Not Alone
by

Our culture has an interesting end-of-year ritual that succeeds every time to induce a state of reflection and self-examination. It is the ritual of recounting the notable individuals who passed away during the calendar year. The website, biography.com, lists 56 famous people who died in 2012: 

I am in my mid 50s and remember well the likes of Andy Griffith, Jack Klugman, and Phyllis Diller. I was never concerned about who shot J.R., but I have fond memories of Larry Hagman’s Major Nelson in “I Dream of Jeannie.” While I seldom thought about Dick Clark during the year, he was an integral part of my family’s New Year celebrations.

I grew up with these people. They were part of my life.

It matters little that we did not have a personal relationship. They were comrades in the journey of life…and to lose them means something. To contemplate their loss brings me back to a fundamental constituent of life: death.

We die.

I could, of course, choose to be unreflective about this: “Here today; gone tomorrow.”

But these are people, just like you and me. They had families and friends. They embodied consciousness and laughter and sadness and memories and hope – just like we do.

Perhaps I am just being morbid…and the truth is I would rather not think about this. Nevertheless…

We die.

It may occur in 2013 or some other year after that. But, barring Jesus’ Parousia, our death is as certain as tomorrow’s sunrise.

This end-of-year ritual forces me to engage in the practice of examen.

I first encountered the practice of examen in Richard Foster’s book, Prayer: Finding the Heart’s True Home. I have read many books on prayer over the years, but I find myself coming back to this one time after time because of its clarity and accessibility. It is, in a word, one of the best books on prayer I’ve ever read.

The term examen dates back to the early 17th century and refers to the formal practice of examining one’s soul or conscience. The Jesuits engage in examen as a daily discipline.

There are, says Foster, two aspects of examen – like two sides of a door: the examen of consciousness, by which we discern how God has been present to us throughout our waking hours, and the examen of conscience, through which we probe the areas of our lives that stand in need of cleansing and healing (see pp. 27 and 28 of Prayer: Finding the Heart’s True Home).

These two sides of examen intersect seamlessly. When I become more acutely present to God’s presence, I discover, like the prophet Isaiah, that I am a sinful person, “a man of unclean lips, living among a people of unclean lips” (Isaiah 6:5).

As I reflect on 2012, I realize I have been through one of the most difficult years of my life. Last January, my wife and I discovered that someone very close to us is suffering from bipolar affective disorder. Unfortunately this person refuses treatment—and refuses to acknowledge that this is a (very treatable) form of mental illness.

Over the years I have provided pastoral support to families grappling with mental illness, but I must admit that neither my pastoral experience nor academic knowledge of physio-psychological disorders prepared me for something so close and so profound. I had no idea how fragile and tenuous human brain chemistry is—and had absolutely no idea how deeply and painfully families with mental illness suffer.

If someone made the prediction last January that we would be on this road of suffering in 2012, I would not have believed it.

Yet God has been present in this crucible, granting the strength and equilibrium of spirit to navigate this uncharted territory with a peace not our own. And God has used this experience to awaken me to self-care practices that I probably would not have been open to otherwise. God has been faithfully present in both consciousness and conscience.

If 2013 is not the year I pass from this Earth, I suspect that the journey ahead will continue to be long and hard. But I am not alone. If I have learned anything in 2012, it is that.

Join the Conversation

How has suffering shown you that you’re not alone?

What in 2012 was a crucible for you? How did it shape you?

Chuck Conniry:
Chuck Conniry is Vice President and Dean of George Fox Evangelical Seminary, a graduate school of George Fox University, in Newberg, Oregon. Chuck holds several degrees, including the PhD in theology from Fuller Theological Seminary and MDiv from Bethel Seminary, San Diego. He is married to Dianne and together they have three children and one daughter-in-law: Krystal, Matthew (and his wife, Ashley), and Nathan. Chuck loves to write, swim, and ride his Harley. He and his family reside in Sherwood, Oregon.
  • http://jdsinhines.blogspot.com John Stauffer

    First of all I am pleased to state that on May 6, 2013 I will turn 70. At the age of 54 I was encouraged by my wife Cathy to attend classes at the Western Evangelical Seminary under a special offering for spouses of full time students. It was life changing and offered to me an opportunity,if for nothing else, the opportunity to fulfill a life long calling into full time ministry.

    2012 saw hard times for Cathy and I. In November of 2011 Cathy was diagnosed with cancer. Not uncommon to know someone who is these days. Yet when it was my wife, it was as though she was the first to ever receive such news. What made the news so difficult for me was that because of the type of cancer the prognosis was dire at best.

    Cathy was told that the only cure was to have the tumor lodged against the vena cava inside the liver surgically removed.

    Without a complete recounting of the year, Cathy underwent a total of 45 weeks of chemo therapy. She remained courageous. I spent hours crying, weeping, arguing with God and talking with people. I struggled with what life would be without my sweetheart.

    I too returned to formerly assigned reading from seminary days. I gained confidence not only that Cathy would be a survivor, but that we would have a changed life.

    Our approach to life has changed. Value of relationship with God and humans has changed. Cathy attended my commencement in April of 2012. I officiated at the funeral for my 96 year old mother a few days later and returned to OHSU in early June of 2012 for Cathy’s surgery.

    It is in agreement with Dr. Conniry that we do in deed “die”, but for now Cathy and I are alive and look to the future rejoicing in the opportunity to serve God and to be present to those around us.

    Thank You, Dr. Conniry for your encouragement to all of us.

  • http://mutatingmissionary.blogspot.de/ Robyn Rochelle Eubanks

    Well written post and comment. Thank you both. Sitting on this side of a great ocean, far away from loved ones and family I watched from afar as a marriage of my loved one died in 2012. I go through my year of examen questioning, could I have changed anything by being closer to the sickness? Could I have helped to maneuver safely to the other side of healing? By staying on the mission field, did I contribute to the loss?
    In seeking His presence – He slides Himself into my heart
    In seeking a heart of gratitude – how? – He holds me.
    In expressing my emotions – my tears fill the lonely but not alone room. He holds me there in the midst of those wailing nights.
    Choosing to hold on to the truth that one person cannot control another, that God does not turn away and hide His eyes from the rejected, that my son – like myself – must walk a road of a divorced person that does not believe in divorce; that God is in the middle of even this. He has held me the last 23 years of singleness, He will hold my son.
    And I can state with sincerity, I trust Him to bring about a life as full and exciting for my son, as He has brought about for me.

    Death, Life, Examen, God – seasons, tragedies, joys, adventures – the other side. I wait and serve, love and grow, anticipating the life held here and the life to come.