The unknown power of a lifeless bear

Psalm 34:18 “The Lord is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit.”

The Lingering Longing

Every child is born with an innate longing for stability, comfort, and companionship. For some, this longing manifests itself in caring for a doll, for others it is a sweet blanket from their nana, a thumb sucking habit or even a pacifier. The most common symbol of this object of our desire for comfort is the classic Teddy Bear.

It is soft, often ragged or “well-loved,” and is seldom forgotten on a long family trip or scary moment in a child’s life. It is often seen in the arms of a small child during a dental visit or their first day of school. It can be found clutched tightly during bedtime, on airplanes, or held close when tears are streaming down their face.

This lifeless little bear provides a sense of stability in times of fear and comfort in loneliness. For my Ethan, it is his lamb… “Lamby”.. He never has been the most created with names. He has a “Turty” the turtle, “Whaley” the whale, “Tig-ey” the tiger, but most importantly, his “Lamby”, the faithful lamb who has been with him through it all. Lamby did disappear for a few weeks and magically returned to us 3 weeks later and somehow grew! We determined he must have gone off to school to grow up. Lamby was there for bike ride falls, scary appointments and many first days. She is his constant companion. 

As we age, this longing for stable, comforting companionship does not vanish, but in essence, it only deepens and morphs into a more mature version of the same hunger. We may rename it or disguise it, but it is written on every heart. We try to fill this void hunger with friends, routines, romance or sentimentality.

Grown-Up Teddy Bears

As adults, like children, we look for comfort in fleeting things. Of course, we have outgrown the plush childhood toy, unless you’re my unnamed relative who still snuggles her beloved blanket every night, even after recently turning 42….

It may be that losing our cherished teddy for the tenth time (and receiving Mom’s fourth lookalike replacement) taught us, even then, that nothing in this world is permanent.

Now we have traded that teddy for a more grown-up form of security: a best friend who always answers the phone, a spouse we call our “rock,” or a job that feels “safe.” We lean on the familiar smell of our favorite morning coffee or the habitual walk through the neighborhood.

Before we know it, we have made an idol out of the good gifts from our Heavenly Father.

But these, too, are comforts that crumble with time. The friend becomes overwhelmed by her own family crisis. The husband drifts into a midlife fog of emotional absence. The job we built our rhythms around disappears in the next round of restructuring. As steady as that morning coffee or weekly catch-up call has seemed, they will all eventually fall short of the weight we ask them to carry. They were never meant to bear the load of our soul.

The Power of Presence

This past week, I braved the mountain with 600 middle schoolers at Camp Ocoee in Tennessee. The entire week was chock-full of hilarious absurdities, emotional turbulence, explosive energy, and if you were paying close attention, beautifully sacred moments where Jesus met these little ones exactly where they were.

I had the privilege of witnessing many precious moments this week, one of which was between a young boy and his father and cabin leader. The boy was consumed by home-sickness and a wave of loneliness. Teary-eyed and vulnerable, he came to his father, and I witnessed the father kneel down to eye-level. With compassion and tenderness, the father brought his son into his arms and softly ran his fingers through his son’s hair, offering quiet assurance. As the son’s eyes poured out the tears he was holding back, the father showed up for him, not to change the circumstances, but to simply be present with him in his hour of need. There was a softening in the little boy’s posture as he was brought in close, warmed by love. He quivered as he slowly became calm exhaling and relaxing into the safety and calm of his father’s presence.

The circumstances did not change. The harsh reality of the summer sun and the distance from home, the volume and energy of the spinning middle school camp reality was still there, but for this little moment, he recognized the presence of someone he trusted, someone safe.

Homesick for Heaven

We are all in need of this moment away from the noise, to rest and relax in the presence and comfort of our heavenly father. You see, we were not made for this world. We are all homesick in some way. Perhaps it’s the trepidatious road we are on with no certainty to find. Or the waves of grief relentlessly pour over us month after month. It may be that our very identity is crumbling beneath our feet as we were exposed then neglected by the people we thought we could trust. This longing and ache remind me of Andrew Peterson’s song, “The Rain Keeps Falling”. 

“I’m scared if I open myself to be known, I’ll be seen and despised and left all alone, so I’m stuck in this tomb and you won’t move the stone and the rain keeps falling…My daughter and I put the seeds in the dirt and every day now we’ve been watching the earth for a sign that this death will give way to a birth and the rain keeps falling“

Like the relentless rain, our grief and waiting can feel endless, but we are pointed toward hope: Beneath the storm, God is always at work, stirring up new life, even when we cannot see it.

Jesus: The Only True Constant

Despite the turbulence of this world, despite its voids and its thievery, there is something consistent, something reliable we can depend on. We are given eternal life, the fullness of joy. The amazing thing that comes with our salvation, is that we do not have to wait for heaven.

Joy is available today. And I’m not talking about a quick happiness that is fleeting.

The joy is deep, even in the midst of anxiety and depression. This eternal joy is life and is given immediately when you receive Jesus. John 17:3 says “Now this is eternal life: that they know you, the only true God, and Jesus Christ, whom you have sent.” and in 5:24, “whoever…believes…has eternal life.” and again in 2 Corinthians 5:17 “If anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation. The old has passed away; behold the new has come.”

He is Emmanuel, God with us, and when you receive him, he will never leave or forsake you. He simply cannot, because he has promised, and He who promised is faithful. As the world shifts around you, as people abandon or fail you, He never changes. As the road beneath you quakes, and the rain keeps falling, His steadfast love endures forever.

The teddy bear was useful for a brief season of childhood. The bear, like all beautiful gifts of this life, is a shadow of the glorious gift of the unending perfect presence of our heavenly father. We do not hold him, but His arms surrounds us. He sustains and holds us close, and He will never take his presence away from us. 

Maybe in your longing, in the aches you feel right now…there is an invitation.

You are being invited to press into the always available presence of your heavenly father. Take your aches to him, and tell him of your longings.

Lament. Grieve. Mourn what isn’t and what can never be. In your homesickness, you may see that heaven has come down to you. Even in the wanting of this world, you were never without the father’s love. It is here, in your aching, in your loneliness, in your loss. God may not take away your depression immediately as you demand in this moment, but he is faithful to be with you through it. You are longing for more, because you know deep within your soul that you were made for more than what is here. But His presence is closer than you think.

Call out to him, and he will be near.

The arm of the Lord is not too short to save, nor his ear too dull to hear. Isaiah 59
- Rachel