Tag Archives: suffering

Why This Suffering?

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Commentary

For several weeks now, I have been camping out in the last several chapters of Acts and 1 Peter (before breakfast and on my lunch walk, respectively). Meanwhile, I am suffering some trials. This poem/prayer is a response to what I’m reading and thinking and living.

Here’s an exchange I had about this poem with someone I deeply respect:

Debbie Johnson: There is so much chaos, so much pain littering a landscape made for beauty & wonder.

Me: Well-put! And yet the suffering that results is—inscrutable to me—a major part of restoring that landscape.

Debbie Johnson: Yes! And as CS Lewis would add, recognizing the unsoothable ache is a reminder we were made for something beyond even our best here.

Acts 20-28, 1 Peter 5:10

Learn From Weeds

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Commentary

Someone I love advised me against being as transparent as I wish to be. If this is insensitive, please forgive me….

In my work at the library, my favorite clients tend to be older black women. Here’s what I have observed…. They are often vocal followers of Jesus Christ, and they tend to have a joy that rises above the circumstances I KNOW they have experienced through a lifetime in our country. They are my superiors, and I love working with my superiors.

Here’s a story I wrote about one such patron:

A little lady stopped by the reference desk holding her computer pass. “I’m going to need your help,” she said to me. Then, feigning terror, she added, “Look at my face!”

“Full of beauty, love, and grace?” I shot back. “Don’t worry, I’ll help you.”

As we sat together working on her documents, she began telling me how good her grown children have been to her, how if she asks them to do so they’ll pool their money and buy her a computer. To prove her point she showed me pictures of the little greenhouse they bought her, complete with a clever sprinkler system. I asked her how she’ll cook the squash and okra she started in the greenhouse and is now growing in her garden (hint: it involves baking, which is better than boiling!).

Humor, patience, thankfulness. The question I’d shot back at her was right on the money. Look at her face… full of beauty, love, and grace.

Burial Clothes

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Commentary

Here’s one of my weird poems, a blurting out of thoughts I don’t yet fully understand.

For what it’s worth…. I’m reading (having a fierce argument with) a book that purports to be about theologically-correct social justice. Over and over, I find myself wondering if Jesus would rebuke the author in the same way he rebuked fine-sounding Pharisees.

(background image by Brunox on Pixabay)

Pain and Joy

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Commentary

This poem expresses my confidence that there is no shortage of things to inspire poetry. If a few days pass when I don’t feel any urgency to write, I don’t panic. My muse will return.

(background image by Gaurav on Pixabay)

#inspiration #muse #thenwelcomeeachrebuff #thatturnsearthssmoothnessrough

Follow Me

(if you are viewing this via email, the website has a recording of this poem and commentary; click the title above)

Commentary

This poem was inspired by a passage in Brant Pitre’s excellent “The Case for Jesus.”

Being a student in the ancient world was radically different from what it is like today, when it simply means you may (or may not) listen to a fifty-minute lecture three times a week for a semester. Being one of Jesus’ students meant following him everywhere, and listening to him all the time, for anywhere between one and three years.

p86 “The Case For Jesus” by Brant Pitre

(background image by SplitShire on Pixabay)

To The Guide

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Commentary

The idea behind this poem still needs a lot of work. In the meantime, maybe it will make sense to you and even resonate….

When I was young, I sometimes dreamed of being a mountaineering guide. And I had definite ideas about how kind and understanding a guide should be to the slowest and weakest of his clients.

Just now, I had a vision  (not literal, but almost so) of myself as that slowest and weakest one on the trail. Is there comfort in my perception of the Good Guide?

The trail is real, and physical, and hard. But there is a reality just out of sight, a realm of rest and realization. It parallels the trail, but is permanent, and more real than the trail. The Good Guide will transfer me to that realm at the perfect time. Not too soon, and not too late.

MOSES, JESUS, STEPHEN… ME?

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Stephen, full of faith,
The Spirit, grace, and power,
Served the Lord one glorious hour.

When Freedmen apprehended him,
He spoke to them of Moses,
Sent by God to set his people free.

He recounted how the Jewish slaves
Rebuffed their would-be liberator,
But let him lead them out, eventually.

Short-lived, this being led….
They got it in their head
A cow could rescue them instead.

It’s no surprise, this people unwise
Would not heed Moses when he said,
“Watch for another like me to rise.”

Angry, the list’ners let rocks fly.
Like risen Jesus, Stephen would die,
A loud “Forgive them!” his final cry.

— Brad Hepp, 8/17/2023

Commentary

In my crawl through Acts, I just arrived in chapter seven, and pitched my tent there. This poem is an early reflection on what I’m seeing as I look around my new camping spot.

(background image is a photograph of Rembrandt’s “The Stoning of Saint Stephen.” That is one of Rembrandt’s earliest paintings.)

In Fidelity

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Commentary

This evening, I texted what some might consider a disturbingly simple theological question to a trusted friend. He and I have talked about the good and necessary process of questioning a lifetime of assumptions. Sometimes, when you get old, you finally have the courage and wisdom to say, “WHY did I always make this assumption?” But then you realize there’s little time to come to new and settled conclusions. That’s why I wrote this poem. It doesn’t necessarily make sense. Actually, like the Preacher concluded, it doesn’t make sense at all apart from the prospect of eternal life.

#ecclesiastes3 #strengthofyouth #wisdomofage #fidelity

(background image by Viola on Pixabay)

Noisy For Now

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I’m not your guy to explain eschatology (what happens in the future, according to Scripture). Frankly, I doubt anyone’s got that completely right. But one book I’m reading now fired up my imagination about the last trumpet, and what trumpets do—they gather.

Behold! I tell you a mystery. We shall not all sleep, but we shall all be changed, in a moment, in the twinkling of an eye, at the last trumpet. For the trumpet will sound, and the dead will be raised imperishable, and we shall be changed.

1 Corinthians 15:51‭-‬52 ESV

#lasttrumpet #1corinthians15v52 #peacewithgod

Is the Shepherd Really Good?

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Commentary

TODAY’S LUNCHTIME THOUGHTS
I have been camping out in John 18 for about a week now. This is the chapter where Jesus is arrested and Peter denies him. John switches back and forth between Jesus and Peter. One is protecting others, the other is protecting himself. As I reflect on what Jesus would have me learn from this section, I naturally think about the spheres in which I can and should look out for others: in my family, church, at work, on boards…. Am I being a good shepherd?

HOW ABOUT GOD?
The poem pushes on John’s claim that Jesus loved his disciples to the end, and that he did not fail in protecting them. I’m convinced that God does not mind us asking hard questions about his goodness. To do anything less is to not take him seriously. So, is God good?

What I have written in the poem is not a full answer to that question. Hah! But it’s part of the answer. His loving purpose for us is not accomplished in 70 years, or even 100.

#goodshepherd #theodicy #john13v1 #peteriwilllaydownmylife #john15v23 #greaterlovehasnoone #john17v12 #john18 #feedmysheep #john21v17

(background image by David Mark on Pixabay)

Sent

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Commentary

THE CHRIST
This morning, as I crawl through Jesus’ prayer in John 17, I think back to Peter’s confession: “You are the Christ, the Son of the living God” (Matthew 16:16). Some of us may tend to hear Peter’s confession solely as a recognition of Jesus’ greatness. But where there is an annointed one—the literal meaning of christos—there is an annointer. As we can clearly see in John 17, Jesus was determined that his disciples know WHO had sent him, WHO had annointed him, thus making him the Christ. For him, that was paramount.

Consider the kind of humility it would take for a United States Ambassador to proclaim: “I am merely a deputy.” Jesus was far more than a deputy. But such was his humble perspective.

Is it mine? Today?

#thechrist #matthew16v16 #petersconfession #humility

Glory in Descent

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Commentary

GNAWING AT GLORY
The other day, I was reading an article by a respected theologian. Whatever the topic was (I forget), I stopped reading when I got to a paragraph that began, “Let me explain glory….”

Why did I stop reading? I respect that author so much that I assume he’s close to understanding something I very much wish to understand. But here’s the deal: I wish to chew on this topic, not swallow it whole; to squeeze the oranges, not just drink orange juice; to assemble a jigsaw puzzle, not just admire its finished scene.

It’s in the COMING TO UNDERSTAND that I’ll be changed.

Here’s a closely-related poem: Through Clouds.

(background image based on an original by Nina Edmondson on Pixabay)

#nowisthesonofmanglorified #john13v31 #judasandjesus

Glory in Dust

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Commentary

This poem is inspired by the seeming anachronism of what Jesus said just after Judas had left the Last Supper on his way out to betray him:

When he had gone out, Jesus said, “Now is the Son of Man glorified, and God is glorified in him.”

John 13:31

I held off on posting this poem for several days. Here’s what I wrote to a friend about my hesitation:

I have this niggling feeling I’m getting something wrong in the poem, that something’s off.

I believe this is what was troubling me: everything in me wants to associate God’s glory with triumph. But Jesus’ statement that “Now is the Son of Man glorified” comes just at the point in the story where Judas has gone out to help the religious leaders defeat Jesus.

How does Jesus’ putting himself in a place where his enemies could–and would–kill him constitute an instance of God’s glory–the glory of the Father and the glory of the Son?

Here’s one of several answers. I offer this one because it applies to us as it does to Jesus: our submission reveals the glory of a God who is able to make a man who can say “No” but is willing to say “Yes.” If we go all the way back to Job, we see that this glory of God is on display to the universe.

“Sent”
As I have been slowly reading through the Gospel of John, there is a word that Jesus uses frequently about himself. It is “sent.” He wants people to understand and believe that he is sent by the Father. For instance, John records this short prayer of Jesus when the stone had been taken away from Lazarus’ tomb:

So they took away the stone. And Jesus lifted up his eyes and said, “Father, I thank you that you have heard me. I knew that you always hear me, but I said this on account of the people standing around, that they may believe that you sent me.”

John 11:41-42

Can You Still Be Shaped?

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Commentary

In a sidebar of “Rejoicing in Christ,” Michael Reeves writes about the English Reformer John Bradford. He says, “Most Christians take mealtime as a chance to thank God and remember him as their provider, but Bradford saw every part of the day as a gospel reminder.”

That seems like a fitting response to God’s ubiquitous poetry.

About the Background Image
Two blocks over from where I live, there is a house with a tall, elegant sycamore. That’s the kind of tree that surrounded our house in East Texas. I thought they were fairly common, until I began looking for one to photograph for another poem. That’s when I discovered how rare they are, at least in Dallas.

This afternoon, as the sun set at its new, ridiculously early bedtime, I was out for a walk, and noticed how beautiful the light was. As I walked, I was supposedly listening to King David’s Psalms. But my mind was also occupied with how I myself should respond to beauty around me.

Peter’s Question, and Mine

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Commentary

My commentary here is in two parts.

My Original Confusion (what I was thinking when I wrote the poem)
In Luke 12, the tone of Jesus’ parables switches from reassuring to threatening. Just as the tone changes, Luke throws in a question from Peter:

Peter said, “Lord, are you telling this parable for us or for all?”

Luke 12:41

This is one of those seeming non-sequiturs that makes me sit up and ask, “What’s going on here!?” Luke doesn’t give us Jesus’ answer. Or does he? I don’t know yet. But I know that the passage makes me uncomfortable. Perhaps that’s exactly as it should be.

On Further Reflection (what I wrote on a subsequent day)
You know, as I read through Luke 12 again this morning, I am getting a really different picture. How does Jesus describe the master (Himself) who returns at an unexpected hour and finds his servants being good to one another?

Blessed are those servants whom the master finds awake when he comes. Truly, I say to you, he will dress himself for service and have them recline at table, and he will come and serve them.

Luke 12:37 ESV

The picture is grim not for those good, Christ-like servants but for those who selfishly look out only for themselves.

Jesus doesn’t ask us to do anything more than He has done… or anything less.

Now… who am I supposed to serve today?

Getting Old Being Gold

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Commentary

LET LAMENT BE

When we suffer loss, people often reach for metaphor, supposing it will comfort: windows being opened, gold refined of dross. But the view out a window is sometimes bleak, and gold in finished form not always something we would seek.

In plain terms, one of the themes I keep returning to in my poetry is a sense of loss, and how to deal with it. I think of Paul’s claim

12 I know what it is to be in need, and I know what it is to have plenty. I have learned the secret of being content in any and every situation, whether well fed or hungry, whether living in plenty or in want. 13 I can do all this through him who gives me strength.

Philippians 4:12,13

Paul isn’t self-sufficient. Jesus’ provision of strength comes at least partly through fellow believers. The immediate context of Paul’s claim seems to be his thankfulness for financial support from the church at Philippi. But in the rest of the letter to the Philippians, Paul mentions other kinds of support. Notice the words and phrases in chapter 2: encouragement, compassion, comfort, looking to the interests of others, concern, having mercy, sparing from sorrow.

How do we participate in this mutual encouragement? What I’m suggesting in the poem above is that it starts with acknowledging difficulties. In order for any of us to support others in their grieving or loss, we need to first acknowledge grief or loss in ourselves, and let others do the same.

(background image by Karn Badjatia on Pixabay)

Shedding Subtleties

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(background photo adapted from one by “ilamag” on Pixabay)

Commentary

When I try to shock myself and others out of our complacency, I usually discover that we’re well insulated.

I get the impression that the Gospel author Luke wanted to shock his readers. In story after story, he illustrates Jesus’ absolute demands on his disciples… and the disciples’ absolute compliance. The central passage may be this one:

So therefore, any one of you who does not renounce all that he has cannot be my disciple.

Luke 14:33

In Luke’s account of how the disciples followed Jesus, we see that renouncing of everything. For instance, when Jesus calls Simon, James and John away from their career as fishermen, here’s how they respond

And when they had brought their boats to land, they left everything and followed him.

Luke 5:11

“Everything” — that’s more than I have renounced. And that makes me uncomfortable. What also makes me uncomfortable is how quickly my mind tries to supply excuses. You know, stuff like decorum, not being a burden on others, being “wise.”

See a devotional I did on this back during the height of the pandemic: “Generosity, a Fruit of Godliness.”

Heartless

Commentary

I really don’t have a lot I can say about this poem yet. It is almost entirely a raw, unprocessed impression of my state of mind.

But I can say two things…. As some other recent poems reveal, I am doing a lot of thinking about what it means that we live in a fallen world, and how I participate in the fallenness.

When this “poem” (or “sentence,” if you prefer) popped into my head, I was reading The Reluctant Tommy. Quoting from Wikipedia, it’s a book “compiled by Duncan Barrett from the memoirs of Ronald Skirth, a member of the Royal Garrison Artillery during the First World War…. The book captured attention due to Skirth’s actions during the war to avoid enemy casualties.”

Connecting Blood
Although I haven’t figured out just what this sentence or poem expresses, I’m pretty sure that “connecting” refers to various relationships between various things. That’s how my mind works.

Waiting, Not Alone

Commentary

When I woke up this morning, one of the first things I did was read a post from someone I follow on social media: Daniel Hanson. As is often the case, Daniel’s post was long. As is always the case, his post was intellectually stimulating, largely because it was intellectually honest. Daniel struggles with depression.

Daniel drew on the painful experience of several remarkable people: Robert Frost, W.H. Auden, Mother Teresa, T.S. Eliot, Robert Browning, the prophet Habakkuk. The leading quote was written to him by his personal friend, Michael Novak: “Often enough, faith leads one to feel abandoned to darkness, isolated in inner dryness, undermined by a fear of having been seduced into an illusion. It is not at all hard for a person with faith to understand why one would walk away.” Daniel then told one of the stories that explain Novak’s “particular brooding depression.”

So, Daniel would conclude, “I know that I am not alone in these feelings. I know that others carry the weight of staggering pains that every day threaten to make them stumble and fall.”

As I processed what I had read, I thought especially of Michael Novak and Mother Teresa. Michael Novak spoke hopefully of suffering as a “sign of spiritual adulthood.” Daniel quoted Mother Teresa as saying “how sweet and merciful is the lord” despite being in “the place where she must only wait — a place where no hope would appear.”

My mind turned to this very short but very long (“so close to/Here so far from”) wait for resolution. I pictured Mother Teresa in a doctor’s waiting room like the one I recently visited, and set out to write this poem.

THE LAST LINE
The last line is ambiguous. In what sense are we not alone? Other mortals experience the same grief we do. Knowing that brings a little comfort. But some of them point us to a greater comfort: the Immortal One stepped into our experience of time and space and suffered with us. Jesus personally understands grief. Moreover, He is willing and able to effect all necessary change, to bring relief.

Mourning, Too Soon

Commentary

This is not an Easter poem. Or is it?

I jotted this down yesterday morning after a sleepless night, one where an admittedly minor ailment was reminding me of what took the lives of my parents. I’d have posted it yesterday, but ran out of time. Now, as I post this, it is Easter.

If you see ambivalence, mixed with annoyance, mixed with underlying hope, you see well. Hopefully, my reading of the poem (above) will reveal the negative side of my feelings.

The background photo is one I took up in the mountains last year on a similar morning, after a similar night.

Here is an exchange I had with a concerned friend, when he asked about the ailment. After describing the ailment, I wrote:

So, the poem was written out of fear and mild exhaustion, but with the realization that I was not acting in the full hope that often moves me. It’s full of double meaning.

Darol responded:

Yes, the middle of the night amplifies our fears and disappointments. I tell myself that the daylight will scatter them, and that they will end forever in that eternal morning.

Good, wise friends. They’re the best!

Flowers In The Shadow

UNJAUNDICE VISION

Only in the shadow
Was the yellow light
Sufficiently subdued
For us to welcome
Beauty unforeseen.

— Brad Hepp, 2/22/2020

There, now I have tied this to the conversation I was having with a friend when I took the photo. We were pondering how weakness and inadequacy may actually be celebrated as part of the suffering that precedes restoration and exaltation in the Divine economy. See James 1:9-18

Celebrating the First Week of Advent

This Advent mindset doesn’t come easy for me, but I’m trying…. When I say “Let’s not pretend,” it’s myself I’m talking to. Being a “glass one-fifth full” guy, I frequently gloss over my own disappointments. And I ignore the suffering of others all too easily. But I’m convinced that God will correct this, that God IS correcting this.

Earth to Sky: “Hello?”

This is a sad time for many I love. The pain is shared and felt deeply, but need not be without purpose.

The poem was a response to what I observed in myself as I contemplated the tragic drowning of a friend’s 4-year-old son. For over a week, I — along with thousands across the globe — was praying for this child to recover. When God did not grant our prayer, I didn’t know quite what to do with my own response. To act as if I didn’t have disappointment was surely not healthy. Elephants in the rooms I share with ever-present God are silly creatures. Some response — if merely a poem of lament — was necessary.

This is a sad time for many I love. The pain is shared and felt deeply, but need not be without purpose.

This Pleasant Plain

This evening, I leaned heavily on a friend for his perspective and advice. As with all wise men, he listened as much as he talked. Good questions are hard to formulate; good answers, harder still. The photo is of the Sangre de Cristos, taken on the return from one of my many mountain-climbing trips.

I read the poem to my friend. As a veteran of many climbs, he recognized the imagery. More importantly, as a veteran of the deepest valleys he recognized questions and opportunity that come when we reach inflection points in life.

This evening, I leaned heavily on a friend for his perspective and advice. As with all wise men, he listened as much as he talked. Good questions are hard to formulate; good answers, harder still. The photo is of the Sangre de Cristos, taken on one of our many mountain climbing trips.