Wrestling with difficult questions...

Today has been a day for wrestling with questions of morals and ethics.  In class we talked about moral decisions in light of medical advancements and how we face questions today that just weren't around 50 years ago.  So many of our technological advancements have made life profoundly better, but they come at a cost.  Life is longer, but what is the kind of life that is extended?

I am going to connect two thoughts that have been bouncing around in my head, but please understand that I mean no dis-respect.  They are connected primarily out of the timing that they have happened in relation to the class I am taking.

This past weekend my parents had to take the family cat, Shadow, to the vet to be put down.  She was a very old cat and had lost the of her back legs.  My mother had anticipated that Shadow would not be with us much longer, and she was right.  Going to the vet was an act of mercy - she could not bear to see the animal suffer.  I understand and agree that my mother's actions were indeed out of mercy and were I in the same situation (which is now very likely considering I have a cat) I would do the same thing.  Why allow the cat to live if it will only suffer?  

Today in class we basically addressed the same issue at the end of life for many people.  One scenario involved a woman who had advanced stages of cancer that was not responding to chemo.  She then contracts pneumonia and enters the hospital.  The doctors tell the family that if she is not treated for the pneumonia, she will die within a few days.  If she is treated, she will live for a few more months, but will most likely be in a significant amount of pain.  As a class, we were to act as the spiritual advisor to the family that must make the decision.  

In my heart, I know I would have made the decision to not treat the pneumonia.  Why cling to a life that has little left to offer when I truly believe that death is not the end?  If the person has made peace and seem to be ready for whatever is to come, it seems selfish to keep them here.  

Tonight, I watched the coverage of an execution in my home state of South Dakota.  This man brutally raped and murdered a young child over 20 years ago.  He was also convicted of 9 other felony acts.  Not just accused, but convicted.  He was, for all intents and purposes, an evil man.  He committed a heinous crime.  Yet, in my core, I felt killing him did not solve anything or truly bring an end to the pain he has committed.  I watched as the parents of the girl speak after the execution saying that they will never have closure, they will never move on.  They said that he not only took the life of their girl, but their's as well.  The mother spoke of wishing to stab this man rather than letting him die through lethal injection.

They were full of pain and anger.  They were right that this act had robbed them of their lives.  And I agree with them that his death will not bring an end to that pain and suffering.  The death of a sinner cannot bring healing to the living.  It cannot bring peace.  It cannot bring shalom.  

As a Christian, I look through the lens of God's grace and action.  It is not for us to prolong life for our own benefit or needs, nor is it for us to cut it short.  More or less time in this life is not what brings healing, only the grace of God can do that.  We cannot put our hope in medicine or judicial punishment for our salvation, but in God alone.  

Tonight I pray for the family of that little girl - that they may find healing and peace in this lifetime.  I pray for the other victims of the executed, that they may find peace and rest.  I pray for my state that it may come to see other roads to justice as other states have done.  And I pray for all those who must face difficult questions concerning the sanctity of life.  May we all be guided by the Holy Spirit to say "Not my will, but yours be done."

breaking down the same old things...

Have you ever had a bad habit that you just couldn't break?  I have multiple, but the one that keeps coming back no matter how much I try to subdue it is my habit of trying to control everything.  I think the technical term is "control freak."  I prefer to know what is happening and if left to my own devices would not venture into new areas or experience willingly.  So, as you can imagine, I have been having a difficult time adjusting to my new situation because no matter what I do, I cannot control it.

This week has been especially hard in that respect.  I am finally reaching the point where I can accept that why some of this has been so hard is because in an attempt to control my life, I have shut out most of my life.  I focus on homework because I can control when that gets completed.  I can control what I watch on tv or online.  I can control what I eat for my meals if I stay here to eat them.  See?  It's all about control.  Why?  Control is safe and comfortable.

This week I got sick and getting sick always reminds me that I am not in control.  I came here having, for probably the first time in my life, a definite calling and direction for my life.  In two years I can get my degree and get on to what God has planned for me.  That is how I saw it.  And maybe how I still see it for the most part.  However, what slipped in the crack of my control was the idea that what God is calling me to right now is to be here.  I haven't been fully here.  My mind and my heart are strewn over South Dakota and the people that I care about there.  Slowly my connection there has been lessened, as it should be for now.  I cannot be fully here if so much of me, of my time and my concern is there.  Ultimately I am here to go back there and serve, but I cannot be faithful to God's calling on these two years of my life if I don't commit to being here.

I need to stop trying to control everything.  I need to stop trying to hijack my education and be more open to how this school does things.  That doesn't mean I won't think critically, but it does mean I won't reject something outright.  I need to stop being so afraid of the city and take the opportunities given to me to explore and experience what Chicago and Evanston have to offer.  I need to stop operating out of fear and be open to new experiences.  And I need to not be afraid of my own voice.

I miss my home all the time.  I miss my family and my church family who are so supportive.  I hope that I can honor them by allowing God to continually transform me into what I am intended to be.  This step has been painful, but refining is not an easy process.  Metal is refined by fire and I am being refined by the fire of the Holy Spirit.  But as my uncle Jerry would say, "Just think how good it will be when its done."