"At Present the Other Side's Winning!"
What limericks, Louise Penny, and a couple of good men in the Bible can teach us about living in the in-between.
I kind of like limericks, to be honest. First appearing in the early 18th century, limericks can sometimes be crude; but on occasion, they can also include nuggets of truth — unique twists — that speak specifically and realistically to the human psyche. One of my favorite limericks goes like this:
God’s plan made a hopeful beginning.
But man spoiled his chances by sinning.
We trust that the story
Will end in God’s glory,
But at present the other side’s winning!
This last line is where my heart is at these days. It feels a little like a somber note as it belts out the tune in minor key. It happened a year and a half ago, and although it ebbs and flows, this indescribable thing lingers like the dense, drab clouds that know the sun is on the other side but refuse to let its light shine!
Several weeks ago, I wrote about the time I stopped during a long run while I was training for a marathon. I wrote that “I was tired of running and uncertain if my body and mind could even carry on” and then I suggested a three-part plan for all of us who are tired and hurting: stop running, admit you hurt, and believe in freedom.
These days, I sit between line 3 of the limerick (trusting in God) and line 5 (experiencing the brokenness of life). It is not that I don’t see the goodness of God; it’s just that right now I feel as though the other side — the pain and hurt of life — is winning. It’s this in-between, this already, but not yet that we live in.
I am guessing I am not alone. At present, it sure does seem like the other side is winning some days.
Two Men on a Road
Let me rewind several thousand years. Imagine a road and two men. The unthinkable had happened: Jesus — the one who was to rescue the entire world from sin — had been crucified. He was dead in the tomb, and all hope was lost:
“Now that same day two of them were going to a village called Emmaus, about seven miles from Jerusalem. They were talking with each other about everything that had happened.” (Luke 24:13-14)
Their faces, Luke tells us in his Gospel, were downcast (Luke 24:17). Heartbroken. Discouraged. Heavy-hearted.
The hopeful beginning was gone. Imagine you were walking with these men. What would you say? Would you say, “Buck up! You’ll be fine!” or “Life must go on!”? None of us would tell these men to not be sad. Likely you would listen as they speak of their sadness. The more empathetic of us might even cry along with them.
Why then do we not permit ourselves to be downcast as we live in a broken world that strikes out at us physically, emotionally, and spiritually?
One of my favorite mystery writers, Louise Penny, expresses this brilliantly in one of her novels, A Fatal Grace:
“When someone stabs you, it's not your fault that you feel pain.”
I like this. A lot. This world is stabbing us all the time — sometimes it’s little pricks of pain like a downpour when we planned a beach day; other times, it’s pain straight through our hearts as we watch our beloved suffer from cancer, from dementia, from heartache.
It’s not our fault we feel pain.
Let’s return to that road between Emmaus and Jerusalem. The men were talking about what had happened to Jesus when something rather remarkable occurs:
“As they talked and discussed these things with each other, Jesus himself came up and walked along with them…’” (Luke 24:15)
Let me place this in the limerick I shared at the outset: Although it seemed like “at present the other side’s winning,” they were not yet able to see that the other side hadn’t yet won. Their present experience was not the end of the story.
So what in the world do we do when we feel like sin, pain, suffering, sadness, and fear are winning?
We embrace it. We grab it by the arms and wrap it in love. We listen to our pain and fear, and sometimes, we cry along with our hearts as they break in two. We respond to our pain like we would respond to those downcast men on the road to Emmaus.
A Man in Susa
Now let me take you back 2,500 years to a Jewish man named Nehemiah who served the Persian king in a secular position in Susa, which is modern-day Iran. God’s people had been in exile and as Nehemiah learned of the state of God’s temple in Jerusalem, his heart fell downcast as well:
“They said to me, ‘Those who survived the exile and are back in the province are in great trouble and disgrace. The wall of Jerusalem is broken down, and its gates have been burned with fire.’ When I heard these things, I sat down and wept.”
Some days we can move through the disappointments of life and faith. Maybe, as you sit in the rubble of hurt, you aren’t sure if God is with you or not. Well, he is, and sometimes it’s worth it to just pretend like we believe that.
I remember a time when I felt confused and alone. One morning as I walked, I decided that I would pretend like Jesus was walking with me. I would say some things and I would imagine how he would respond. His responses were always so nice!
One day, as I did this, without prompting from my own brain, I felt God actually prompt me: “You know, I really am with you.”
Well!
An Attempt to Sum This Up
Back to Louise Penny, who wrote in another of her books, Bury Your Dead:
“Things are strongest where they're broken.”
I could go on an extensive monologue about this statement. But instead, I want to encourage you to ask what this truth means in your pain.
Your somber note belting out the tune in minor key isn’t bad. Those drab clouds aren’t stopping that sun from shining. It may seem like the other side is winning. That sin, pain, suffering, sadness, and fear are winning!
But they won’t win.
And today you can be downcast because you do live in this in-between time. You can be downcast like the men going to Emmaus or you can weep like Nehemiah.
AND > you can love yourself in your pain and be the person the men in Emmaus and Nehemiah would have wanted to be present.
AND > you can pretend God is there with you. Because, in Luke 24, Jesus does show up. And in Nehemiah, God does pick Nehemiah up. (Read the whole book of Nehemiah, it’s excellent, and [spoiler alert!], good things do happen!)
AND > I believe you will find that God is there with you as you feel the other side winning. And that he is making you and me stronger as we play our minor notes as best we can.
Much love to you,
💚 Laurie