OK, I will admit it - Facebook is fascinating - to me.  And I know there are other opinions on this topic which are equally valid.

And let's leave out all the political stuff - the issues of censorship and "cancellation" for now.  That is a whole conversation unto itself.

One of the things about Facebook that is fascinating to me is that it provides you with the opportunity to engage in conversation, or debate, with people you know, and with people you don't know.  Or, you can simply watch a conversation or debate that is going on between two or more people, without taking the risk of getting involved.   

In a way, Facebook posts and comments resemble the old adage of running an idea up the flag-pole and seeing who salutes it.  It is the most public of places to talk - a feature that some people seem to forget at times.  There is such a thing as "over-sharing", and "too much information".

Obviously, there can be no expectation of privacy on Facebook.  You must consider that anything you post is being seen and read by a huge percentage of the population of the Earth.  But even though this is true, there are times when I almost feel as though I am eavesdropping – that I am hearing things that were not necessarily meant for my ears - when  I’m following a conversation on Facebook.

A few days ago, I was "watching" a conversation between two of my Facebook friends - one of whom I have met in person.  I have not actually met the other in person, but I have seen enough of her posts to know she is a deep thinker, and a spiritual leader in her church - a church I attended many years ago during my college days.  Something she wrote in this conversation really caught my eye.  She said that she had been widowed twice – once when her husband from her second marriage died, and once when her first marriage ended in divorce. 

I had never considered anything like this, so I was at first taken by surprise by this statement.  How could this be right when neither party to a divorce has actually died?  Instead, much of my thinking about this subject has always focused on the question of fault.  Who was at fault in the failure of the marriage?  And if there is fault on both sides, which one was more at fault than the other?  In my defense, this is how an attorney looks at most such things. Thus, I was only following my training.  But in doing so, I failed to look beyond the issue of fault, and thus, I failed to see the reality of the tragic result. 

Thankfully, as my friend took the time to explain why she looked upon her divorce as being very much like a death, it became obvious that she was correct.  A divorce brings to an end all of the hopes, all of the dreams, all of the anticipations, all of the expectations that the couple brought into the marriage with so much joy at the beginning.  Divorce means saying good-bye to all of that; divorce means that all of those things must be laid to rest and mourned over.  And then, a whole new way of living must begin – a way of life that had not been anticipated, that had not been prepared for, that was not wanted.  Yes, a divorce is very much like a death.

With all of this swirling in my mind, I began to wonder - how does this new [to me] understanding of divorce affect how the church responds to members, and to visitors and new-comers who have experienced this tragic ending of a marriage?  My hope is that it will take us out of the business of being “fault-finders”, and into the business of being welcomers and comforters and helpers and listeners, and servants.

As I was in the process of thinking through all of this, I received a message.  The wife of one of my dearest friends from my growing up days had suddenly, and completely unexpectedly, passed away.  As my mind reeled from this news, it occurred to me that now my friend is a widower twice – once from this tragic death, and once from the divorce that ended his first marriage.  And this is something I would never have thought about had I not been “eavesdropping” on a spiritual conversation between two of my friends on Facebook just a few days ago.

Which means that, once again, the question of “how will the church respond?” is probably less important than the question of “how will I respond?”  Isn’t it interesting that when we try so hard to make everything about The Church, The Lord finds ways to remind us that we are The Church, that you are The  Church, that I am The Church?  The Church will be, and should be, judged by the world based on my actions, and based on your actions. 

How is The Church doing?  More importantly, how are you doing and how am I doing?  Thanks to a nugget that dropped into my lap while “eavesdropping” on a spiritual conversation between two of my friends on Facebook, I think I have a better handle on what I need to be doing. 

And now, so do you.           

Ambrose Ramsey | Shepherd