How do you say goodbye? Part I

Jess: It’s been almost three weeks since our friend Corbin took his own life, and I just now feel like I can put words down about it. I just now feel like I have my thoughts sorted out enough to write.

Corbin has been our friend since 2006. He and Wes were in the same class in college, he dated one of our other friends, and he was roommates with others. He came to our wedding. He and two of our other friends were our first out-of-state visitors when Wes and I moved to New Jersey. He helped us move into our house in Kyle. Most recently, he was James’ live-in nanny for six months during this crazy year.

And now there will be no new stories about Corbin. When our next friends get married or have babies, Corbin won’t be there to celebrate. When we gather together for New Year’s and other events, Corbin won’t be with us. There is going to be a hole in our lives forever.

We have a really tight-knit group of about 20 friends from college. Many of us married each other, we have all lived with various individuals or sets of the group, some are siblings, we get together once a month on Skype or Google+ to talk, and when we come together for an event, it’s like no time has passed since the last time we were together. There are people in this world who are lucky to have just one friend like that. And we have 20!

The upside to this during the last few weeks has been that we have had one another to fall back on. Most of us were able to attend the funeral and be together for that time.

The downside is that every single one of us feels this loss deeply. We’re never going to be the same.

And you know what? I’m mad. I’m mad that Corbin, surrounded by this wonderful group of friends, didn’t feel like he could talk to us about his struggles. I’m mad that he did this incredibly selfish thing. I’m mad that there was probably nothing we could have done and definitely nothing we can do now.

And I’m deeply, deeply sad. I’m sad that my friend is gone. I’m sad for the hole we will always feel because of this loss. I’m sad that James, who loved having his Uncle Corbin right in the next room, will never really get to know him. I’m sad that Corbin’s parents, sister, grandparents, etc. had to go through this and will have to deal with his loss for the rest of their lives. I’m sad that his nephew and niece won’t know him. I’m sad for what the world lost—a brilliant, funny, witty, sweet, fun, wonderful man. I’m sad that we won’t get to celebrate his marriage or the birth of his children, that we won’t be able to support him during the tough times and rejoice during the wonderful ones.

But, through all the anger and sadness, the guilt and the confusion, I remember one thing. We read Romans 8 during Corbin’s funeral, and the words that will never be the same to me have cropped up seemingly everywhere in the intervening weeks: “For I am convinced that neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor rulers, nor things present, nor things to come, nor powers, nor height, nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord.” Corbin’s death doesn’t separate him from the love of God. Neither does it, ultimately, separate him from us. We will see Corbin again, and just think of all the things we’ll have to tell him!

(Wes will be writing at a later time)

What's the main thing?

Jess: It’s been awhile since we’ve bothered to do a blog on any sort of current event, but we've been talking a lot about the Hobby Lobby suit. If you don’t know what happened, here’s a summary of the action.

The internet was afire with responses to this decision seconds after it was announced. As the Justice Ginsburg stated, this decision seems to open the way for all sorts of “religions” and “religious reasons” for not following federal laws. This is a huge concern for many, and it is definitely one that bothers me. What if I worked for a company owned by Christians who think women should be submissive to their husbands, never seeking employment outside of the home? Is this religious belief also covered?

Wes and I will get our insurance through our religious entity. Thankfully, neither Lutherans nor Methodists are against birth control—in fact we both support it as a responsible way to engage in sexual activity.  But if birth control were not covered, we would have the means to cover it from our own pockets. Many are not so lucky—particularly those who work in low-paying retail jobs. And the fact of the matter is that people working in these jobs, who cannot afford to purchase birth control, also cannot afford to support a child.

I recently heard someone say that many people who claim to be pro-life are actually pro-birth. The thought of ending life before it truly begins goes against everything they believe in, and so they work against it. I think that upholding the sacredness of human life is definitely an important value, and one that Christians should have. We believe that we are made in the image of our Creator, so we are called to treat others as if they were God. And yet, there is more to life than being born. There is also more at stake for pregnant women than we acknowledge.

My concern is manifold. First, a group of people who happen to own a profit-making company are forcing their ideals on anyone who works there. They now have control over what their insurance supports and what kind of coverage individuals get. Although I support Hobby Lobby for other decisions its owners make on religious principles (being closed on Sundays and holidays so that, at least from their end, employees are guaranteed days off; paying a living wage; a CEO who isn’t a complete  glutton), religious views should not allow a profit-making company to avoid obeying the law. Secondly, I am concerned for all the Hobby Lobby employees who will not get coverage they might need and therefore bring children into the world that they cannot support. Thirdly, I do not like the implication that any one person (or group’s) religious views should dictate the lives of others.

But more than any of that, there is something deeply wrong with a theology that decides that all people need to have children simply because that is the outcome (for some) of sexual intercourse. Yes, God told us to “be fruitful and multiply,” but God said this in the context of an unpopulated world. What we frequently neglect is the second part of God’s command that says, “fill the earth and subdue it.” You know what? We have filled the earth. We are now at the point of overfilling, and therefore destroying, the earth. Not everyone needs to have children. Certainly not everyone needs to have the maximum amount of children possible. For some people, that is good. For others, not having children is good. Some people desperately want to have children and can’t. Others desperately want to stop having children and are now facing one more roadblock on that road. Perhaps we should be less concerned about what every woman’s uterus is doing (or not doing) and more concerned with how we are doing with that whole caring for creation thing…

Wes: I heard someone say this week that anyone who will not allow the use of contraceptives and anyone who is vehemently against every kind of abortion and yet does not have a home full of adopted children is a hypocrite and a liar.

I’m going to let that sink in for a second, because it took a second for it to sink in when I first heard it.

Now, I don’t think I would go that far, but it does bring up a very good point. We focus on the microcosm of the uterus quite a lot, and seem to miss the macrocosm of injustice around us.

We talk a lot in the church world about the sanctity of life. Life is a gift from God, and we need to cherish it. Jesus Christ came so that we might have life, and have it abundantly. This is one vein of the argument against birth control and abortion—one that I’ve heard many times. And you know what? I could not agree more. Life is sacred. We should be doing everything we can to make sure that everyone alive has a chance to live the most amazing life possible.

So why is it that our country—our world!—is full of children without homes?

So why is it that we allow poverty and homelessness to ruin lives and run rampant around us?

So why is it that we are not giving of our excess to those who do not have enough to feed their families?

Are not all of these things effecting and impeding the sanctity of life, and life lived to its fullest?

Why is it that the majority of my Facebook friends—myself and other pastors included—are paying more attention to the World Cup than we are about the fact that the ISIS, a group so militant that the Al Qaeda called them extremists, has carved out a chunk of land in the Middle East and is ruling by brute force?

Why is it that the church in the US presents itself as caring more about Hobby Lobby and birth control than we care about the fact that peace talks in the Ukraine and Israel/Palestine have once again broken down into violent attacks?

We—and by “we” I mean Christians in the USA today—have a problem with picking and choosing the wrong hills upon which to die. Our triage system is broken, and our justice sensors are too busy focusing on the (wrongfully perceived) persecution of a people who were told that they would be persecuted to see that the world is dying around us and we are doing next to nothing to preserve the sanctity of that life.

This is a problem. And it’s a problem I know I am guilty of spreading. I just hope I am in some way contributing more to the solution.