Reflection #9: The Computer has Changed So Much

My adult life has basically spanned the history of the personal computer. In my final years of seminary education I wrote my papers on a Commodore 64, using a dot-matrix printer with tractor-fed paper. Compared to today’s computers that early machine couldn’t do very much, very fast - but in those days I was very grateful to be able to edit an assignment using those early word processing programs. That early computer saved me the hassle of having to retype a whole page (or sometimes a whole paper!) In those early years I also began experimenting with music software, creating music with sequencing programs - using MIDI synths and percussion modules. Often these MIDI tracks were synced to a multi-track cassette machine for my early recording experiments. I even had a rudimentary notation program that allowed me to do some basic transposing and arranging of printed music. Suddenly I was less reliant on others, I could do a number of things myself using this new technology. This has been both the blessing and curse of computers entering my life.

In the early years of my ministry bulletins and church newsletters had to be typed – thus all layout was done by the cut and paste method. That was familiar to me because of my work on school yearbooks as a teenager. In my early years at Christ Lutheran Church I remember hunting for appropriate graphics, re-sizing them on the photocopier and literally piecing The Broadcaster together (our church’s quarterly newsletter). Then a young member of the congregation got a computer and bought some graphic design software – this led to me still working late into the night, but now I was sitting beside George Flengeris in the basement of his mother’s house using a mouse to move elements of the newsletter around - no more scissors and glue, no more worrying about wrecking the only copy of an article. The computer meant some freedom from those types of worries, but soon new concerns cropped up. What was happening was the computer was raising my level of expectation – what would have been acceptable layout and design in the cut and paste era now looked to shoddy and unprofessional. The computer allowed me to express my perfectionism in a new way. (I used to think I wasn’t really a perfectionist, but since I’ve started using computers I find that I can obsess over details that probably don’t matter that much to the average person – especially in the realm of graphic layout or music recording.) The temptation has become to make things “as good as possible” and with computers there is always more tweaking that can be done.

I’m now discovering a new version of this problem in the area of photo processing. Back when I shot 35mm slide film, the picture either looked good when projected or printed, or it didn’t. Now with software like Photoshop I can tweak pictures endlessly – and this can actually hinder the joy of photography if I’m not careful. I can end up spending hours in front of a computer screen trying to fix up pictures to be as perfect as possible (not what I particularly enjoy) or I could be outside in nature using that time to take more pictures (which is my favourite aspect of photography.)

Computers were supposed to be labour-saving devices, but so too were washing machines. A strange thing happened when washing machines arrived on the scene, what was once considered ‘clean enough’ now became identified as dirty, and an item of clothing worn once was tossed in the wash. Rather than decrease the workload, because of the change in expectation, the workload actually increased! So too with computers, rather than change the workload, they simply changed the way we worked. Rather than reduce the amount of time we spent working they simply added to the amount of work we could do on our own, and in many ways we work more now because of computers than before they existed.

If I was to sum up how computers have changed my ministry in one word, it would be communication. Computers have given me more communication tools. I now have so many different ways to communicate with others. I can still work up a letter on my computer, print it off and mail it, but far more likely I will compose an email and fire it off at any time of day or night. I have used Skype to participate in meetings (saving me the time and expense of traveling to a meeting in another city – though I’m not convinced yet that meeting this way is as helpful as being all in the same room together). I use the internet to gather and disseminate information, the latter being done mostly through web pages and blogs like this one. I have even discovered the value of social media like Facebook, a way to keep in touch with friends and parishioners. This past year I even engaged in some online pastoral counseling using Facebook chat – I never would have predicted that possibility five years ago.

The downside of this wealth of communication tools is that we are always available, and immediate replies are beginning to be expected. Thus if I am not intentional about avoiding email and such on my day off, I never really get a day off. In some ways this is similar to the consumer world we live in with stores being open for more and more hours in a week. Now we expect to be able to purchase whatever we need or want whenever that need or want becomes apparent. There was a day and age when stores in my home town were closed for 2 or more days of the week – and yet everyone got what they needed. Now my home town has large grocery stores that are open 24/7 – who needs to buy groceries at 3 AM? But amazingly, if it is open they will come – even at 3 AM. So now we take that same “get it when you want it” attitude and apply it to communications and we expect instant replies. Is there a price to be paid for being always available? I suspect there is, and it comes in the form of higher stress levels, among other things.

So would I give up my computer? No way! For all its problems I have come to rely on this machine for the way I do much of my work. I arrange and transpose music for use in worship using the computer. I keep in contact with the various groups I am in charge of at the church using the computer. I do all my record keeping using the computer. I create services and sermons using the computer. I design posters and brochures for various programs of the church using the computer. I do Bible study using the computer. In fact the largest single portion of my work schedule is probably spent in front of the computer screen. 25 years ago I would not have seen that development. The computer has become an indispensable tool in ministry, but in the end it is still about the people, not the tool – and that will never change.

A Little Pre-Service Ritual of Mine

Humans seem to need ritual, we engage in ritual action in many ways and many contexts – from religion to sports, from ancient to current, from communal to personal. It is interesting for me to learn of pre-game rituals developed by athletes – everything from listening to a certain type of music, to eating certain foods, to putting on part of their uniform a certain way. Some of these pre-game rituals seem silly, or even superstitious - others make sense as a way of helping the athlete mentally and physically prepare for the game.

There is a pre-service ritual that I use to prepare for leading worship, something I have done for many years now. I’m not sure exactly when I started this ritual or even where it came from - it is possible that it is something that I spontaneously did one Sunday and because it was helpful I have continued ever since. I have decided to share this ritual on this blog because I hope it will be helpful to others – for the parishioners who wonder what I’m doing up front on a Sunday morning, and for other clergy who might choose to make this ritual part of their pre-worship routine.

It has been the practice at Christ Lutheran Church for as long as I have been here (over a quarter century now) that prior to the worship service starting the pastors will kneel at the altar rail for a moment before beginning the service. It is safe to say that most people would assume the pastors are praying, but what exactly are they praying? This is where my ritual comes in.

When I kneel at the altar I close my eyes to block out as much distraction as possible, then I take a deep breath in – this is how the ritual begins. Once my lungs are full I begin to exhale slowly through my mouth – as I focus on my breath leaving my body I repeat in my mind these words “I empty myself that I might be filled by you.” This is my simple prayer, repeated in my mind until I have emptied myself, as much as possible, of my breath. Then I begin to breathe in slowly and fully through my nostrils - as I draw in this breath I silently pray the words “Fill me that I might serve you” repeating that prayer until my lungs are full again. When this breathing prayer is finished I rise from my kneeling position and begin the worship service.

This is the meaning I give my little ritual: By breathing out through my mouth I imagine getting rid of all “my stuff” – I do not want the worship I am responsible to lead filled with “my words, my motives, my needs.” I recall Jesus’ words “what comes out of the mouth proceeds from the heart, and this is what defiles.” (Matthew 15:18) When I pray “I empty myself” these are the kinds of things I am thinking of.

For me the inward breath recalls the intimate scene in Genesis 2:7 where “the Lord God formed man from the dust of the ground, and breathed into his nostrils the breath of life.” The life-giving Spirit is given through the nostrils, the breath of God filling us with life and love. This prayer then is an invitation for the Holy Spirit to fill me, to guide me, to use me – that my words and actions will be shaped by the inspiration of God’s Spirit.

The simple ritual prayer action now completed I stand centered in the presence of God, assured of the Spirit’s leading, and prepared to share the Gospel of Jesus Christ with all who are gathered – I am ready, let the service begin!

Reflection #8: Music Became More Private, More Performance, Less Participation

Anyone who knows me knows that music has been a significant part of my ministry - actually more than that - music has been a significant part of my life. I grew up with music all around me – my grandmother and great aunt played the organ at church, my father directed the choir and played in a marching band, one uncle played guitar like Chet Atkins, another uncle played bass and banjo in dance bands – always there was music surrounding me. It should be no surprise that I began piano lessons when I was six and I have been involved in making music ever since.

I remember playing duets with my dad, him on accordion and me on piano – just for fun. We would improvise our own arrangements of everything from boogie-woogie tunes to southern gospel standards. We made music, we didn’t just listen. And many other people I knew made music, they created music rather than just listening to it. Sitting in the pew on Sunday morning I would soak in the sound of the congregation singing great hymns of the faith or parts of the liturgy in four (or more) part harmony. Everyone sang, at least that’s how it seemed.

When I was a child portable music became a reality with transistor radios. However, you still had to listen to someone else’s choice of music. What a personal revolution when a few years later the first Walkman’s arrived - now a person could choose the music they listened to all of the time. The digital age took this to a whole new level, I currently have almost all of my extensive CD collection on my iPod. Now I can literally listen to anything from my collection at anytime, and with the internet at my finger tips I can access pretty well any music I want at any time. As one social commentator recently observed, we now create our own unique soundtrack to our lives through our portable music players – listening to our specific mix of music, without any interference (or participation) from anyone else.

The biggest change I’ve seen to music in ministry over the past 25 years is that it has moved away from participatory music to performance music. When I look out over the congregation on a Sunday morning service it amazes me how many people aren’t even trying to sing! When I ask the congregation to stand and sing a certain hymn or song they will dutifully stand, but then some just stand there with their mouths closed the whole time. Perhaps they feel they can’t sing, or more accurately, they can’t sing good enough. One of the problems of having access to professionally recorded music all the time, is that we have surrounded ourselves with an unrealistic standard – few people can sing like those folks on recordings, and truth be told, even they can’t sing like that (instead using auto tune devices and various recording techniques to achieve a perfect performance). Shows like American (or Canadian) Idol teach us that even really good singers get kicked off the stage, so if you can’t sing like the best, then it’s best to keep quiet so as to not embarrass yourself or irritate others. This self-defeating way of thinking is one negative repercussion of the easy access we have to recorded music in our culture.

It is sad that even in the church fewer and fewer people are discovering the joy of making music together. If people can’t be imperfect in their music making in the church, then where can they? Are not the gathered people of God encouraged to “make a joyful noise”? (see Psalms 95, 98 & 100) Is it possible to reclaim some of the sense of communal music making in the future? Can we move away from a performance based approach to music in worship, to one that is intentionally inclusive of all, both the skilled musicians and those who feel they have no musical ability? I’m not completely sure how we get there (though I have some ideas), I just hope music doesn’t end up in the hands of the professionals only. The joy of music would be gutted with such a scenario. In a paper titled “Music, Worship and Martin Luther” Charles St-Onge sums up Luther’s intention:

Luther encouraged the use of music in the church’s worship. This is not at all to imply that music was not part of worship before his reforms. However, music had been to a certain extent relegated to ‘professionals’ and taken away from the people. What Luther wanted to restore was the involvement of the people in the worship of God. Communion in Christ’s blood was not to be reserved for a special priestly class; even less was the praise of the people to be restricted to a special musical class.

Music in worship should be primarily participatory, which is not to say there is no place for a choir anthem or vocal solo, but worship music should mostly be that which encourages and makes possible the full involvement of all who are gathered. In a culture that allows everyone to listen to music that suits their taste to the exclusion of all else this becomes more and more difficult to achieve. In order to participate in music a person must feel comfortable with the style and confident in the leadership. Since there is no longer a single style of music that is comfortable for all generations, and since people can be totally tuned out of the music they don’t like, what is a congregation to do? Insisting on hymns from two or more centuries ago led by an organist is not going to be comfortable or familiar with a significant segment of the population. On the other hand insisting on only contemporary worship music led with a full band will also alienate a whole group of people who simply do not feel comfortable or familiar with that style of music, no matter how well intentioned it is. These are only two of the many possible stylistic clashes that have created tension in the North American church over the past 3 decades. This seems irresolvable.

I feel fortunate that my musical training and experience has been very broad, and that there are few styles of music I am not familiar or comfortable with. I grew up learning classical music, while at the same time surrounded by rock, country and gospel music. In my later teen years I became interested in jazz and electronic music, at college I was immersed in choral music – from ancient to contemporary. Such a diverse exposure to music has allowed me to work in a wide variety of contexts, including a wide range of worship settings. Observing worship music from many angles I have reached the conclusion that it is possible to re-involve people in music regardless of style, but it must be intentional, it must be the primary desire of the musician(s). It also requires gentleness, persistence and patience as people become acquainted with music they may not be familiar with. With intentionality and practice, sensitivity and skill, even today’s congregations, populated by people who culture has trained to be a passive audience, can be encouraged to discover the joy of participating in the musical expression of the people of God. This seems to me to be the challenge of the future – to help people to re-engage in the gift of music, that of which Martin Luther wrote “Next to the Word of God, the noble art of music is the greatest treasure in the world.” May we continuously strive to share that treasure with all.

Reflection #7: The Pastor is No Longer on a Pedestal (But Maybe a Footstool)

When I was a young child pastors were always referred to by their title then last name - thus for me it was Pastor Lokken. This was the way everyone referred to the minister, it was a sign of respect and honor. By the time I was a teenager I was calling our new pastor P.B. (short for Pastor Berg). This nickname was not seen as disrespectful, but rather a term of endearment, and this was only possible because attitudes towards clergy were changing. No longer were pastors considered people who were above their congregations, a superior persons spiritually and intellectually, rather clergy were beginning to be seen as average (dare I say "normal") people. A pastor was now regarded as someone who had an important vocation, but no more important than other vocations (bringing Luther's teaching on The Priesthood of All Believers more to the fore).

There are times when I wonder what it would have been like to have served the church in the era of Herr Pastor, I'm not sure I would have liked it. I'm not sure I would have entered seminary if I sensed that somehow I would end up being treated differently (and expected to act differently) than everyone else. To live with the pressure of being the person on the pedestal would have been too much for me. I sometimes think that level of respect would be nice, especially in contrast to the lack of respect or sense of disregard that seems to be prevalent today (here I'm referring to society in general, not behaviour within the church). As I consider this further however, I would rather take being regarded the same as others over the social straitjacket of being placed on a pedestal.

The way things are now I feel I can have real conversations with people (most of the time), and people don't feel like they need to change their behaviour around me (though that impulse still shows up from time to time). The other benefit to the current lowering of the pastoral pedestal is that it allows for the conceiving of partnership in ministry between the clergy and lay people - a partnership that allows all participants to feel they can contribute an equal and valid part. While it remains true that within a congregation a pastor may be the most trained theologically person (and theological reflection being their contribution to the whole) this does not mean that the pastor is expected to know everything (and do everything). In the past I think that too much was left up to the clergy and ministry was too often placed solely into the hands of the professionals.

Contrast this with the picture of Jesus' chosen leaders, they were anything but professional religious leaders. They were anything but perfect. They were average humans given an extraordinary calling. Their calling did not change their ordinariness, they still remained imperfect humans stumbling along on this mission, yet God worked through such folks, and I believe that God continues to work through the ordinary humans who are called into ministry.

I know all too well that just because I am a pastor I am not better than others - I make mistakes, I get tired, I don't have all the answers. For the most part people today understand this and yet occasionally the pedestal comes out again (though it is not as high as in earlier years, maybe it's more like a footstool now). I suppose there is a natural impulse to want to see leaders as somehow better versions of ourselves. We want to be assured that the one pointing the direction sees more than we do, knows more than we know, is stronger than we feel, is a head above all others. It would be easy to follow such a leader, but there is a danger in this impulse, and the danger is that we can end up shifting our trust and faith from Jesus to one of Jesus' followers. It is important that if anyone is put on a pedestal that it be Jesus. And actually (in a manner of speaking) this has already happened. As John wrote in his Gospel Jesus was lifted up for all to see (see John 3:14 and 12:32-33) however it was no pedestal, rather it was a cross.

The call to follow Jesus is a call to pick up our cross (not our pedestal) and follow him. This requires an attitude of humility, and being on a pedestal can erode any sense of humbleness quickly. So while I sometimes think things would be easier if people gave me respect simply for the office I fill, I would rather things function as they do now - allowing pastors and lay people to walk together this journey of faith, picking each other up when we stumble, and always looking ahead to where our leader and Lord has led the way. At the foot of his cross we are all on level ground.

The Heavens Declare

At the annual Study Conference for Clergy and Professional Lay Leaders for the Saskatchewan Synod, held in Manitou Springs this week, I was able to fulfill one of my life long hopes - to capture a display of Northern Lights with my camera. (If you click on the picture it should take you to a larger version of the image.) I was able to take a number of pictures before the display faded, but this one is my favourite.

The Aurora Borealis have been something that has touched my spirit since I first saw them as a teenager. (To read the whole story check out my earlier post Night Celebration). One of the portions of scripture that comes to mind every time I see a beautiful display of the Northern Lights is from Psalm 19. I share the words of that Psalm in connection with this image from the other night.

^The heavens declare the glory of God;

the skies proclaim the work of his hands.

^Day after day they pour forth speech;

night after night they display knowledge.

^There is no speech or language

where their voice is not heard.

^Their voice^

goes out into all the earth,

their words to the ends of the world.

(Psalm 19:1-4a New International Version)

Reflection #6: Denominational Pride Goes Before a (Hypo)critical Fall

Crosswalk 2011 - Rosemont Ecumencial Good Friday Procession & Worship

One of my early church memories is attending what were called Reformation Rallies. These were occasions when all the Lutheran churches in the area would gather together (usually on Reformation Sunday if I remember correctly) and give thanks to God that we were Lutherans. Those Reformation Rallies had a definite tone of "We're better than all those other churches," and that sense of Lutheran superiority sunk in deep to my young mind. In those early years I would tell my school mates who attended other denominations that their church was not as good as my church (even if I had never been to their church... I just knew!) Looking back on those days I am glad we have moved beyond such church tribalism, at least to some degree.

Looking down on other denominations has caused a bad smell of hypocrisy to linger far too long in the North American church. This culture of church competition rather than church cooperation does not line up with the command to love others as you love yourself - even (or especially) those who do not "go to church" pick up on that! As I have heard many people ask "Don't you all believe in the same God?"

It is because of the offensive odour of ecclesiastical arrogance that I do not think it is a bad thing that denominationalism appears to be fading (at least in some ways). Partly this decline in denominational exclusivism is due to the need to work together as we all are suffering from shrinking resources. Partly this is due to the simple reality of interdenominational marriage. At the beginning of my ministry there were still pockets of Lutheranism that thought it a terrible thing to marry outside our church, but now parents are just glad if their child marries someone who goes to church period!

Denominational pride grows out of dualistic thinking, the impulse to separate everything into right and wrong, thus if my church is right then the other churches must be wrong. So we set about proving to ourselves (and anyone who would listen) why our church denomination is the "right" one. Meanwhile the mission of the church gets set aside, or worse, changed. Jesus did not ask us to make more Lutherans, or Catholics, or Baptists, or Pentecostals... we are simply asked to make disciples of Jesus. Denominational divisions don't enter into the great commission at all (Matthew 28:18-20).

While there are certainly things about the Lutheran church, and Lutheran approach to theology that I deeply appreciate (and would be hard pressed to give up), I have also come to realize that other church bodies have good and important gifts to offer for our common mission. Last year our local Ecumenical Group planned a joint Good Friday procession and worship service (see the picture above). Walking together through our neighbourhood from church to church there was a great deal of excitement, respect and curiosity. "What would happen at the next church?" At each stop along the processional route there was an expression of faith that was both unique to that denomination and common to all. While the song might not be familiar, the meaning of the lyrics resonated. While the prayers might be led differently than one was used to, the intent of the prayers was clear. While the ritual actions at each stop varied, the same focus was evident - this was about Jesus Christ, the very source of unity, the very reason we were walking and worshipping together in the first place. It truly was a 'good' Friday.

When we are excessively proud of our own denomination, our pride can blind us from the good in other church bodies. It is not so much that any one denomination is the "right" one, rather we simply have different gifts to be used for the sake of the whole. I have seen evidence of God at work in all kinds of churches, in all kinds of settings, in all kinds of people. God is no respecter of church divisions - wherever the people of God gather to seek and do the will of God, there is God in the midst of them. Whenever and wherever people gather to worship Jesus Christ, the Holy Spirit flows - sometimes powerfully, sometimes surprisingly, sometimes quietly, often mysteriously, but always active.

As I look to the future I hope that we would learn to care less about being right than being helpful, that we would consider our identity as Christian first and foremost, before thinking of ourselves as a specific branch of the Christian family. I pray that we would find a healthy balance between gratitude for the good aspects of our particular denomination and an openness to the good aspects of others. I encourage all Christians to be humble enough to admit that God will, and indeed is, working in places and people that might be very unfamiliar, or even uncomfortable, for us.

It will be important in the future not to depend on "brand loyalty" to maintain the mission of the church. Already people are much less concerned about what name is on the building - instead they are concerned about how the people who gather in that building function as a people of faith. They are looking, not for a denomination first and foremost, but for a church. They are looking for a group of people with whom they can share and practice their faith, and they are doing so with less and less regard for historical divisions. Whatever happens in the future our call remains: we are to be centered in the Gospel with as much creativity, integrity and energy as possible. That call surpasses all denominational boundaries.

Lest anyone get the wrong idea, I am truly grateful to have been part of the Lutheran church my whole life, but I am also grateful that I have come to understand and experience that my family of faith is much larger than that.

Reflection #5: Not All Suffering is the Same

Probably the biggest question we face as humans, and more specifically as theologians, is the question of suffering. "Why do people suffer?" Or in the words of Rabbi Harold Kushner "Why do bad things happen to good people?" As I have wrestled with this question over the years I have come to realize that not all suffering is the same, thus this question is much more complex than it originally sounds.

Much human suffering can be explained by human sinfulness, choices made out of self-centeredness that have a negative impact on ourselves and others. This can be seen in the both the personal and communal spheres of life. For example, one person can choose to be abusive towards another - which obviously causes suffering for the victim. On a communal level, behaviour of one group of people can have harmful consequences on another. For example, a manufacturing company may choose to dump toxins into a local river because it is a quick and easy (thus profitable) way to deal with waste - but this creates suffering for others as pollutants enter the environment and cause health problems and worse. So in these examples, the answer to the question "Why is there suffering?" is "Because certain humans made harmful choices."

Tracing the cycle of abuse through the generations shows how suffering resulting from sinful behaviour can perpetuate itself. Thus in one sense "visiting the iniquity of the parents upon the children to the third and the fourth generation." (Numbers 4:18) describes this cycle of suffering. In a communal example, choices made by previous generations have impact on future generations, of particular concern these days is how our choices regarding our impact on the environment will negatively affect life on earth down the road.

Harmful and destructive choices of humans gives us, at least a partial, answer to the question of suffering. Even terrible tragedies like airplane crashes can be traced back to a human desire to quickly move ourselves and goods around the world in a manner that, if anything goes wrong, could have serious consequences. Thus our desire for instant gratification means we choose to pack ourselves inside metal tubes with wings and hurl ourselves through the air at incredible speed and heights (even though we all know that mechanical devices sometimes fail). While not sinful in the sense of going against God's will, this example still shows a willingness to put ourselves and others at risk for self-centered reasons. Every time we get into a car we exhibit the same manner of choice on a smaller scale. Our choices, even choices that intend no harm, can lead to suffering.

There is, however, some suffering that cannot be easily explained by human choices. Natural disasters is one. Earthquakes, tornadoes, tsunamis - forces of nature that are not created by humans, yet can cause great human suffering. "Why does God allow such events to take place, events that cause huge loss of life and property?" In the face of such suffering there is no easy answer. The fundamentalist impulse is to claim such suffering as punishment sent from God for some kind of sinful behaviour. Too bad those who makes such claims publicly always identify as the cause of the suffering something that others (rather than themselves) are doing wrong. It is easy to see suffering as a form of punishment, which leads to the conclusion that the worse the suffering the greater the wrong-doing must have been. This is the very thinking Jesus warns his disciples against in the first verses of Luke chapter 13.

The suffering I personally have the hardest time coming to terms with is not so much the physical or emotional suffering of people, rather it is the mental suffering. Mental illness can be so devastating, and by its very nature impacts how people make choices. For example, when a paranoid schizophrenic kills another person because a voice in his or her head tells them to, the suffering of one creates the suffering of others, and yet where can the blame be placed? In such a case what possible reason can be given? In cases like this everyone seems to be a victim, everyone seems to suffer.

When faced with the question of suffering I often have the urge to find someone or something to blame. Sometimes I am successful in that quest, but too often I end up drawing a blank. When there is no apparent human reason for suffering the remaining possibility is to blame God. The Bible has plenty of examples of people who shout their anger and frustration at God in the midst of suffering. From Job to the Psalmists, from Prophets to Apostles, all have questioned why they face hard times, why they suffer.

As I find myself asking questions about suffering I need to remember that God has already given an unusual answer. When humans ask God "Why is there suffering?" God answers by becoming flesh and joining us in our pain. As the Apostles' Creed confesses "he suffered under Pontius Pilate." God answers our questions about human suffering, by suffering along side us. It doesn't answer our question in a neat manner, rather it is a messy answer, a bloody answer, a relational and ongoing answer. To remember this does not mean I no longer am bothered by suffering, but it does mean God is aware of the suffering, and that God embraces the suffering and all those impacted by it. In this way suffering is transformed and hope can be restored.

So far this is what I have learned about suffering. Admittedly this understanding about suffering is very limited, and even after 25 years as a pastor I doubt I know much of what suffering truly is. So instead of trying to give answers I have learned mostly to be quiet in the face of suffering - there is little to be said except "I am here with you."