The Growing Darkness

I love this stretch of road on Dempster Avenue in Evanston. The way the trees reach over the road... it feels as if you are entering into another world. Even if it is just for a few blocks. I also remember when I first moved to Boston how oppressive these same sort of trees felt. Moving from California and Washington with wide open spaces and coastlines, it was a bit too much at first. A sense of being closed in. Of impending doom.

I imagine this is how the disciples were feelings during Jesus' long speech that extends from John 14-17. Scattered amidst all the words of love and promise were the hints that something terrible was about to happen. That they would be hated by the world. That Jesus would be leaving them. That there would be a betrayal. And a few chapters earlier, a prediction that Jesus would die.

There is hope. On the other side of the grief, there is joy. When Jesus has gone, he will send His Spirit, the comforter and guide. The disciples will become Christ's brothers and sisters in an even deeper way.

If you have been through grief, you hear all these promises. You know what is waiting on the other side. But it does not ease the pain of now. As with this final discourse, you hold both the hope and the grief side by side. One does not negate the other. You do not grieve less because of the hope contained within it. You do not hope less because of your grief. You weep and mourn and laugh and cry all at once. Life is not a game of either or when it comes to emotions. They all bubble over together... sometimes exploding like a bad science experiment. Sometimes producing something beautiful... rich and complex.

Jesus knows about our grief and pain... having walked this path... forward into the looming darkness of the cross. I don't think knowing what was on the other side made it any easier. The pain was real all the same... but still, a glimpse of hope made all the difference.