Sunday, December 16, 2012

Hope (Weeping in Newtown)

Key Text: Matt. 2:16-18; Jeremiah 31:15-17

This entry pains me in the wake of the great tragedy in Newtown, Connecticut, but I cannot quench the urging of the Holy Spirit.  Twenty children and six adults were viciously murdered in an elementary school.  My emotions say that we should never have to hear or see those words, but I just typed them with tears in my eyes.  I spent most of Friday and Saturday and now sit here writing this before I can go try and sleep off and on in tears.  My heart aches for the families and community affected and my minds ears hear the echoes from millenia ago.

Two major instances of mass murder of children preceded deliverance.  First, Moses was born into a world of slavery.  The Jews were enslaved to the Egyptians and for fear of revolt the Pharoah issues an edict to murder every male Jewish child aged two and younger.  Countless children were to be murdered, but the grace of God spared Moses to deliver His people.  We can enter into the debate of why just Moses, but we are not given answers.  The answers while important, is not the goal, the grace of God is what it is, sovereign, omniscient.  My mind fast-forwards several millenia to the birth of Christ.  This is the reason for the season that surrounds us.  Christ was born into a world rife with political oppression and despair.  We try to frame the birth Christ with shimmering lights and garland.  We try to remove the pain and anguish of the labor pains, the panic of Joseph with his wife in throes of labor unable to find a place to stay, and finally the stench of the stable that Jesus was born.  Yes, the Savior of the world was born into the squalor of a stable.  It was physically completely inglorious, yet it was completely glorious.

But, what sticks out to me as I remember the families in Newtown is the prophecy of Jeremiah 31:15: "Thus says the LORD: 'A voice is heard in Ramah, lamentation and bitter weeping. Rachel is weeping for her children; she refuses to be comforted for her children, because they are no more.'"  This prophecy is fulfilled in the first two chapters in Matthew.  The Magi arrive into the court of King Herod.  Herod greets the foreign dignitaries and is regaled with their tale of following a ever persistent star.  Herod slyly suggests that they should tell him where the boy king was so that he may worship him as well (Matt. 2).  The Magi were warned to not go back to Jerusalem after they served and worshiped the Christ child (not in a manger but in a home).  Herod becomes enraged and orders the mass murders of every child under two years old in Judea.  Matthew clearly cites the prophecy of Jeremiah.  The tears of Rachel, the beloved wife of Jacob and mother of Joseph and Benjamin are clear.  (Note: Benjamin's land share of the promised land and Joseph's land share split between his two sons comprise the region of Judea.)

The tears of the mothers and fathers then and the mothers and fathers now dampen the ground.  But, I am persuaded and convinced that God has not left us.  That just as God set aside Moses and Jesus, He has a plan for those that remain.  The lives lost in Newtown are not lost in vain.  I hope in Christ, because He has brought me from the brink.  I have watched Him bring many that I love from the brink.  Paul says to a troubled, distraught church in Rome, "And not only [so], but we glory in tribulations also: knowing that tribulation worketh patience; And patience, experience; and experience, hope: And hope maketh not ashamed; because the love of God is shed abroad in our hearts by the Holy Ghost which is given unto us. (Romans 5:3-5 KJV)."  The hope I have despite my tears, the hope that lives despite the horrible tragedies now and around the world will not make us ashamed.  This hope is that a loving, righteous, all-knowing, gracious, all-powerful, all-respecting, all-feeling, all-everything God sits on the throne and is not derelict.  As Jesus says to us, "Blessed are those that mourn, for they shall be comforted (Matt. 5:4).

May God be with those that mourn,

Ernest

No comments:

Post a Comment