That wasn't what was supposed to happen.
How often have we expressed such thoughts when life (or the Lord) seems to throw us a curve ball?
A week or so ago, I visited a family from my former parish in Wilmington who had just found out some devastating news: their youngest -- a recent college graduate -- was diagnosed with Stage 4 cancer. There were no early signs, just some abdominal pain that wouldn't go away with OTC meds. It was simply a routine check-up that revealed the cross he must now carry.
As I sat with the young man's parents, they shared all the things their son had been doing up until that moment in time: his new job; the girl he loved; his dreams for the future. "This isn't how this was supposed to turn out," said Mom, holding back tears while wanting nothing more than to take her son's agony as her own.
It isn't supposed to happen this way.
Joshua, in today's first reading from the Book of Numbers, said as much when he discovered two men -- Eldad and Medad -- were prophesying in God's Name, clearly having missed the sign-up time at the camp. The other 68 elders played by the rules. How is it that the two "dads, El and Me" still had the golden tongue of proclamation but weren't originally present for the bestowal of such gifts?
It is not supposed to be this way.
Which begs the question: what do we do when life hands out lemons? How do we live in the sour space of "it isn't supposed to be like this?"
I wonder if the answer can't be found in Jesus' advice about sinfulness. On the surface, it may not seem as though the Lord's strong admonition to "cut it out -- or off, as the case may be -- has anything to do with the problem of life's unexpected and unwanted crosses.
And yet, maybe we need to rethink what Jesus is telling us.
On a primary level, Christ is indeed telling us to do whatever it takes to free ourselves from the roadblocks to grace and mercy. Too often, as St. Paul reminds us time and again, we do the things we know we shouldn't do, and rarely choose the things we should.
I know I shouldn't gossip, but when that one friend calls, my loose lips can't wait to spill the tea. I have no doubt that the websites I sometimes surf open up images of impurity that stay with me long after I scroll on. And yes, the grudge that I have held since 1983 toward someone who wronged me over something I now can't even recall in full detail is not freeing my heart in the way it was meant to love.
To all these things, the Lord cried out: Cut it out of your life. Stop letting Satan and the empty attractions of the world pull you toward the choices that block grace and charity. Do whatever it takes to free yourself from choices that lead to selfishness and self-centeredness, sin and destruction.
Are we to pluck out eyes and tongues? No, not literally. But we are to fight like hell -- and literally fight hell -- in order to let the power of Christ's cross save our souls and set us free.
It's not easy. But we must never give up.
Which brings us full circle to the original problem of what to do when we encounter those moments of "it isn't supposed to be this way."
We're not wrong for thinking it, expressing it or crying out when life breaks our hearts open. But we can't stay in that space. It's okay to visit; we must not keep our tents there permanently.
Why? Because here's the secret -- if we are open, God will pull an Eldad-Medad moment in our lives.
Our Father is so good and powerful that He will use anything and everything we offer to bring about new beginnings, new hope, and new ways. He is a God of awesome surprises.
When you turn over the sin that you've struggled with for years -- no matter how many times you continue to stumble and fall -- He says: I see you. I know you are trying to respond to grace. I'm using even this to make you humble and holy. Don't give up.
When the Cross comes on suddenly and you aren't sure where to turn, surrendering it to God allows Him to use it. We know not how, at least not always. But He will always use it: to empty us of selfish ego; to bring others into relationship with Him; to point the way of courage and bold surrender to God's will.
And here's the most important piece of the equation, the one loving "cut it off" command that brings everything back to the grace that awaits:
When Satan whispers you're worthless and nothing will ever change, turn off the recording that plays over and over in your consciousness. Fight back each time by saying: Jesus, I trust in You. (Trust me, it works!)
When the power of darkness seems to be winning, cut it off with the light and power of Scripture and Sacraments.
And when the weight of "it isn't supposed to be like this" clings to you like a millstone, run to Him before you choose anything else, especially the emptiness of sin. Find Him here at Mass and in the community of believers. Don't stop showing up.
For when we do these things, the Lord works awesome miracles, even if they aren't necessarily the ones we think we need at that moment:
Miracles of love and grace found in ways and times we never saw coming. Miracles that He's always working out -- God sees what we cannot yet understand. Miracles of Eldads and Medads coming into our lives to point the way to new beginnings, new hope, and new ways.
We know from personal experience that crosses come in ways we don't expect or understand. Life isn't always according to our plans. And yet, God will never fail us. He is about resurrection, not dead ends.
For one young Wilmington man and his family, only God knows where the cancer journey will lead. But here's something already quite telling: a community has rallied around them; medical professionals are guiding and leading the charge; and a young man's cancer-courage is teaching countless others what it means to fight for life and love.
Some would say that God is already winning.
May we never forget that Satan and the powers of darkness can never win as long as we aren't afraid to cut evil out and let the God of surprises -- the God of Eldad and Medad -- lead the way. He always will when we don't block the grace.
Jesus, we trust in You.