The story of Joseph is filled with tragic betrayal. His brothers plotted to kill him, opting instead to sell him into slavery. For twenty years he was held in an Egyptian prison, forgotten and feeling his soul was eroding day by day. But what if Joseph and his brothers loved and respected each other, instead of being driven by jealous rage? Joseph remains in Canaan, but the family starves from the seven years of famine. Thus, sometimes the bad in our life opens doors to something better.
The story of Daniel is filled with horrific separation anxiety. He was part of the first flight of Israelites exiled to the foreign pagan land of Babylon. If Israel stays 70 years, Daniel must have been 12-15 years old when ripped from his home where he spends his life in service to an arrogant pagan king who raped and desecrated the Holy Lands. Something to ponder is that if Daniel had stayed behind in Jerusalem, he never would have been the good influence on Nebuchadnezzar. Thus, sometimes the bad in our life opens doors to something better.
The story of Paul is filled with prison sentences, though this time the setting was likely a house arrest. Given the choice, he’d much rather be out on the streets preaching, or in the Synagogue debating, or in the marketplace sharing the gospel. Instead, he found himself chained to his seat and his only audience was an uninterested guard, forced to waste the day away listening to his prisoner’s ongoing ranting about a death-row Jew in Jerusalem. But if Paul was to experience his freedom, it’s possible that the whole palace guard might never had heard the gospel. Thus, sometimes the bad in our life opens doors to something better.
The story of Jesus is filled with the One releasing his grip on power. He was God but refused to grasp or cling to that status at all costs. Instead, he embraced humility and service while submitting to the gruesome cruel death of a crucifixion. Had Jesus remained in heaven, not only would our sins go unforgiven, but he would not have defeated death and ushered in the power of the Resurrection. Thus, sometimes the bad in our life opens doors to something better.
JRR Tolkien coined the word, “eucatrastrophy.” An oversimplified definition says it’s means “a good catastrophe.” Something really bad happens and we lose hope. But suddenly, out of the disaster, something good or wonderful happens that we were not expecting (which is not an “ everything happens for a reason” theology, but a God “redeeming the bad” theology), because sometimes the bad in our life opens doors to something better.
One of my favorite bands is Chicago, which is fresh on my mind since my family recently saw them in concert. Chicago has been around most of my life. Songs like “Make Me Smile,” “Saturday in the Park” and “Alive Again” were part of the playlist of my childhood. “25 or 6 to 4” was on the Set List of my high school’s pep band, and I can still hear my brother’s trombone carrying the introduction theme line. One of the most creative album covers ever is their Greatest Hits which humorously shows the band members trying to paint their logo on a building as chaos ensues. The songs matched the quality of the album artwork.
Their seventeenth album skyrocketed with hits like “You’re the Inspiration,” “Hard Habit to Break,” and “Along Comes A Woman.” They rode success as easily as John Wayne road a horse. Sort of. Sadly, internal feuding led to Peter Cetera’s departure. When Chicago 18 arrived, it was good but not a great album. “Will You Still Love Me” hit number three, but a remix of “25 or 6 to 4” polarized fans.
That said, the song that grated my nerves was, “If She Would Have Been Faithful.” It was a breakup song written from the man’s POV, making the song suspect to begin with. The song reveals how girl cheated on the man. Landing on his feet, he finds another love who ends up being a better person to spend his life with. Cueing the song, if she would have been faithful to the man, they never would have broken up. Never breaking up means he never would have met the current girl and he never would have found new love. Now he has discovered true love. Ugh! The cheesy song broke the top twenty, but if it pops up on my playlist, I’m likely to skip it.
A year ago, I was driving down Highway 823 when the song started to play. No, I didn’t skip it – probably should have. As I was listening to the song, the words suddenly took on new meaning. Instead of a breakup song between a man and a woman, I saw me as the victim of a breakup – not with a girl, but with a church.
In short, felt like the church leaders chose to make big issues out of small differences of opinions. Instead of working through the uncertain void, or pursuing the situation through a principled prism, they chose instead to live without the tension. They broke up with me.
No words or song lyrics could capture how crushed and wounded I was by the decision. I was hurt far more than most people realized. I was damaged, not just from this one moment in time but from the accumulation of thirty years of service to the church.
But time passed, and time has a way of healing wounds. More so, sometimes the bad in our life opens doors to something better. I began working as a hospice chaplain. Some of my skill sets easily transferred from work to hospice care, but new skills were needed and developed. The context was different from working in a church environment to a business setting. I made the transition. Sometimes I succeeded while other times I struggled. But given time, I adjusted to my new profession.
So I was driving down Highway 823 when this Chicago song, I so hated, started to play. Instead of skipping it, I decided to allow it to play out. Instantly, I experienced an epiphany as I saw myself the victim in the song – if they would have been faithful and not broken up with me . . .
- I’d still be preaching;
- I’d still be struggling to overcome deep depression and astronomical anxiety;
- I’d still be worried that the other shoe was still about to drop;
- My children would still be carrying with them the burden of being “preacher kids;”
- I’d still be vastly underpaid and overworked, with no real financial future.
If I they would have been faithful; if they would have been true, and I stayed there like I wanted, I never would have discovered another love, maybe even a better love. If they would have been faithful, I would have missed out on you (i.e., Heartland Hospice). I never would have applied to Heartland (I didn’t even know it existed). George Vastine would never have called to vet me, and I never would have interviewed and accepted this position. I never would have made new friends, some of whom mean more to me than simply co-workers. Clearly, what I have learned in the past three years is that sometimes the bad in our life opens doors to something better. A lot better.