From the beginning, the music pulls me in. I instantly recognize the I-III-VI-III chord progression that evokes such emotion. I feel his sadness. I notice the tension between the runner and his care-givers, and I am torn. I can’t shake the empathy I feel for both the residents with dementia and their staff. I see him gaze longingly out the window, ever-looking beyond the confines of his concrete, sterile surroundings to places softer, more natural and inviting. Even at his own birthday party, he finds it difficult to connect with those around the table to celebrate.
Listen the abbridged audio version of this reflection
I know the power of sport and the unquenchable desire for physical activity. I’d like to think that it calls to me with a similar fervor as it does to him. But I’m not old. I’m not an elite athlete. I’m not losing my mind, as far as I can tell. So our connection subsides. But then… he looks up at his friends who have brought him his confiscated running gear. He lifts his eyes. Wait, is he looking at me? In that moment I shift from an observer to participant. Now, I’m invested.
As I hold onto the image of him disappearing over the hill into the valley below, arms outstretched, open to where the path will take him, I wonder, “where’s he headed? The world is a dangerous place, will he be safe? I start to worry.
And then I feel something else…
An odd sense of thankfulness rushes over me. Suddenly, I become aware of my gratitude for the lack of this exact experience in my own life. Though we’re accustomed to other forms of dying in my family, I’ve never had to watch someone I love slowly fade away. In that moment, I become very aware of my own connection to death. I embrace mortality, the frailty and brevity of life. And I sit with the weight of that sadness for a moment… the heavy burden of waiting, longing for something you’re not convinced is possible any more.
But surprisingly, I also perceive the joyful brilliance of a life lived with passion and singular focus… a life shared with others and the profound impact we have through the life-giving grace of community.
As I bring these concepts to scripture, I think about grief, mourning and “sitting” shiva (Job 2:11 ff, Gen 50:10). I’m reminded of the “scapegoat” in the Hebrew Scriptures (Lev 16:21 ff), ritualistically placing the sins of the people on a goat and sending it out into the wilderness as a symbol of absolution. The common, recurring theme of new life coming from old, childless couples who had given up on having kids comes to mind; some of them even laugh at God and call God crazy. I recall the birth of Jesus, conceived by the power of the Holy Spirit and born of the virgin Mary, how God plants the seed of hope and deliverance in unexpected places.
It reminds me of the description of the early church in the book of Acts and elsewhere; how they were gathered, singing, praying, eating together, and serving one another, giving to everyone according to their need.
There are many exhortations for the people of God at Ephesus, the community in Christ, to bear one another’s burdens, share joy and suffering within the community of grace, forgive one another as we have been forgiven, and be knit together by the Holy Spirit in all their rich diversity into one body. Because this is how the love of God in Christ is made real to us.
The writer in Ephesians 2:13-14 talks about this movement in a beautiful way: But now in Christ Jesus you who once were far off have been brought near by the blood of Christ. For he is our peace; in his flesh he has made both groups into one and has broken down the dividing wall, that is, the hostility between us.
In the First Century, Ephesus was the Roman capital of Asia Minor. The port city of Ephesus, now in modern-day Turkey, was a busy and diverse center of commerce and religious pilgrimage. It was the site of the temple of Artemis and the Christian community gathered there was quite diverse. With different practices and rituals, these various people from all over the Roman Empire and beyond were drawn together by the Holy Spirit. We can be pretty sure that there was some history between various people or groups within the community. Things got a little messy, which is why they got a detailed letter encouraging them to put aside their hostility and live into their oneness in Christ.
The community that we experience throughout our day takes different forms. Most of the time, we don’t get to hand-pick these people; we are usually thrown together because of similar circumstances or shared interest. We don’t get to choose our neighbors, the people we drive next to on the highway, or the people we end up with at a medical facility. And we can’t control who gather with us for worship in our communities of faith.
Who knows where they all came from, but the runner in the video has found himself in a community. His people will go to great lengths to help him reconnect with his passion, to be there for him when he needs it the most, to break down the walls that keep him from experiencing renewed life. And in the process of making his brokenness their own and responding faithfully to it, they settle into a life of greater meaning and purpose. A holy life. Together. His sadness is theirs; his freedom and joy becomes their own as well.
This is what I take with me into my daily life: We have this gift because God in Christ has brought us together by the generative and unstoppable power of the Holy Spirit. God invites us to live in it, find our place in it, and help create and participate in how that new life breaks free in the lives of all the communities in which we find ourselves.
I am starting today with the help of the various communities of faith I serve (Incarnation Lutheran in Shoreview and Faith Lutheran in Forest Lake, MN). I’m going to talk to the band that I lead and colleagues in ministry and ask for their help stepping into this gift. I invite you, along with me, to lean into a faith-based small group, a bible study or online devotional group, and explore the life-giving power God is offering to us through community. Let me know how it’s going and we’ll keep each other going.
Because this is where we find ourselves. This is where we are set free.
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