Returning to the Shadowlands

Returning to the Shadowlands 

A St. Patrick’s Day Reflection on Grief

      One of my personal favorite holidays during the year is Saint Patrick's Day.  I wear green head to toe, I eat green food, and I play Irish themed games with my kids.  Most people think that Saint Patrick's Day is set aside for dying the river in Chicago green, drinking green beer, pinching people who aren't wearing green, shamrocks (mmmm, Shamrock shakes from McDonalds), and Irish music.  But what I love about this holiday is the story behind it.  It is a celebration of the life of a great missionary named Maewyn Succat, better known today as Patrick.  I wrote a lesson for children about Patrick's life.  It includes Irish songs, snacks, games, and most of all the story of a man who was deeply burdened for the souls of others.  This celebration is a story that is deep and far more painful than most people realize. 

      Patrick was born in Scotland, but he was kidnapped by pirates in his early teen years.  They took him far away from home and sold him into slavery.  For over six years he lived in isolation, tending sheep in harsh conditions.  He was treated like a slave, like property.  His living conditions could barely be described as livable.  He woke up from the same nightmare each day.  But something amazing happened in Patrick's life while he was in servitude, his faith in God deepened.  Oftentimes hardship forces us to dig deeper roots of faith.  Storms can expose the depth of the believers commitment to Christ.  

      Eventually, Patrick escaped and returned home to Britain. He was finally free. Safe. Back where he belonged.  That sounds like a nice story wrapped up with a bow.  It's a movie script with a beautiful ending.  It's front page of the paper material....but that's not the end of the story.  God in His sovereignty allowed Patrick to go through this situation, and Patrick was determined to not waste his experience or his suffering.  He determined in his soul to use his hurt for God's glory and the furtherance of His Kingdom.  Something remarkable happened.  God called him to go back.  Back to the very land where he had suffered.  Back to the people who had enslaved him.  Back to the place of his deepest pain.  Back to those people who beat him and treated him as property.

      Patrick returned to Ireland not as a slave, but this time as a servant to the High King of Heaven.  He came back as a missionary.  A missionary with a heart determined that His hurt would not be wasted.  He came bringing the hope of the gospel to the people who once held him captive.  Because of Patrick's tireless surrender, a large majority of Ireland trusted in Christ as their Savior.  They cast aside their idol worship, their system of druid religion, their sinful ways, and they cried out to Christ to be their Savior.  All because one man told God, here is my pain, here is my past, here is my suffering, use this for your glory o' Lord.

     I’ve been thinking about that a lot lately.  I've always loved Patrick, but now I relate to him in way that I haven't prior.  Why?  Because grief can feel like a place we desperately want to escape.  It can feel like it enslaves you, masters you, crushes you.  When you lose someone you love, you want to press forward. You want the pain to stop. You want to close the chapter and leave that land behind forever.  But sometimes God asks us to go back.  Not to relive the pain.  Not to stay trapped there.  But to reach the people who are still there.  To reach people that are still enslaved to their pain, a pain that is keeping the door of the Gospel closed in their life.  A pain that has become a root of bitterness against the goodness of God.  They cry out quietly to a God they do not yet know, 'send help.'  God didn't choose to send someone with a clean record, someone who never doubted, God didn't pick someone who was strong and never dealt with anxiety.  He picked a broken vessel, a testimony of tears, but a heart that is fully surrendered.  My heart.  

      After losing Tiff, grief became a land I never expected to live in.  I called it the shadowlands. It was lonely. Confusing. And at times it felt impossible to navigate. Like many people who grieve, my instinct was to survive it and move on as quickly as possible.  But over time, I’ve sensed something different from God.  A calling to return to the shadowlands, to go back to 'no man's land' to show other hurting men how to navigate grief by faith.  To step back into the conversations about grief.  To sit in cold, sterile hospital rooms.  To sit with men who feel like they’re drowning in it.  To walk alongside widowers who feel completely alone.  In many ways, it feels like going back to Ireland.  Not because I want to relive the pain, but because there are people there who need hope.

      Many men are silently carrying grief.  Men who think they’re the only ones struggling.  Men who have nowhere to talk about the loss they carry.  If God can redeem the place of our deepest hurt, and He cane, then He can also use it as a place of ministry.  That’s the unexpected part of grief.  The place that I begged God to deliver me from, to save me from, is the very place that He has asked me to go back to.  But this time not just with pain, but with purpose.  Now with compassion, understanding, and hope for others walking the same road.

      So this Saint Patrick's Day, I’m thinking less about shamrocks and more about courage.  The courage it took for him to return.  And the grace God gives when He asks us to walk back into hard places, not alone, but with a purpose.  Because sometimes redemption looks like returning.