“All of us die eventually.  Our lives are like water spilled on the ground, which cannot be gathered up again.  But God does not just sweep life away; instead He devises ways to bring us back when we have been separated from Him.” (2 Sam 14:14)

I first came across this verse in early May while reading through the book of 2^nd Samuel.  Although the impact of the words was powerful at the time I read them, powerful enough that I made note of them in my journal, it has taken me until now to gather my thoughts enough to attempt another blog post.

The verses fall in the middle of the “pre-story” to a more familiar story in the Bible about David’s son, Absalom.  Many people may know the account of how Absalom revolted against his father and was killed as he hung by his hair in a terebinth tree.  But before any of that happened, Absalom had fled Jerusalem after killing his sister’s rapist, one of their half-brothers.  Wow! Before the word “dysfunctional” became trendy, this family exemplified it. 

          The words in this verse were spoken by a wise woman who came to try and convince King David to reconcile with his son before it was too late, to allow Absalom to return to Jerusalem.  David did let him come back, but it was years before he would see him.   Even though he finally reconciled with his son, I can only imagine that those years of separation caused David to mourn even more deeply over Absalom’s death.   

          I’m not sure why these words hit me so intensely.  Perhaps it was because I was right in the middle of treatment for what could have been a terminal illness had they not caught it in time (the word “cancer” makes you think morbid thoughts at times); perhaps it was the result of watching some people close to me experience the loneliness and heartbreak of abandonment by family members during special times in their lives, milestones that could have been made more special had they been shared by people once close to them; maybe it was because I was saddened by seeing hatred spewed out on the news and social media by people who stand firmly on opposite sides of issues that they are passionate about.

          Whatever the reason, I was deeply convicted to take a look at the “unreconciled” relationships in my life.  No, I don’t have a rift with a family member that has caused me not to speak to someone in years; I choose a way of life today which recommends clearing the wreckage of your past and making amends for wrongs done others.  I have tried to do that to the best of my ability.  I haven’t done it perfectly I’m sure, but I’m grateful for the absence of glaring regrets with people in my life, past and present. 

          The stirrings of guilt are more subtle.  They come about in those relationships that are not present in my daily life; the ones I’ve convinced myself are resolved, apologies made, did my part, now it’s on them.  Those relationships that are hard work, that require constant effort on my part without ever seeing a return.  At what point do I stop making the calls, sending the notes or messages, rationalize that “it’s in God’s hands”?  I have a verse that nudges me every once in a while: “And let us not grow weary while doing good, for in due season we will reap, if we do not lose heart” (Galatians 6:9). 

          I do admit that I become weary sometimes.  In my humanness I sometimes stomp my feet and say “Why do I always have to be the one to make the call, reach out, take the first step?”  As trite and as cliché as it sounds, when I get out of my own self-centered way, it’s because it’s the “right” thing to do.

          I read a bunch of articles in psychology journals that promote a distinction between “forgiveness” and “reconciliation”; they claim that forgiveness is individual, while reconciliation takes two people to accomplish its goal.  I’m not so concerned any more about those situations in my past where I perceive I’ve been “wronged” or where I’ve hurt someone and need to make it right, where I’ve “forgiven and been forgiven”  I strive more now for the internal sense of peace that comes from knowing that I’ve not been so stubborn or staunch in my opinions on issues (that won’t really matter in the long run) that I’ve created chasms that will never close.  I desire to let go of that pride that has so often tripped me up in the past and ask myself, as Lysa Terkuerst shared in her book Unglued: “Am I trying to prove I’m right, or improve the relationship?” That’s really what this word “reconciliation” means to me today- a reconciling of my thoughts and actions with the command to “love as He has loved us” (1 John 4:11). 

          I went to the funeral for a friend recently, a man who was one of the kindest most genuine people I knew.  The kind of person who makes you want to desperately scoop that spilled water up and put it back in its container because you weren’t ready to let it go yet.  He was posting pictures, working, texting one day.  And then he wasn’t.  He was gone in an instant.  Another harsh reminder that I’m not guaranteed tomorrow.

          So when I stop to reflect, as I try to do daily, just how much love I have been shown, how much I’ve been forgiven, how much of a gift each day truly is, I again feel that prompting.  It has been over 6 months since I read that passage in 2 Samuel and made note of it in my journal.  I admit I haven’t written one note, made one of those “hard” phone calls, didn’t even send out Christmas cards this season.  I had plenty of “good” excuses- it was a long year, one that included chemo and radiation, doctor’s visits and tests.  And the fatigue and fear that accompanied them.  Then there were all the other “distractions”- work, children, church – which I used as justification for not having the energy to reach out.  All these things certainly worthy of my attention, but not to the exclusion of others. 

         

It was never my intention to write this as a “resolution” post.  The timing of finishing it is just coincidental.  But as I move toward the end of 2017 and look to put the challenges of this year behind me it serves as a divinely appointed “chapter break” in the book God is writing about my life.  Perhaps it is one of those ways He has designed to bring me back to him and HIS purposes before the water of my life spills out.

 “Love from the center of who you are; don’t fake it. Run for dear life from evil; hold on for dear life to good. Be good friends who love deeply; practice playing second fiddle. Don’t burn out; keep yourselves fueled and aflame. Be alert servants of the Master, cheerfully expectant. Don’t quit in hard times; pray all the harder.” (Romans 12:9-13a, The Message).