I have started this blog over about 5 times already- never quite sure what will become of it or how to properly express the turmoil going on inside my head and the peace within my heart.
It’s Sunday afternoon and
I am at my parents. The song “Magnify”
by We are Messengers is on repeat, playing through my computer speakers. Around me, my eyes pick up glimmers of white
mini lights, hidden in the greenery, that mom has put up for this Christmas
season. To my right, flowery displays of
exotic plants capture my sense of smell as I am drawn back to faraway lands;
trying to forget the reason why the house seems to have suddenly become a mini
flower shop in the matter of 48 hours…but more about that later. Outside, nature is doing its part in helping
bring a ‘white Christmas’, as I watch the frozen mix of rain/snow fall from the
sky. On the ground below, there are
still remnants of summer days passed as the green grass is struggling to poke
through the thin layer of snow that has fallen.
I find myself smirking; realizing the irony of it. As much as I would like a snowy/cold white Christmas,
I hate the crappy driving conditions and the debate of ‘should I go out on the
road tonight…if I don’t have too’, that comes with weather like this.
Jesus. Even in a season that has just passed…You were
still GOOD. In the season yet to come,
Jesus you WILL still be GOOD. Jesus,
right here and now- you ARE GOOD.
Little did I know that a
simple text Tuesday afternoon at 3:07 from my mom-asking for me to say a simple
prayer for Grandpa-would be the start of a crazy, unexpected ending to an
otherwise ‘normal’ week. 27 hours later,
instead of finding myself getting ready for another evening of youth, I found
myself caught up in a moment that I never thought I would ever have to experience. With all the experiences that God has brought
me to, and through, I had never experienced HIM quite like I did between 6:00-6:20
that Wednesday evening and I am having a hard time explaining it.
Perhaps, one of the greatest honour's this side
of Heaven, is to be in the same room when someone takes their final breath of
their earthly life. That moment when you
realize that they are now face to face with Jesus…words cannot express it. It is a humbling, tender and a very raw
experience. It is a HOLY moment like nothing I’ve ever felt before. The power within the room, as a person is
released from a broken body and a hurting world…into a complete healing and a pure
FREEDOM…wow…
Death isn’t new. In my own way, I’ve experienced it many times
before. Through the eyes of a 4 year
old, not able to understand why mommy was so sad and why visiting Grandma and
Grandpa on the farm now, would be different because Grandma wouldn’t be
there. Instead being told that, “Grandma
would be with Jesus, watching you play and grow up, from Heaven”. As a child, experiencing the first loss of a
pet and the anger that came with that. As
a pre-teen; seeing the pain in close friends as they lost their grandparents
but being jealous at the fact they HAD their grandparents with them for many
more years than I did mine. As a
teenager, slowly learning to try and understand the death Jesus chose to die on
the cross for me. As a college-aged
young adult-cramming through endless hours of papers and exams; discovering
more of more of WHO Jesus is.
As a college graduate
with a B.A. in Mission, ready to ‘take on the world’, only to have to learn how
to walk through the experience of death once again, as my brother dealt with
the death of a high school classmate in a freak accident. Being told while on my first mission’s trip
to Africa, that the young child I held in my arms, would probably be dead
within the week due to lack of human contact.
A year and a half later, being back in that same hospital in Africa and
hearing the wails of a mother down the hall, whose baby was just born stillborn. Losing my first niece to miscarriage and
learning that 50% of (first) pregnancies end in miscarriages. Learning to deal
with death from afar while in Serbia, when I got news of one of my youth girls
dying in an accident. Wrestling with wanting
to hop on the next flight home, to be with my other girls who I knew were
struggling, but knowing that God had placed me where I was for a reason. Praying for a sick grandma to be healed while
in the Philippians, only to hear that she passed away while we were on our way
back to our contacts a short while later, brought about an anger within me
towards God. While back teaching in Africa,
hearing news that the baby boy we literally just rescued, died due to constipation…
tore at my heart. Bumping along to his
funeral…seeing mounds upon mounds of grave sights…it does something to a
person. It changes how one views life
and death. Arriving home and learning my uncle was sick with an incurable disease
that only 1 in a million Canadians have…seeing his health quickly decline in a
matter of months. Yet, having the honour
of being asked to read his obituary at his funeral. I will never forget that. I took a moment to look up from the pulpit as
I read-there was not a dry eye in that packed church. One life but the impact it had on many…over a
year later and those feelings are still hard to explain what I felt flow
through me in that moment.
Perhaps all those (and
more) prepared me for that Holy
moment on Wednesday.
While I don’t ‘wish’ that
experience on anyone, I am thankful to God that I was able to experience
it. In its own way, even in death, God
revealed His ultimate love to us (me) in a very real, tangible way. After all, wasn’t it God’s ultimate display
of love for you and I that sent Jesus to the cross to die? I know what I felt on Wednesday evening…how
much more powerful, more HOLY, more
filled with LOVE must it have been when the Son of God died.
Although there is a
season to mourn and grieve, I rejoice knowing that someday I too will experience
an earthly death. It is in that moment,
that I look forward to seeing all those who have passed on, before me. More importantly, it is in that moment that I
await, with great anticipation, to hear the words spoken to me (a servant) by
my Master…words that I know my Grandpa heard Wednesday evening… “Well done good
and faithful servant. You have fought
the GOOD fight to the very end. Welcome home
to eternal glory”.
