No Shoes for Old Men

"When I get to heaven gonna put on my shoes..." -I Got Shoes, Negro Spiritual

For those of you who know us from Rice and haven't already heard, James Gjertsen died suddenly on Wednesday. Sharon's been following James's progress on John and Abby's blog for some time, and the news hit us pretty hard (though honestly her worse than me). He had semilobar holoprosencephaly, and it's been tough following their ups and downs with him, though not for any of their doing. It's just hard not to become a ball of conflicting emotions reading it. You hurt for them, and you pray for them, and you are happy your own son is okay, and then you're guilty for feeling happy and then you feel bad for the times you take your own son for granted and by golly if you don't start to wish you could do something for them but what really can you do and what does God mean by all this anyway.

Then, of course, you put it next to the whining I did in my last post and you think, "God, I'm such a self-centered prick. Where was I when You were knitting together baby Gjertsen in the womb? Who am I to question the path You laid for him or his parents from before the foundations of the world (and even less for my path)?"

Then Job answered the LORD:

"I am unworthy—how can I reply to you?
I put my hand over my mouth.
I spoke once, but I have no answer—
twice, but I will say no more."

Then the LORD spoke to Job out of the storm:

"Brace yourself like a man;
I will question you,
and you shall answer me.
Would you discredit my justice?
Would you condemn me to justify yourself?
Do you have an arm like God's,
and can your voice thunder like his?
Then adorn yourself with glory and splendor,
and clothe yourself in honor and majesty.
Unleash the fury of your wrath,
look at every proud man and bring him low,
look at every proud man and humble him,
crush the wicked where they stand.
Bury them all in the dust together;
shroud their faces in the grave.
Then I myself will admit to you
that your own right hand can save you."

You can hear God's voice thick and sticky with contempt and sarcasm (which, most of the time, we think God isn't allowed to feel) towards us, these little egocentric mounds of dust.

But even in this I'm unrepentant — just embarassed. Will we ever grow up?

God bless you, Gjertsen family, and be with you, baby James, in heaven so sweet. Walk all over God's heaven.