For Those of You with Empty Chairs

Thanksgiving day sometimes seems to be a more difficult day than a joyful one. Many of us treat it as a day off of work, or a nice break from class; a day for a feast and some football. A day when lots of family comes, and new memories are made... But I can't help but feel the heaviness for most of America on Thanksgiving day. I know there is a story to be told beyond the turkey and fat pants.

Many of us sit down for dinner with an empty seat at the end of the table. Maybe it's where a mom or a dad or a husband or a wife or a sibling should be sitting. A mom that passed away 9 years ago, or a dad that walked out. A brother that is in rehab, or a parent that lies in a hospital bed hundreds of miles away. We feel a sense of lonliness, or defeat on days like today. We know that we have an abundance of things to be thankful for, but there is a thick and overwhelming feeling of losing someone that way outweighs our thoughts of thanksgiving.

It's okay to feel that way.

“My story is important not because it is mine, God knows, but because if I tell it anything like right, the chances are you will recognize that in many ways it is also yours… it is precisely through these stories in all their particularity, as I have long believed and often said, that God makes himself known to each of us more powerfully and personally." - Frederick Buechner

There is a man who has played an extraordinary role in my life. He became one of my biggest fans, and greatest friends when I was about 8 years old. He taught me all kinds of things in life; how to throw a football was one among many. He took interest in my life, gave me a nickname, told me jokes... He knew exactly what it meant to be a friend and to have a friend - He taught me more about investing in people than I have ever fully realized, and it wasn't by a lengthy lecture, but rather the way that he lived his life. A few years later, He was used to teach me the power of prayer. He was diagnosed with throat cancer, and was given 6 months to live. I was 11 years old, and I knew that the bible says that "by His stripes, we are healed" so I thought I would take God at his word, and began to proclaim that over this man. He was fighting a battle for his life, and I knew that as his friend I was fighting it with him. I also knew that God was for me, and that nothing could stand against me. Eight years later He is still alive, and I've had the opportunity to see him come out of the valley of the shadow of death, and into the land of the living. I've seen him regain his strength, and learn how to eat real food again. God was reteaching him the way of life, but in a new light. I saw hope in his eyes, and heard joy in his laughter. A couple months ago he was diagnosed with pre-luekemia. Tonight he continues to battle for his life. My heart has been broken this week. I knew that I wouldn't be sitting across from him at dinner tonight, and it killed me. I have no doubt that he will be back at that table next year, but his story paints a picture of the millions of people who easily identify with me and with him.

This isn't easy, people. It's tough. It's testing, and heartbreaking and draining.

The truth is that God still sits on the throne. He is the same today as he was yesterday, and he will be tomorrow. His Holy Spirit still dwells in us, and what satan intends for evil and defeat, God turns around for good. Sometimes it's really difficult to see the sun through the clouds; but it's always there. The truth is that you are not alone in your heartbreak or mourning or anger. It's okay that we feel those things, because it reminds us that we are human. We will deal with suffering and tragedy, but we get to walk in the land of the living, because Jesus already overcame the world. We are victorious. The truth is that tomorrow is a new beginning; a fresh start. It's a reminder that we are still alive, and we have a story to tell.

What did you learn from the individual that you're thinking about? Chances are they taught you that particular thing for a reason, and I believe that often times it's so that you will teach it to someone else. We have a role to play while we are here - We learn so that we can practice, and in return, teach.

You are still here for a purpose. Your story matters. Maybe it's time you tell it to somebody.