When you have to restart from zero: Finding perspective in the midst of loss and devouring

I stayed in the home of an elderly couple about 2 years ago. It was a beautiful experience, one that I will not easily forget. One of the highlights of staying with people who have gone through way more years than you, is the opportunity to sit and listen to their stories.

Our conversations, usually around the dinner table, ranged from my hosts aircraft adventures, people they met during their trips, family events and the story of St Anne – patron saint of Television (don’t laugh), a story of which I may indulge in telling another day. But one story amongst the many has often replayed in my mind, a true story of tenacity and grit.

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Back in the days, my hosts father was a clergyman, a pastor a small congregational church in New Zealand. He was a faithful man, ordinary yet extraordinary.

One time, he generously allowed some boy scouts to use the local church for some activities.

Well, boy scouts being boy scouts, I’d imagine there was possibly the need to make some fire as part of the training. A little spark here and some matches there and the boy scouts ended up causing a fire that razed the whole parish to the ground.

It was devouring. Imagine the lost. Imagine the congregation having no church to go to that Sunday. Imagine the gossip. Imagine the possible blame and anger that could have happened.

And God, seriously, this?

But there was my host father, the next day, cleaning up what was left of the grounds. When asked what he was doing, He said in essence ‘Well, the building’s gone, we’ve got to build another one right? So let’s get going.’

Well, I might have given some time for the shock and anger to dissipate, but here was an incredibly tenacious man, who moved on in the most practical way after a tragedy. He understood that while it was a severe lost, the best option forward was to rebuild, and he was not going to give another second to grumbling, pity or anger to devour the morale of people. So he picked himself up and built another building for the congregation, and the story remains alive till this day.

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What do we do when we experience loss and tragedy? How do we deal with the grief, the pain, the anger? How do we find strength to move forward with hope?

Tucked somewhere in the book of 1 Chronicles (chapter 7:20-27) is a story of a father called Ephraim, who had all sons killed by the men of Gath because they wanted their cattle. He mourned for many days and his brethren came to comfort him.

And then there came a point of time, he had to choose. Was he going to die without any male descendants and wallow in his pain? Was he going to take matters into his own hands and take revenge on his enemies, and possibly get defeated? Or was he going to restart, however much the odds were stacked against him. Well, he chose to restart, and made love to his wife. His wife conceived bore him a son, whom he named Beriah, ‘because tragedy had come upon his house.’

Now here is the hope of the story. The descendent of Beriah included ‘Sheerah, who built Lower and Upper Beth Horon and Uzzen Sheerah; and Rephah was his son, as well as Resheph, and Telah his son, Tahan his son, Laadan his son, Ammihud his son, Elishama his son, Nun his son, and Joshua his son.’

Does that name sound familiar? Joshua, son of Nun, Moses’ assistant. The one who defied giants and inherited the promise land. Generations before, men of Gath had killed his forefather’s sons, and here, this descendant of Ephraim was slaying giants and claiming territory which God had promised His people.

It came after the lost, it came after the devouring, it came after Ephraim decided not to give up and decided not to blame God. It came after Ephraim mourned, allowed comfort to come in and then rose up – and took the next step forward towards life.

It was unfair, some men coming, and killing your sons for cattle. Ephraim was probably very old already and the hope of succession of the family was on his sons. Plus the suddenness of the events.

But Ephraim did not allow the devouring to devour his hope and the prospect of life. He mourned, he allowed himself to be comforted, but when it was time to put that aside, he took the next step forward and bore another son, Beriah, which in Hebrew means, ‘in tragedy’ or ‘a gift’.

Sometimes devouring comes unexpectedly. We are left shock, empty, hopeless, angry and in pain. It may come in the form of financial loss, grief or an attack by the enemy. Mourn, like Ephraim did, but allow yourself to be comforted and take the next step forward. Trust that God, in His love and mercy, will provide.

And generations down the line, you’ll be grateful you did not allow the devouring to devour you through hopelessness.