I had a very good friend who was diagnosed with ovarian cancer several years ago. Now, if you know cancer at all, you know that of all the various kinds of cancer you can be diagnosed with ovarian is one of the most difficult to treat. It was of course a great blow to her, especially as she had recently lost her mother to pancreatic cancer and had walked a multi-year walk with her mother through that difficult journey. She knew exactly what she was facing and how radically her life was about to change.
I wondered how she would respond. Many around her freaked out. Some avoided her. Some said unbelievably stupid things. And my friend faced her diagnosis with calmness and courage. One day over lunch I wondered at her lack of anger with God and her calmness, and she said to me, “I know that many people think I should be asking, ‘Why me?’ but I guess I have seen enough people diagnosed with cancer that I find myself asking, ‘Why not me?’” I was and am blown away by her grace and her continued faith that God is with her no matter what comes her way.
Now of course my friend wanted her cancer to go away. Who wouldn’t? But at a very deep level she understood that part of being human is to be mortal. Being human comes with the frailty of human flesh. Suffering, sickness, and death are a normal part of human existence, though they don’t have to be the things that define us. There is joy in the midst of suffering. There is health and happiness in the midst of sickness. There is death in the midst of life. And since all three things are a normal part of human existence, things that will happen to all of us at some point in our lives, it is pointless to ask, “why me?” and much more fruitful to say “why not me? Why should I be the exception to the realities of human existence?” And often suffering, sickness and yes even death make our times of happiness, joy and peace, even more happy, joyful and peaceful in contrast. We can’t know of the existence of light without dark. We also may not be able to truly understand the good without the bad.
So why have I rambled on about all this. Well, I found myself having a peculiar reaction to part of our Gospel reading for this morning, a verse that is very familiar to me, as we hear it or something similar every Advent:
“Prepare the way of the Lord,
make his paths straight.
Every valley shall be filled,
and every mountain and hill shall be made low,
and the crooked shall be made straight,
and the rough ways made smooth;” (Luke 3:6)
I found myself thinking, “I don’t know if I want the paths straightened, the valleys filled, the mountains made low, the crooked made straight and the rough ways made smooth.” Winding crooked paths, valleys, mountains, and rough ways can be some of the most beautiful places in the world whether we are speaking literally or figuratively here. A smoothed out world would be a rather bland and uninteresting world.
I know, I know, Luke is talking about something a little different here. He is using the analogy of a herald going before a king to make sure everyone is ready for the king’s arrival. I get it. But just the same I couldn’t shake the feeling that I didn’t want the valleys and mountains to be filled in and smoothed down.
And I found this to be a curious place in which to sit for a while. For, unlike my friend with cancer, I have been known to ask God, “why me?” I have been known to pray desperately to God, “Please would you just make things easier. Smooth my mountains down. Fill my valleys in. Take away the thing that is happening in my life right now that I don’t like very much.” My friend was definitely more spiritually mature than I am. And yet maybe I am making a little bit of progress.
Maybe I am beginning to understand just a little bit that there is great beauty to be found in the valleys and the mountains and on the crooked paths and rough ways. Maybe preparing the way of the Lord doesn’t have to mean that everything has to be smoothed out and made easy. Maybe preparing the way of the Lord means climbing those mountains, descending into those valleys, walking those crooked, winding and rough paths, even though we get blisters and sore backs. Even though we stumble and fall, and it takes a lot longer than walking a straight smooth highway. The straight smooth highways are easy but there is often not much to see and very little in the way of beauty and interest.
I am fortunate in that I have never had a diagnosis like my friend, but I do have my own valleys and rough places. I live with a chronic condition called psoriatic arthritis and psoriasis. It is an auto-immune disorder in which my immune system is over functioning and is therefore attacking me. It causes inflammation which affects my joints and causes a whole other host of problems. I get medical treatment and keep it under control, but it still remains a constant presence in my life, and I frequently have pain as a result. I have spent more time than I would like to admit in my prayer life asking God “why do I have this condition? Why won’t you fix me?” And certainly, I would love to wake up one morning and have it gone. And as I sat with this passage for today, I realized that I am also who I am because of my condition.
I am less judgmental than I once was because I am now aware that people can be suffering with a condition that no one else can see. Because I can’t move the way I once could, I sit still more often and simply observe. I used to move too fast and missed a lot of the beauty all around me. I am less able to fill my life up with a whole bunch of stuff, stuff that was unimportant anyway, so I have more time for the experiences that really matter. I can’t run with my kids, but I can sit and watch a sunset. If I could run, I might not sit to watch that sunset. The valleys and the crooked paths are quite beautiful after all.
And I am grateful for my friend who taught me to embrace my valleys and rough places rather than try to smooth them over. I am grateful that she gave me a new question to ask, “Why not me?” It doesn’t take away the suffering and struggles of life, but it certainly reframes how we see them and reframes our relationship with God. May you find the beauty in your mountains, valleys, and crooked paths. May you know that God is with you there too. Amen.
