Ecclesiastes
For everything there is a season,
and a time for every matter under heaven:
a time to be born, and a time to die;
a time to plant,
and a time to pluck up what is planted;
a time to kill, and a time to heal;
a time to break down, and a time to build up;
a time to weep, and a time to laugh;
a time to mourn, and a time to dance;
a time to cast away stones, and a time to gather stones together;
a time to embrace, and a time to refrain from embracing;
a time to seek, and a time to lose;
a time to keep, and a time to cast away;
a time to rend, and a time to sew;
a time to keep silence, and a time to speak;
a time to love, and a time to hate; a time for war, and a time for peace.
Ecc 3:1-9
If I were given the opportunity to reorder the 66 books of the Bible, I would move Ecclesiastes to the front. In fact, I’d start on chapter 3 as an introduction to the rest of the Bible. If we started our relationship with the Bible by reading the above account, it would make sense why the rest of the tome contains famines, wars, exoduses of people, and cruelty as well as laughing, dancing, love, resurrection, and joy. And maybe reading the Bible this way would stop people from either blaming God, or rejecting the idea of God, when bad things happen – both naturally occurring bad things like storms and droughts as well as human-made calamities. We would simply sigh and say, “For everything there is a season, and a time for every matter under heaven.”
Reading Ecclesiastes helps me to wrap my arms around the fact that my father and my father-in-law are in Hospice care. For everything there is a season. The Marshall and Long families have entered a season of saying goodbye. It is also the season of darkness as the nights get longer until December 21/22, it is the season of busyness, hustle and bustle, it is a season of waiting and anticipation, it is a season of blue that concludes a year that I can best describe with one word: uncertainty.
My dad, John, has metastasized kidney cancer in his lungs and elsewhere in his body. When he discontinued treatment, they said he would have three to six months – he would most likely not celebrate his birthday. On October 18th, I was in Seattle with mom and my brother to celebrate dad’s 80th. Two weeks ago, Hospice said dad has seven days to live. They have since revised their estimate. The most important part of this is that dad is not in pain, is peaceful, is at home with mom, and we have all been able to share our love for him and with him. Even in this year of uncertainty, we have been given the time to both weep and laugh.
My father-in-law, Stan, also has stage three cancer. He is also is at home and is not in pain. Stan’s 90th birthday is on December 17 which he shares with his grandson Ethan who is turning 19. The Marshalls are flying out to see him and the rest of Christi’s family after Christmas and will return the first week of January. It will be a time of embracing, of weeping, and of laughter.
Although I am not able to re-order the books of the Bible, I can reorient the way that I view the Bible, God, and life through the wisdom of Ecclesiastes; understanding that even in this time of Advent, there is a time and a season for everything under heaven.
-Rev. Dave
