Monday Morning Musing: O Love That Will Not Let Me Go

I know that the title of this reflection is a hymn, but that's not exactly what I'm thinking about this week.

On Ash Wednesday, I had an encounter in worship that has stayed in my heart ever since. I need to begin by saying that as a pastor AND as a Jesus follower, I find this to be one of the most meaningful days in the Church year. That we remember our mortality is a deeply trusting thing. We trust that our inevitable deaths are also held in the hands of the One who holds us in this life. It is the ultimate memento mori.

On my first Ash Wednesday at Gloria Dei, I was privileged to mark with ashes those who came boldly, those who wept as they came, those who stood defiantly, those who lingered at the altar. One woman got a leg cramp and stood up just after I'd marked her saying "ow,ow,ow" and I was sure I had somehow physically hurt her.

But one new little family - mom, dad, and 9-month old baby - came haltingly. They never came fully to the altar rail, rather they lingered back. When I reached for the baby's forehead, the mother swiveled her out of my reach and said "not my baby". Oh, it is a hard thing to think of death when our arms are full of new life.

I know the tenderness that this momma felt. I feel it still for my now-grown kids. Not my baby. No, God. Take the struggles from them, take their disappointments, take their worries and fears and let me shoulder them for them. I will wear their ashes. Not my babies.

But none of us can bear death for the other, not even for our most beloved ones. And that is the tragic tenderness of new faith; that we aren't sure we can trust God with them. But who am I kidding? Some days even I don't trust God with them. I try. I remember that Godself is well acquainted with the death of a child and must weep alongside the deaths of the littlest ones. War must break God's heart.

I've bird walked a bit in this writing, but come back to a fierce love that will not let us go, God's love for us is like that mother's loving instinct, snatching us up from the clutches of the snare of the evil one, saying "not my baby; not my child."

This is a beautiful rendition of O Love That Will Not Let Me Go