There's a progression about his mission. He's come to comfort and restore those who are shattered by life, and the restored will be restoring people in their turn. 

This morning I was reminded of the couple walking on the road to Emmaus talking to the unrecognised Jesus about his death: "But we had hoped that he was the one to redeem Israel." How wistful, and how familiar is that! And yet of course their journey hasn't ended. He reveals himself as the one who even turns death around, in the breaking of bread. There's nowhere that he's unable to transform. Having plodded away with a faint spirit, they run back to their friends in Jerusalem to gee them up with the news (Luke 24). 

There's a great prophecy to the dispirited Jews who've returned from exile in Iraq, with high hopes of seeing their temple again. The oldies remember its former glory, but now it's in ruins and they can't imagine how it will ever be the same again. Haggai's message to them tells them not to be discouraged because "I am with you... My Spirit is in your midst." That hasn't changed, because God has made his covenant - and he always keeps his promise. And he's in the restoration business, big-time. "The silver is mine, and the gold is mine, declares the LORD of hosts. The latter glory of this house shall be greater than the former, says the LORD of hosts. And in this place I will give peace, declares the LORD of hosts" (Haggai 2.8,9).

Friends of mine have had three major bereavements in quick succession. I can understand why things might look grey and bleak. On 14 November 1940 Coventry Cathedral was hit in a bombing raid. In the morning it looked like this. 

The story of the charred beams made into a cross is well-known. Today the Cathedral looks quite different. I never saw the old one (!) but the new one is not only an architectural masterpiece; it's a centre of reconciliation, mission and vibrant worship. I have a feeling too that the Holy Spirit is present to transform and restore lives, and that, of course, is the purpose of the Church, to be a community where the Spirit is welcomed and produces his fruit of "love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, self-control"

The sculpture on the wall of the new cathedral, by Jacob Epstein, is of the archangel Michael defeating the dragon (Satan) in the last book of the Bible (Revelation 12). Here, at last, the all pervading root of evil is to be dealt with, for good. In Mean Talking Blues Woody Guthrie portrayed the character of evil: 

"I hate to love and I love to hate...

And I hate God!
Well, if I can get the fat to hatin' the lean
That'd tickle me more than anything I've seen,
Then get the colors to fightin' one another,
And friend against friend, and brother... and sister against brother,
That'll be just it...." 

There's bad news for the mean-talking devil, which is that his days were numbered from the weekend when Jesus died and rose again from death. Which means there's good news for those of us facing personal disappointment and disaster. God's in charge - not the other lot - and he's the Great Restorer. He restores my soul, he leads me in green pastures.