If You Were Here
I've been reflecting on the deaths I have experienced in my life. Death, and the grief that follows, is an isolating experience. Even though others are experiencing the same loss, even they seem like outsiders. They had a different relationship with that person. And, their loss looks and feels different. Not only was their relationship different, but their personality and the way they individually grieve is different. It is in the midst of this difficult time that the world feels completely other. While you feel like things will never be the same, the world and all your friends continue on, as if this life altering event doesn't even stretch to touch the confines of their life.
Then time goes on, we grieve, we heal, and we "get on" with our lives. Sometimes that takes a couple months, sometimes a few years.
But, if you're like me, you never forget. I still remember very distinctly those experiences of loss, those moments, those funerals, those tears, the grief that followed... They don't consume me as they once did, but they very much have played a critical role in my personal formation. These losses have shaped me, helped me to grow, and have given me a greater appreciation for life.
I think very distinctly they mark epochs in my journey of faith. They were moments where the Lord extended His hand, asking me to go deeper. In some instances, I went where He wanted to take me, and in others, I just ran as hard and as fast as I could in the opposite direction. Because running (sometimes literally, going on hard runs) was easier than entering into the pain. But even when I ran, the Lord met me there, not with harsh words or condemnation, but with His gentle, loving presence...
In John's Gospel, we are provided with a beautiful account of how our Lord Jesus enters into our grief and experiences death alongside us. Now, many of you are probably jumping directly to John 11:35 - "And Jesus wept." - the shortest and one of the most powerful verses in all of Scripture, but I'm going to be a little uncouth, and bring us to 11:21-22.
Martha, who is at home with her sister and all the Jews who came to grieve with them, hears that Jesus is on His way. He's "late" by the world's standards. Her brother has been dead and in his tomb for days. What good does His visit do? Nevertheless, she rushes out to greet Him before He even enters the town. I can only imagine Martha must have ran straight into Jesus's arms, and the moment she felt the security and safety of His presence, tears flowed freely from her eyes. His presence, even when He seemingly isn't doing anything, changes everything.
Martha said to Jesus, “Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died. But even now I know that whatever you ask of God, God will give you.”
It's the second sentence that gets me - "But even now I know that whatever you ask of God, God will give you." Just by Jesus being there, here in Martha's moment of heartbreak and suffering, her faith is confirmed and strengthened. She knows our Lord's power, His ability to prevent death. But what she also knows is the power of His presence, His deep love for her and her sister Mary. She knows that even though her brother is already in the tomb, Jesus did not forget her. He could never forget her. He could never leave her orphaned.
In prayer, I've imagined this scene a million times! But never had I imagined it in the context of the deaths of my own loved ones. I had always used it as a contextual reference point - what is God's perspective on human death. But, recently, I asked the Lord, what would it look like if you walked through the doors during so and so's funeral? How would I react?
My response? I would move just as Martha did - sprinting towards Him, running to His arms, the moment I was there balling my eyes out, letting his shoulder absorb my pain and sadness. I would utter through my sobs, "Lord, if you had been here, my friend/my family member would not have died." Imagining this, I realized once you recognize the Lord's presence in the midst of your suffering, it is so much easier to say: "But even now I know that whatever you ask of God, God will give you." Not necessarily because I have Martha's faith, but because the presence of someone who loves you changes everything. Someone walking alongside you when you can't see straight through your tear stained eyes. Someone hugging you as your voice breaks when you talk about the one you lost. Someone who is just there.
Presence. Even when I felt alone and isolated in the midst of these deaths, I had friends and family members who were present to me. Not always knowing what to say. Not always completely understanding my grief. But, they were there. They were there to hear me talk about Mrs. Comido's baked ziti and to enjoy a Rolling Rock. They were there to hear about all the basketball games Grandmom and Grandpop came to. They were there to sit with me when I didn't have any words about Grandpa and when I couldn't stop laughing about how he drove his truck across the high school's landscaping. They were there to sit with me in the shock of Matthew's death. They were there.
And it was through their loving presence, I encountered our Lord's presence in the midst of my suffering. "Lord, if you had been here..." But I can't say that, because He was there. He was there the whole time. Through His body, the body of Christ, our Church. Through those individuals. And it is because of His constant presence I am able to say: "Even now, I know that whatever you ask of God, God will give you."
Then time goes on, we grieve, we heal, and we "get on" with our lives. Sometimes that takes a couple months, sometimes a few years.
But, if you're like me, you never forget. I still remember very distinctly those experiences of loss, those moments, those funerals, those tears, the grief that followed... They don't consume me as they once did, but they very much have played a critical role in my personal formation. These losses have shaped me, helped me to grow, and have given me a greater appreciation for life.
I think very distinctly they mark epochs in my journey of faith. They were moments where the Lord extended His hand, asking me to go deeper. In some instances, I went where He wanted to take me, and in others, I just ran as hard and as fast as I could in the opposite direction. Because running (sometimes literally, going on hard runs) was easier than entering into the pain. But even when I ran, the Lord met me there, not with harsh words or condemnation, but with His gentle, loving presence...
In John's Gospel, we are provided with a beautiful account of how our Lord Jesus enters into our grief and experiences death alongside us. Now, many of you are probably jumping directly to John 11:35 - "And Jesus wept." - the shortest and one of the most powerful verses in all of Scripture, but I'm going to be a little uncouth, and bring us to 11:21-22.
Martha, who is at home with her sister and all the Jews who came to grieve with them, hears that Jesus is on His way. He's "late" by the world's standards. Her brother has been dead and in his tomb for days. What good does His visit do? Nevertheless, she rushes out to greet Him before He even enters the town. I can only imagine Martha must have ran straight into Jesus's arms, and the moment she felt the security and safety of His presence, tears flowed freely from her eyes. His presence, even when He seemingly isn't doing anything, changes everything.
Martha said to Jesus, “Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died. But even now I know that whatever you ask of God, God will give you.”
It's the second sentence that gets me - "But even now I know that whatever you ask of God, God will give you." Just by Jesus being there, here in Martha's moment of heartbreak and suffering, her faith is confirmed and strengthened. She knows our Lord's power, His ability to prevent death. But what she also knows is the power of His presence, His deep love for her and her sister Mary. She knows that even though her brother is already in the tomb, Jesus did not forget her. He could never forget her. He could never leave her orphaned.
In prayer, I've imagined this scene a million times! But never had I imagined it in the context of the deaths of my own loved ones. I had always used it as a contextual reference point - what is God's perspective on human death. But, recently, I asked the Lord, what would it look like if you walked through the doors during so and so's funeral? How would I react?
My response? I would move just as Martha did - sprinting towards Him, running to His arms, the moment I was there balling my eyes out, letting his shoulder absorb my pain and sadness. I would utter through my sobs, "Lord, if you had been here, my friend/my family member would not have died." Imagining this, I realized once you recognize the Lord's presence in the midst of your suffering, it is so much easier to say: "But even now I know that whatever you ask of God, God will give you." Not necessarily because I have Martha's faith, but because the presence of someone who loves you changes everything. Someone walking alongside you when you can't see straight through your tear stained eyes. Someone hugging you as your voice breaks when you talk about the one you lost. Someone who is just there.
Presence. Even when I felt alone and isolated in the midst of these deaths, I had friends and family members who were present to me. Not always knowing what to say. Not always completely understanding my grief. But, they were there. They were there to hear me talk about Mrs. Comido's baked ziti and to enjoy a Rolling Rock. They were there to hear about all the basketball games Grandmom and Grandpop came to. They were there to sit with me when I didn't have any words about Grandpa and when I couldn't stop laughing about how he drove his truck across the high school's landscaping. They were there to sit with me in the shock of Matthew's death. They were there.
And it was through their loving presence, I encountered our Lord's presence in the midst of my suffering. "Lord, if you had been here..." But I can't say that, because He was there. He was there the whole time. Through His body, the body of Christ, our Church. Through those individuals. And it is because of His constant presence I am able to say: "Even now, I know that whatever you ask of God, God will give you."
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