Today is the Winter Solstice, the darkest day of the year. It fits my mood.

On Sunday my second cousin, Treavor Reeves, died. He was stillborn. He was full term (a day or two past his due date, actually), and there had been no signs of trouble throughout the pregnancy. We still don’t know what happened (autopsy results are pending).

I’ve been very lucky in my life that death hasn’t ever visited my door and has only infrequently even visited my extended family. This death has hit me harder than any other in my life, especially since this could have just as easily happened to us. We’ve been blessed with three uneventful pregnancies and deliveries. It doesn’t make sense that Cameron, Kierstin, and Raegan are healthy and happy but Treavor is dead.

I sent sympathy cards today to Amy & Dave (the parents) and Doris & Bob (the grandparents). So many of the cards I looked at tried to soften the blow of death by calling on all the good memories we have of the one who died. Except in this case there aren’t memories, only sadness.

I don’t understand God in times like this. My faith in God isn’t rattled, but my understanding of him is. God is true and perfect, but my understanding of him is weak and shallow.

Too many times Christians get trite and smarmy when faced with the ugliness of life. “God is in control.” “God has a purpose in this.” And it’s insulting.

I was listening to Waterdeep’s Live at the New Earth this weekend (before I got the news about Treavor) and was blown away by the song, “18 Bullet Holes“:

Sometimes, God, I feel like I’m living in a bone grinding mill
And every time I hear the sound I can barely stand still
It’s a thing I can’t quite make out sometimes but it seems to keep getting louder-
One more body from the valley of the dry bones getting ground up into powder
Against Your holy will

Oh, God, it hurts so bad to love anybody down here
Why don’t You come and help me out?
Cause I can’t even see clear

And I thought that the song could never be played in church, because it’s too dark, and what a damn shame that is because the church should be about living life together, and sometimes life sucks. But we’re too afraid to admit it and would rather pretend God needs our help to continue a masquerade that life is all about Thomas Kinkade paintings, “positive encouraging K-Love“, and cutesy sermon series themes.

The only thing I can do with and for Amy & Dave and Doris & Bob is to grieve with them and pray for them. I hope you will too.