On Commissioning the Bixbys

We said goodbye to our coworkers, Tim and Ruth, on June 21. Several strands of thoughts ran through my mind as I meditated on the fact that I would not see them again before they left for France. I attempted to channel those thoughts into this poem. I trust that it communicates biblical truths about love for coworkers and love for the gospel despite its shortcomings.

The service sneaked up on me

like a long-assigned project's due date

startles a procrastinating student: Already!

So soon! Its coming and won't wait!

For months and years we've prayed, planned,

prepared-for a mission in the distant future

that now extends its grasping hand

to claim you for its treasure.

Upon bowed shoulders elder hands descend,

deigning to set apart and send away

brother, sister, cherished friends

for sake of a coming glorious day.

Can we rejoice concerning this commission?

How can we feel happiness and joy

at this severing, this removal, this amputation

of those whose vital gifts we enjoy?

Delightful songs about sending out our own

clash dissonantly with the silent, constricting

dirges that grip the throat, turning to stone

joyful thoughts once upward spiraling.

Can it really be that we, the body, are gathering

to celebrate such a separation, the undoing of a union,

which is no less traumatic or agonizing

than the loss of arm or leg by amputation?

A sudden thought impedes dark despair's progress:

"Are you the first to suffer thus?"

The pain remains, but we can't claim this duress

is unique to us.

Long ago a greater severance took place-

when the God man walked this world.

The Father and the Son, eternally face to face,

fellowship cruelly crushed, salvation unfurled.

Far from glory this cherished Son righteously

lived doing good and preaching

good news to crowds persistently

refusing to see in him the Father abiding.

Until one morning the Son was dragged

up a hill to bear full force the anger

of his own dear Father, all communication gagged,

eternal fellowship could not endure.

Why must grief sprout from separation

for both deity and humanity?

This suffering is the price of reconciliation;

temporary sundering brings union for eternity.

Again, can this commissioning lead to joy?

Yes, if despite heartache and sorrow

the body rends itself to send a gospel envoy,

dividing itself so others can know.

And so within the assembly smile and frown mingle

as tears of sorrow and joy freely blend.

Mourning and grief are embraced in full.

Sweet proximity temporarily relinquished.

Go with the blessing of the church,

over every obstacle and resistance advance

until you return triumphantly from the search

for souls to swell Christ's inheritance.