A Hope That Groans

Life can change in an instant.

It is cliché, but it is true.

In the beginning of January, I went to Durham, NC to spend a week with an amazing group of people in my graduate program. We spent the weekend with Jonathan Wilson-Hartgrove and the Rutba House  — a group of Christians seeking to live intentionally & sustainably in community in a forgotten neighborhood — for the School for Conversion. On Sunday morning, we worshiped with a lively African-American church, where Jonathan serves as a minister. We spent some time on Duke’s campus, exploring the incredible chapel, and checking out the other worship center on campus—Cameron Indoor Stadium, where the basketball team plays. We spent the rest of the week with Rubel Shelly and Mark Love, learning together. It was an incredible week. I’m still processing it.

On Saturday night, as we were coming back to the hotel, I got a call from one of the kids in my youth group (Michael, who also happens to be like a little brother to me, and the kid with whom I collided back in the summer, when I broke my face). I didn’t answer, but when I talked with my wife, she said Michael had called her too, which told me something important was going on. When I talked with Michael, he said that his dad was headed to the hospital. They were all playing a game, when he suddenly got very sick. It was worrisome, but we both assumed he’d be ok soon.

Brian Games was my youth minister. At about 13 years old, I decided to start going to church. I learned from Brian what it meant to be a person who is completely surrendered to the purposes of God in all of life. I learned how to pray, how to read Scripture, how to serve, how to teach, how to love, (though I never learned how to sing!), from Brian. He was one of the most significant influences in life that lead me to realize my calling to be a minister. When I came back to my home town and church to minister, he became of my most valuable ministry partners. He married us. But more than anything else, he is just an incredible friend.

The next day, I found out that it was more serious than I first realized. He was seizing, and wasn’t really responsive.

Then while sitting in Sunday School at church, Michael called me again.

Brian had a major stroke in his brain stem. Not just a stroke. A major stroke. In his brain stem.

It was serious, and I knew it.

I did not want to be in Durham. I needed to be back in Ohio. I thought about getting a flight out as soon as possible, but knew that he’d want me to stay to finish the class. But it was hard.

When I got back to Ohio, Amanda and I made the three hour trip to Cleveland Clinic with some friends to see him and his family. When we got there, his wife (Amy) took me back to see him. I only got to spend a few moments with him. I had no idea what to say. I’ve seen patients in the ICU before. I’ve seen people—including my grandma—on a ventilator, unable to speak. But there’s something different when the person lying on the hospital bed is someone like Brian, full of life and passion and insight. After a few rambling bumbling words, Brian began to get really emotional. He was aware that I was there, and he did what Brian does…got emotional.

He went in for another procedure not long after that, and we weren’t able to see him again. In fact, Amanda and the people that came with us, weren’t able to see him at all, and in many ways, I’m glad for that.=

It was a difficult sight, to see him like that. It haunted my dreams for more than a few days. I led the family in a prayer for Brian, a few different times. That was hard. Brian has always been the one praying for us.

It was a dark, snowy day. Appropriate. Because we all felt a heavy, thick darkness. In a very real way, we had all been made aware that things in this world are not the way they ought to be. Forty year old godly men are not supposed to have strokes like this. Family reunions ought not happen in the ICU hallway. Children shouldn’t have to spent hours and hours in a cramped waiting room.

As people of faith, we look at the world and affirm that God made the world, but we are also very aware that the world is not the way God made it.

I consider that the sufferings of this present time are not worth comparing with the glory about to be revealed to us. For the creation waits with eager longing for the revealing of the children of God; for the creation was subjected to futility, not of its own will but by the will of the one who subjected it, in hope that the creation itself will be set free from its bondage to decay and will obtain the freedom of the glory of the children of God. We know that the whole creation has been groaning in labor pains until now; and not only the creation, but we ourselves, who have the first fruits of the Spirit, groan inwardly while we wait for adoption, the redemption of our bodies. For in hope we were saved. Now hope that is seen is not hope. For who hopes for what is seen? But if we hope for what we do not see, we wait for it with patience. — Romans 8 NRSV

More than anything else, hope is what gets me through life. Not a wishful thinking hope, but a hope that God is up to something. An expectation the the divine future is breaking into our jacked-up present. An affirmation that God through Jesus Christ is bringing renewal and restoration.

It is not just us that groans. It’s not just those of us who have experienced hurt or loss in this world that groan. But the whole cosmos is groaning, waiting expectantly for the glorious liberty God is bringing.

God is doing some amazing things with Brian and his family right now. Amy is touching the lives of hundreds of people through this. God is bringing incredible healing to Brian. He is not yet able to speak, but he’s communicating through different forms of technology. Just the other night, I got a short text from him “Hi brian here.” He is breathing on his own. Other involuntary functions seems to be working. He is fully aware, and is fighting. Just yesterday, he took 14 or 15 steps. He’s making progress within a month that normally takes months and months for stroke victims like him to make. It’s is truly incredible.

Creation groans. We who have the first-fruits of the life-bringing Spirit groan. The groaning is the groan of new life, of child-birth. Sometimes it feels like we’re dying. The pain is great. But it is through the pain, the hurt, the anguish, the groaning, that new life comes. Not just any life, but the Spirit-breathed, resurrection life in Jesus. The best kind.

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