A Home Lost

Dear World,

No this is not a suicide letter, though it could be like one because it reflects on the death of life. 

Social media – that nutty phenomenon that connects us all in virtual space – tells of a friend. He loved her, she loved him. High School sweethearts, soon married. Both working very hard. Planning future. Church? Some. Jesus? Some. Parents? Yes. School, midnight oil, soon a baby!

Three years in, he is gone. Wife on the arm, delightful companion, no longer with. Happens all the time? Maybe. But why this couple? What does it say about me and mine? Is anyone safe? What makes safe? Does 'God' make safe?

I have friends and friends of friends who tell stories that drain the soul. Man leaves family for another; family in poverty for years. Mother of three faithful no more, lost and wandering, husband wondering. Mother of two, leaves in God's name; husband wrong, distraught, perplexed. Listening in I shake my head and despair and cry. Mother of 4 lost her way, husband more, no way to say what happened except family now gone. She struggles. He's lost, deserving, not sure what or why or how. Children together, looking good for now. For always? Is anything for always?

Here's the truth. God may not be enough. Oh He always is, but He can't help us as He wants if we rebel and ignore Him. Proverbs is right. Seek Him paramount. Don't seek ultimate reality in people. People are just people, unable to bear the weight of being god to you. Love God first and always, then love the one He gives you.

Any other lessons for my hurting soul? The best appearance can hide disaster underneath. This young couple was all that -- and not. Get face to face with God your Maker. He deals with the real you, the inside. Before Him bow. This is what is ultimate. It gives meaning to staying together. It makes possible. It sustains in disaster.

What makes a marriage crumble? I do not know. I hug my wife and I weep inside. Can we make it? What hidden cancer would steal our love? Can I steward the pain we've known to help others weather the storm? Is it enough to possess zeal to succeed? No. Is longing for real love enough? Almost. But only God makes real. Only He deals with the brokenness of soul that would destroy the best of friendships and marriages. What is the mystery here?

All I know is a young friend's marriage went out the door, gone, shattered, baby in tow. And the explanations are oh-so modern:

• “He left, no good reason; it doesn't really matter after all – this is very common now days.”
• “I can get a job; family and society will hold me up. We tried.”
• “He just wanted someone else more than me;" or, "I just wanted baby more than him;" or, "I got tired – a person can only take so much.”

Does desperation matter? Simple loyalty? Dying for the other, giving up every hope and dream you ever had for the supreme hope of keeping the vow? Ideas matter, desperately so. Good ideas, valiantly obeyed, will save us. Wrong ideas, blindly pursued, will ruin us. And so we may not know whence came the cancer that destroys, or why so soon or why waited so long.

Platitudes and urging mean little. I know all the right words, or most of them. What can I say to soon groomed, hopeful bride, thrice wed? Joy, angst, anger? I do not know. Others fail, why not me? Why not mine? I can only appeal to fundamentals, faithfulness, “do not leave!”, “no matter what!” Can this be done? Yes. Any guarantees?

None.

I have no platitudes. Pride and desire to succeed may make a marriage surface-strong, but what of the soul? Corrode from within and suddenly all are shocked and heart-broken. The love they saw collapsed on an empty inside. There was no there there. Who knew? Does it matter? This happens all the time. She will get a job. Kids will cope. He will work harder. There are no tears, no lament because nothing real is left, nothing real was gained.

But what was the hope, the dream, the wish, the possibility? A home: that eternal, elusive bastion of happiness? A place of rooms and hearts and beds and sorrows and forever? Is it worth it at all? Does FB have a clue?

Facebook would be life if we could create reality by pictures and tirades and well-crafted descriptions. Which brings again the question of truth. Are we real? Can we survive? Am I honest with myself? With my spouse? With my God? A home is not a digital presence but a presence together in bricks and mortar, walls and front door, locked when needed, left when must but always returned to. Social media, for all its jaded value, is a thread of constant pictures, a poison elixir that hooks the mind and heart with nothing. It is the ultimate truth decay, a metaphor of this broken home that has shattered my soul.

There was something there, but the pictures could not sustain it. And even as I write about it I am lost.