It’s a mystery!

“It’s a mystery!” Red calls out with sing-song words. This is one of his favorite phrases. It answers every “why” question I pose without having to provide an excuse or lengthy explanation.

I used to hate mysteries. And surprises. I just don’t like questions I can’t answer. But slowly over the years I’ve become accustomed to the unknown. People ask me where we will move when Peter is finished with his PhD in June. I can honestly say, “I have no idea,” although I prefer Red’s “It’s a mystery!” I’ve learned (but not mastered) what it is like to rest in the unknown, to be comfortable in this time and this place. That is, at least when it comes to our living situation. I continue to struggle with other life mysteries – faith, church, and love.

Barbara Brown Taylor writes in her book An Altar in the World,

“Wisdom is not gained by knowing what is right. Wisdom is gained by practicing what is right, and noticing what happens when the practice succeeds and when it fails.”

Raising children requires wisdom – lots of it! On Sundays we take time as a family to quiet ourselves and worship. It is something that is important to us. However, anyone who has tried to sit through a service with a 4-year-old knows how difficult it can be to find that place of peace.

Fascinated by the balcony at church I told Red (4) we would sit there as a treat for “having a calm body and listening ears” during the service. This was motivation enough, so this morning we headed up, up, up to the balcony. Unlike the filled sanctuary, the balcony was peppered with only a dozen people – older women sitting alone, a single mother and her toddler, a young family with a new infant… so we slid into a pew close to the railing.

As the organ started and the choir began to sing, Red looked down on the sanctuary with eyes wide and sparkling. He looked at me and said, “Mom, I missed those blue guys!” He was talking about the choir in their robes! I missed those blue guys too – with illness and travel this winter it felt like a long time since we’d listened to the choir sing. Red peered down as we listened to the words rise up through the air – Rejoice the Lord is King!

Ordinarily I would have made Red sit down, but given the sparse balcony attendance I was able to focus on the service. And then he began to dance. Not wild dancing, more like a girl strung out on marijuana at a Dave Matthews concert with his arms gently rolling side to side, like he could feel an invisible wind. Given the fact that we attend a traditional, liturgical service, Red’s dancing is not a common worship practice. But today, it was beautiful. I didn’t need to correct him. He listened quietly and moved sweetly to the sound of the choir. And that little place in my heart – the one that is so hard to find, especially on Sundays it seems, was filled – filled with quiet content.

At the end of the anthem he whispered that it was time for his class. Red never wants to go to class during the service. Today, without my nagging to sit still or be quiet, he was ready to go and learn. After taking him to class I resumed my spot in the balcony with Louis and Peter. I listened to the words of the sermon – words of love, life, and healing taken from John 5:2-18.

I thought about the mystery of Christ healing the man who had been sick for 38 years. We don’t know what he had struggled with, but what mental anguish he must have endured along with physical illness and paralysis. Then the words of The Messiah’s Comfort Ye My People and Every Valley Shall Be Exalted filled my mind:

Comfort ye, comfort ye my people, saith your God. Speak ye comfortably to Jerusalem, and cry unto her, that her warfare is accomplished, that her iniquity is pardoned. The voice of him that crieth in the wilderness, Prepare ye the way of the Lord, make straight in the desert a highway for our God.

Every valley shall be exalted, and every mountain and hill shall be made low; the crooked straight, and the rough places plain.  – G. F. Handel, From Isaiah 40: 1-4

Comfort, solace, consolation in a time of distress. A source of relief and support. And this is God? We see this concept of comfort acted out by Christ as he heals the man suffering from chronic illness. His physical, mental, and spiritual needs relieved. How did it happen? “It’s a mystery!” Christ’s real comfort given to the man in John 5 is a beautiful illustration of the mystery that is the character of God.

I suppose we’ll be in the balcony from now on!