On loss and thanksgiving

Som natural tears they drop'd, but wip'd them soon;

The World was all before them, where to choose

Thir place of rest, and Providence thir guide:

They hand in hand with wandring steps and slow,

Through Eden took thir solitarie way.

(Paradise Lost XII.645-649)

My freshman year, in my 17th C poetry class, my professor taught us that one of the most important things we could learn as fallen humans is how to lose. Not "lose" in the sense of a competition, but rather a bereavement. If we could learn to cope with loss successfully, we would be able to grow from the traumas we (inevitably) experience in life, rather than destroy ourselves and others in them. That kind of thing is difficult for an invincible 19-year-old to absorb, although in my case, the recent death of my father was an imminent validation of my professor's point. I don't think anybody wants to dwell on the possibility of losing the things they love most dearly.

This past year, with its collection of anniversaries, revisits, and - quite frankly - disasters, has foregrounded the problem of loss in an inescapable way. Parts of 2017 remind me of 2012, especially in the uncomfortable proximity between extremes that I keep encountering. This has been the most difficult part of "learning to lose" for me to grasp: how do you make sense of gaining and losing when both are happening simultaneously? Loving what cannot be kept, trusting in the wake of betrayal, discovering joy amid sorrow; the past five years have taught me that these are choices, and that they are both exhausting and cyclical.

My professor highlighted this tension in Paradise Lost, as Milton resolves it as a felix culpa, or fortunate fall; we would not experience the joy and hope of redemption if it were not for the despair of the Fall. I'm uncomfortable with the theological assumptions behind this; I get nervous any time we start speaking about the Fall in terms that could suggest necessity or inevitability. Grace, however, is a staggering intervention in it.

I suspect that I will always struggle with the close relationship between gain and loss, but one thing I am learning from my experience in it is gratitude. Despite how bewildering it can be, each instance of blessing amid trial is a mercy from God. We cannot survive the sorrows of this world without divine grace, and sometimes joy amid sorrow is one of the ways God softens the darkness of His providence. We do well to hope in the Gospel present in the curse of Genesis 3.

I read Philippians 4.4-9 recently, and it made me realize how powerful an attitude of thanksgiving is. Gratitude is the core of our sanctification, and I can't think of a more effective response to loss than meditation upon the mercies and goodness God has shown us in our lives.

Rejoice in the Lord always; again I will say, rejoice! Let your gentle spirit be known to all men. The Lord is near. Be anxious for nothing, but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known to God. And the peace of God, which surpasses all comprehension, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus. 

Finally, brethren, whatever is true, whatever is honorable, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is of good repute, if there is any excellence and if anything worthy of praise, dwell on these things. The things you have learned and received and heard and seen in me, practice these things, and the God of peace will be with you.