Thursday, March 20, 2014

My Spiritual War Cries by Teresa Beem

My husband calls them my "war cries." 

Once in a while my heart is so overcome with grief because of what I see in our world that I have an emotional melt down. Usually my family doesn't understand because I cannot tell them at the moment what is wrong with me, so I fumble around without being coherent as I yell out my frustrations and sob. My husband no longer fears my "episodes" for he knows why I cry. 

I cry for the 55 million little lost unborn souls who were legally slaughtered in America. I cry because I see the innocence torn from our children and no one seems to care. I see a world where no one seems to have the courage to scream truth through the loud lies of chaos. I weep for the pain I see wherever I look. I weep that sin looks more pleasing than righteousness. I weep that our elders have no wisdom. I weep because our Christian leaders are asleep and the wolves are ravishing the  sheep.

I long for those days past when sorrow wasn't considered emotionally imbalanced. Now those grief stricken by the realities they encounter are given magic pills by doctors to zone their emotions out and make them appear "normal." Because let's face it, we want it stifled, chemically, if necessary, because their pain makes us uncomfortable.

It seems that if you are not laughing and having a good time, something is wrong with you. Sobriety and sorrow are evil. Humor is the only socially acceptable way of dealing with ugliness.

In the past, dramatic and public displays of grief was normal. Mourners actually put on sackcloth and poured black ashes over their heads and went out into the streets and wailed and beat their breasts. Now we conceal our pain in order to remain dignified. We don't want others to see us loose our cool. 

No one publicly grieves. In fact, it has become a note of honor to appear perfectly stoic in the face of disaster. Katie Couric was given kudos for her ability to seem utterly unmoved during her live coverage of the 9-11 Twin Towers attack, when grown men were breaking down in view of the destruction. To me, that is not control, that is gray-heartedness.

Because of the pressure to remain smiling no matter what, I have felt remorse for my occasional public displays of emotion. I even apologized to Christ the other day at mass for crying because I was so touched at the readings. 

He told me something. He told me to look up at the crucifix. There I pondered a Almighty, Creator God who would become so vulnerable in human flesh that He would allow His creation to torture Him and nail Him naked, exposed and humiliated on the Cross. He was not ashamed of His pain. He publicly cried out to God. 

Christ was not ashamed of the vulnerability of His pain.

There on each crucifix, till the end of days, Jesus is hanging for the whole world to see. His pain and humiliation is there to comfort those who suffer. He is showing us the redemption of those agonies, for He was unashamed of carrying the sins of the whole world upon Himself. He was courageous enough to bear before our eyes, the ultimate of all excruciating moments. He exposed His agony and let us watch Him suffer and die. 

As Christians, we cannot be ashamed of our tears for the suffering we see in the world, or even the suffering in our own lives. King Solomon reminded us that there is a time for laughter and a time for tears. I look around at America and I see it is a time for tears for our Nation, a time for repentance and turning from our sins. 

For once we have courageously walked through that valley of tears, we will be stronger and wiser. We will be the foundation for our children, so that they can be stronger and holier and mightier than we. Do not be afraid to release your war cries for the spiritual battle for our Nation. For tears do not mean a loss of hope, war cries release us and we can then rise from the pain and walk into the spiritual battle once again.