But

A shift in focus brings a different view. It doesn't make the old view go away, but distracts from the old view for a while. If you have ever spent time with a small child, you will probably have had times when you have seen them fall and graze their knee and it is the worst thing ever. The tears are heartbreaking - you can do nothing to make them stop crying..... until you find something to distract them - until you say to them - I know you are hurting, but just look at that tractor, or how about a sweet..... or.....

A shift in focus brings a different view. It doesn't make the difficult view go away, but it helps to deal with the difficult view better. In our lent studies this week we began with the question 'do you think this community/country/world is getting worse'. The easy answer is often to say yes and have a rant, but the group didn't do that, instead they found a different view. They mourned the difficult bits, the impossible to understand bits - things are getting worse they said, but then, they said, some things are getting better - even in the difficult stuff, a shift of view shows you beauty. I loved that response, and it is the one thing that has stuck with me most from that study. I spoke this week in a meeting about having a box of buts - if we speak of the bad stuff all the time, then it will overwhelm us, swamp us, consume us - so we need to have a box of buts to bring out to shift focus, if only for a short time. 

At the moment we're having to see many difficult views - impossibly difficult. The war in Ukraine is not far from any of our eyes and lips. We are heartbroken for those who are suffering and we don't know how to respond. We try and help through giving and prayer but we really just want it all to stop, and our offerings seem far from enough. We cannot carry our own grief for the world, but we are very aware that people are going through what can only be described as hell, and we want to be able to carry them too.

How do we manage this? How can we carry on when it seems like the world is falling apart?

A shift in focus brings a different view. It doesn't make what is going on disappear. It doesn't take our feelings and brokenness and gut wrenching compassion away, but it does help us cope, it does help us carry, it does help us to keep standing, just for a short while.

It's so easy right now to get caught up in the news of bombings and invasion and seemingly imminent nuclear disaster and it overwhelms us. The news is constant - 24-7 - it never stops. How do we manage it? 

Sometimes perhaps the only answer is to turn it off. Whilst we all know that many people cannot turn it off, because they are living it, it shifts our focus for a while. Have half an hour looking at the birds outside or singing your favourite songs. One of the poignant images in Ukraine is of the small girl singing 'Let it Go' in a safe place underground. That image shifts the focus of those listening away from the outside and the fear of what is next for a short while - that's why they video it so they can watch it again. See how they cope when all is falling apart - in our holding of the difficulties of the world, we can learn from them. 

Sometimes the answer is to dig into the box of buts. Where there is war, there are always peacemakers. Where there is disaster, there are always healers. Where there is sorrow, there is always compassion. Where someone leaves everything behind, there are always others who want to restore what they have lost. Where people are homeless, others provide beds. Where people are on the move, safe refuges are being set up. Where all is lost, there is always more to be found. There are many stories of communities coming together, of people turning their lives upside down so people have somewhere to stay, of the kindness of strangers lifting people on their way. Arm yourself with good news stories in amongst the pain, because those stories help us hold onto hope and remind us that there is always a but that will grab our hand and pull us up. Even a solitary candle can take the darkness away, for a while. 

Sometimes we do need to dwell in the hard stuff. We need to weep. We need to lament. We need to hide. We need to shout. We won't be able to deal with the images we are seeing unless we name how they make us feel. We do need to acknowledge how we feel and give it a name. Our questions will hang in the air, but so often we need to find a peace that means that we can be content to leave them hanging - for now - and that's when the shift of focus for a while might need to kick in again.

I've been reading this week some of the stories of Jesus that we know better than others, and in the midst of news of the war in Ukraine I've found in those stories reassurance that Christ knows, he experienced, he feels the pain of the people of Ukraine. In the wrestling in the garden of Gethsemane when Jesus feels so alone, and those who would normally help him are turned away in sleep. In the loneliness of Good Friday as he hung on that cross, in the loss of the Father as he his son died. In the sorrow of Holy Saturday when all the questions of the week hung silently in the air....... in the story of the escape to Egypt as a toddler, when in danger, Mary, Joseph and Jesus went from reliance of the kindness of the innkeeper to go to a land where their ancestors were once enslaved and found home there for a while. Refuge. Safety. 

In the faces of those fleeing from the bombs and the conflict in Ukraine, we see something of Christ. Each person, made in the image of God, created unique, abandoned by everything they know and fleeing for their lives - Christ knows, Christ understands. Sometimes, the only thing we can do is know that God is there, and he understands. Whilst we cry out to him to change things, we know that he is already in the midst, bringing hope, bringing change, bringing peace, spreading through the underground. 

Even where we can't see, the light is still there.