As some of you who have known me for a while know, April 16 is never easy for me. This has been an odd week for me. I’ve been in a bad mood all week, and one thing I have gotten better at through my years of living is getting a sense of when my emotions are wearing thin. I have some things in my wider life that have come or, are coming, to a head. It’s also Holy Week, which is a lot for a preacher.  And today is April 16. I think my soul has felt a lot of this recently. So, to quote the kids, I’ve been in my feels all week.

On April 16, 1978, my biological mother (Mama Sarah) was murdered by my biological father. In the months following that tragedy, I was adopted by her mother (Maxine, whom I call my Mama) and her stepfather (Connie, whom I call Daddy).  Mama Sarah was murdered on Maxine’s birthday and then buried on mine.  
 
That’s a lot, I know. And I have come to realize something recently. I wish that it had not happened.  Let me tell you what I mean by that, and most of you are thinking, well, yeah. 
 
For years, I leaned into what some folks lovingly call “the Jesus Juke.”  What is that? For me, it looked and sounded something like this, “Yes, this is a hard, terrible tragedy.  But God is good in all of these things. He brings good out of all things!  Look at what He has done!”
 
All these things are true.  I believe everything that I said above and that I preached. But I have to come to see that for me, at least, it was a defensive mechanism to not deal with the pain I felt for the loss of the home that I never had. I was thankful to be alive, sure, but I didn’t make room for my heart to sit in the pain.

If we don’t sit and heal from our pain, what happens next is what happened to me: projection. Since I had to do something with the pain I felt, I projected it upon myself. So, for many years, I blamed myself for her death. If I had not been born, then Sarah would not have been leaving that situation, and she would still be alive. So, her death is my fault. 
 
Now, I know that’s not rational.  But my mind did that to me. I silently hated myself for years, blaming myself for her death. It was my fault, mine alone. Instead of being a victim of a tragedy, in my mind, I became the cause of a tragedy.
 
I eventually realized that, and I “moved on.” I didn’t think much about April 16; I got busy, I got moving, and I just lived.  And that was nice.  I didn’t talk much about it; I just shifted away from it. I thought that was where I was going to be for the rest of my life. 
 
But, this year, I’m sad. I don’t really have any words for why. I guess I just am. As my kids grow, as I approach 50, I understand that my life is more than halfway over, and I’ve tried to learn to sit with my feelings, emotions, and thoughts.  Either I will listen and learn from them, or they will conquer and control me. I want to slow down; I want to listen. 
 
I think I’ve just come to see that this is life. It is simply hard sometimes. There are no easy answers or Disney resolutions. I have a wound that is healed, but it still hurts. Just because it is healed doesn’t mean that it doesn’t hurt.  It still does.  I hope that I’m self-aware enough to realize that now.  
 
Which leads me back to where I started. I wish that it had not happened.  But it did. I can’t control that, and honestly, I can’t control the resulting emotions. I can only listen. Grow. Learn.  And let this shape me for good, and hopefully not for ill.  
 
We all want that Damascus Road experience where Jesus takes away everything terrible in our lives. Sometimes He does take things away. Sometimes He does do that very thing. But sometimes, and if we’re going to be honest, I think most times, He does.  Most times, we still have the pain, the loss, and the hurt. I was reading in Jeremiah 15:18 yesterday. 
 
Why is my pain unceasing,
    my wound incurable,
    refusing to be healed?
 
Just because it still hurts doesn’t mean that God is not good, because He is. It doesn’t mean that He’s not at work because He is.  It means that He is with us. And we can learn. Don’t run from your pain. Sit with it for a while. Listen. Grow. Understand. Through His grace, even lets it form something good and beautiful in you.  
 
It has done that to me. By allowing myself to be honest about all of this, I am learning. And learning how to not allow it to control me. Loss only defeats us if we do not listen and learn.  
 
I wish today had not happened. But it did. It is not my fault; God didn’t cause it, and I can be mad or sad about it. It’s ok.  

Later in Jeremiah 15 the Lord says in verses 20-21:

for I am with you
    to save you and deliver you,
            says the Lord.
I will deliver you out of the hand of the wicked
    and redeem you from the grasp of the ruthless.
 
The thing I’ve learned is that pain doesn’t negate God’s presence. But God’s presence doesn’t always negate the pain.

Today, I’m sorry if you have experienced pain, for when we listen to our pain, we learn the truth: “Who am I to judge another’s pain?”  It may not ever “go away.” But it doesn’t have to define you.  Let it say what it says to you, listen to it. Give to God. And move forward. 
 
I love that line from World War Z (I know, I know). Movement is life.  Listen.  And move.  
 
God is good all the time. And all the time, God is good.