Can Their Be Joy?

I woke up Sunday morning thinking about the poem, “Casey at the Bat.” In the fictitious town of Mudville, all hope rested on Mighty Casey.  If he could get to bat, the team could win.  Strike one . . . strike two . . . and . . .
 

The sneer is gone from Casey's lip, his teeth are clenched in hate;

He pounds with cruel violence his bat upon the plate.

And now the pitcher holds the ball, and now he lets it go,

And now the air is shattered by the force of Casey's blow.

Oh, somewhere in this favored land the sun is shining bright;

The band is playing somewhere, and somewhere hearts are light,

And somewhere men are laughing, and somewhere children shout;

But there is no joy in Mudville — mighty Casey has struck out.

In Newtown, Connecticut, a real town with real people, there is no joy this morning.  A town and its people mourn the deaths of 20 elementary-age children, six of their teachers, and a young killer and his mother.  While some rush to use the tragedy to push their agendas for better mental health services and stricter gun controls, families and friends mourn.  With life suddenly taken away from 28 people, the future of families, a town, a state, a nation, and a world has been forever altered.  What might have been will never be.

A few miles from my home, a friend lies in an ICU bed at the UK Medical Center fighting for his life.  Leukemia altered his life last Christmas.  Chemotherapy and a bone marrow transplant followed.  Days of hope and joy followed.  He came home, making progress toward full recovery; and then the progress ceased.  His body is now ravaged by disease.  In an effort to save his life, doctors removed his colon last night.  And now his wife and children, along with the rest of us who love him, pray . . . and wait.

In Newtown, Connecticut, and Henry County, Kentucky, and at the UK Medical Center, and where you are, we are all praying and waiting—praying and waiting for the word of the Prophet Zephaniah to alter our realities: “The Lord your God is in your midst, a mighty one who will save; he will rejoice over you with gladness; he will quiet you by his love; he will exult over you with loud singing” (3:17). 

In disquiet and agony, we cry out, Come, Lord God!  If we listen carefully, in the midst of our cries, we will hear, “Fear not, for I have redeemed you; I have called you by name, you are mine” (Isaiah 43:1b); and through eyes blurred with our tears, we will see the One who declared, “I am with you always, to the end of the age” (Matthew 28:20b).

The message of Advent remains true.  In Jesus we find love, hope, joy, and peace.  And so, this morning, I pray for the families of Newtown, Connecticut, and I pray for my friend and his family.  I pray knowing what perhaps those caught in the midst of disquiet and agony cannot know that Jesus loves us and is in times like these the source of our hope, joy, and peace.