Clergy from left, Deacon Cynthia Biddlecomb, retired; Pastor Nicolé Ferry, Assistant Rector Lynn Finnegan and Pastor Deb Church. Courtesy photo
By Rev. Deb Beloved Church
White Rock Presbyterian Church
I recently led a memorial service for a teenager who died due to a fentanyl overdose. During the service, a relative expressed heartfelt concern for our community, saying, “This is such a beautiful place–this shouldn’t be happening here!”
I completely agree that the death of a young person by drug overdose should not be happening. I question the idea, however, that “here” is somehow special.
People everywhere have messy lives and hidden struggles, live with shame and guilt, and wonder, deep down, “If people really knew me, would they still love me?”
It’s a painful question–because while we humans desperately long–indeed, need–to be fully seen and known and still loved, we’ve all been told, somehow, that parts of us are unacceptable, and we’ve all become convinced, on some level, that we, in the fullness of our being, are unlovable. And that causes soul-deep pain. In all of us. And we all find ways to bury it.
Sometimes we do that in socially acceptable, even downright admirable, ways (think overachieving, pleasing others, never arguing, becoming overly knowledgeable, etc.). At other times, we rely on more obviously destructive methods: drug and alcohol abuse, disordered eating, compulsive gambling, etc. Whatever our numbing agent of choice, whether we do it consciously or unconsciously, we all work hard to avoid our deep-down pain.
And yet … that even deeper-down part of us–the innermost essence of who we are, the most authentic version of our self–continues to desperately long to be seen and known and loved, in all our fullness and glory!
It is to that part of each of us that I offer my deepest conviction: that all people everywhere are deeply and fully seen, deeply and fully known, and deeply and fully loved, by God. By the Creator. By the Divine Essence.
And not because we’ve earned it by our goodness or smartness, nor by our wealth or health, nor by our skin color or gender identity or political party or religion or anything else.
Nor have we forfeited it by our drug use or abuse, nor by our number of piercings or partners, nor by our lack of money, education, or faith.
We are each God’s beloved because Love is who God is and Love is what God does. Period.
What would the world look like if we really knew that? What would our communities look like if we fully understood that? What would you and I look like if we could each truly claim that, deep in our souls?
And then, began to love others with that same kind of love?
My prayer is that we would all be willing to do the sometimes difficult, often hard-to-stomach, and always healing and liberating work of claiming our identity as people who are deeply and fully seen and known and loved by God, exactly as we are, good, bad, ugly, and messy … so that we can do the also sometimes-difficult, also often-hard-to-stomach, and also always-healing-and-liberating work of more truly loving those around us with that same kind of love.
Amen.
Editor’s note: ‘All Shall Be Well’ is a semi-monthly column written by local women clergy (pastors and deacons) including, ELCA Deacon Cynthia Biddlecomb, M.Div., retired (czoebidd@gmail.com); Nicolé Ferry, Pastor, Bethlehem Evangelical Lutheran Church (pastornicole@bethluth.com); Lynn Finnegan, Assistant Rector, The Episcopal Church of the Holy Faith, Santa Fe (rev.lynn@holyfaithchurchsf.org) and Deb Church, Pastor, White Rock Presbyterian Church (pastor@wrpchurch.com).
