Mystery Dwelling

Two terribly mysterious and terribly tragic events in one week have my mind-wheels spinning on overdrive. One involving as massive search for a missing jetliner and another involving a small community in rural Minnesota. Both events have caused immense grief and broken hearts for the families and communities of victims. And both have more questions than answers, an incredible amount of mystery in world seemingly teeming with an abundance of explanations.

I've never been thrust into such wonder on both the macro and micro scale at the same time. Most days I am quite comfortable with mystery. There is something thrilling about the unknown. There is also a degree of freedom in a lack of knowledge, an exercise in letting go of having to know the how and why of everything that happens. We usually don't have much choice when the unknown occurs in our lives - a surprising diagnosis, a sudden turn of events, a modern day miracle - we only have the choice of how to respond. So, I can deal with that kind of mystery. I can let go of my need to control and force myself to stay in the moment and assess the 'what now' and the 'so what' rather than obsess over the how's and why's of life's unanswerable questions.

So it goes without saying that I am feeling beyond unsettled and uncomfortable with the mysterious this time around. I understand that a football field sized airplane is still hugely under-matched compared to the vastness of the earth's oceans. I understand that there are many ways to screw up a search and that without sufficient radar or operable transmitters, recovering this Malaysian 777 jetliner is difficult in every sense. But this kind of disappearance is something I'm only okay with when watching television or sitting in a darkened theater. Asking me to accept that in this day and age a flight full of human beings aboard one of the safest modes of transportation in the world can vanish and elude investigators for five days is such a tall order - one that I am incredibly uncomfortable and fearful with. To think that I or a family member could one day board a plane and in two hours time disappear is unfathomable. Disturbing. Maddening. Terrifying. There are no words to adequately describe what happened to Malaysian Airlines Flight 370 on March 8, 2014.

The next mystery hits much closer to home. While it is saddening and awful to think about what is a reality for the families of 239 missing and presumed-dead people on the other side of the world, it is even more devastating when the mystery hits in your own communal backyard. I don't know any of the persons aboard that airplane, nor any of their family members. But when I heard the news that a senior in high school died after fleeing a party in the early hours of a long-awaited spring evening in a neighboring rural town - time stood still in a completely different manner. My heart broke for more than Michael's family - but for an entire community from which he was known and loved. I had the privilege of living and serving in that community for one year while on my pastoral internship, so I know what kind of void a death like his leaves behind. I don't know that a place like that ever fully recovers. There are a few more details available here than there are overseas, but the questions are no less troubling. As much as we want to comfort one another amidst the aftermath of this enormous loss, there's just as much head-shaking and disappointment in the circumstances leading up to this very preventable death. But somehow, at least for right now, our judgment and finger-pointing must take a backseat to our prayers for peace and healing.

For me, dwelling in mystery is usually time well spent. Unfortunately, this is not one of those times.

Figure. It. Out.