From my book Are You Listening?, a reflective prayer I wrote many years ago, exploring how we deal with change and a corresponding sense of loss.
Why did it have to end?
Introduction
The other morning I received a letter from the college where I trained for the ministry, informing me that after long debate and protracted negotiation a new building was to be bought and the old one sold off. Exciting news, we were told, paving the way for a fresh new chapter in the college’s history. Only through this move could the training of Baptist ministers in Bristol be assured into the next millennium. And no doubt this was true. Yet for me, reading that letter, it was hard not to feel a pang of regret, for it meant that a place full of memory, brimming with nostalgia, would soon be changed for ever. Old memories would be wiped away as a new identity was stamped on that familiar and well-loved building. Yet that, of course, is so often true of life. Change is inevitable, and though it may bring pain and a sense of loss we must learn to welcome it.
Read
These things I remember, as I pour out my soul: how I went with the throng and led them in procession to the house of God, with glad shouts and songs of thanksgiving, a multitude keeping festival. Psalm 42:4
The grass withers, the flower fades; but the word of our God will stand for ever. Isaiah 40:8
Heaven and earth will pass away, but my words will not pass away. Luke 21:33
Pray
Why did it have to end, Lord?
We’d worked so hard to reach that moment,
to achieve something lasting and worthwhile,
and life was good,
as we’d always hoped it might be.
Not perfect, of course,
for there were still problems to face
and work to be done,
but we were happy,
at peace with ourselves,
at one with the world.
And we gave our all,
gladly,
joyfully,
wanting nothing,
having everything.
I know I shouldn’t indulge in nostalgia,
but I can’t help it, Lord,
for it was the best time of my life,
and I want to go back to the good old days,
the way things used to be,
for I never realised at the time
how special those days were,
or how much they meant.
I do now, though – all too clearly –
and my heart aches with the memories –
the moments we shared,
the people we knew,
the pleasure we gave,
the joy we received.
It was good, Lord,
a precious, priceless time –
why did it have to end?
My child,
there’s nothing wrong with nostalgia –
never think that.
You’ve experienced much,
and it’s right to recall it,
to reflect on the good times,
to remember the past.
But to try to live there, that would be wrong –
a squandering of the past and denial of the future,
for what’s here today is gone tomorrow,
what one moment is certain
the next may be shaken.
You’re surrounded by change,
each moment,
each day;
nothing, however precious,
however solid,
safe from the passage of time.
Nothing, that is, except my word,
my purpose,
and my love.
It’s in these you must put trust,
where hope alone must rest,
for though heaven and earth may pass away
these will never change.
Look back with thanks,
look forward with hope,
remember the past,
reach out for the future –
for I offer love which endures for ever,
and joy that will never end,
in this life, or the next.