To All My Hurting Friends and Neighbors
When you hurt, I hurt. When I hear what has happened, I grieve with you. When I see your pain, I wish I could remove it. I can't help it. I'm old enough to understand the ramifications. I know that you will have to work through your grief by yourself. And I know that, no matter how much I want to, I can't change that.
It hurts to see your emotional trauma, your changed life. It hurts me when someone you have loved so much is suddenly gone from this world forever. Death doesn't play favorites; everyone dies eventually. But some people die much too soon, leaving their families behind to pick up the pieces. It doesn't seem fair. It just isn't right.
I was reminded recently that the sudden death of someone who has lived a long, fruitful life can be more traumatic than expected for those left behind, when that active, recently healthy, loved one was expected to live to be a hundred. But nothing compares to a husband's trauma when his wife is suddenly gone, victim of a catastrophic illness or accident, leaving his young children motherless and needing comfort that he is hard-pressed to provide.
So, whether I know you well or not at all, I grieve with you, pray for you, plead with God to grant you the peace and comfort I just can't give. And in my grief, which doesn't begin to match yours, God reminds me that it's okay for me to mourn with you, just as Jesus himself wept with Mary and Martha over the death of his friend, Lazarus. In fact, I am compelled to share your grief:
Carry each other’s burdens, and in this way you will fulfill the law of Christ. Galatians 6:2
When the perishable has been clothed with the imperishable, and the mortal with immortality, then the saying that is written will come true: “Death has been swallowed up in victory.” “Where, O death, is your victory? Where, O death, is your sting?” The sting of death is sin, and the power of sin is the law. But thanks be to God! He gives us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ. 1 Corinthians 15:54-57
It hurts to see your emotional trauma, your changed life. It hurts me when someone you have loved so much is suddenly gone from this world forever. Death doesn't play favorites; everyone dies eventually. But some people die much too soon, leaving their families behind to pick up the pieces. It doesn't seem fair. It just isn't right.
I was reminded recently that the sudden death of someone who has lived a long, fruitful life can be more traumatic than expected for those left behind, when that active, recently healthy, loved one was expected to live to be a hundred. But nothing compares to a husband's trauma when his wife is suddenly gone, victim of a catastrophic illness or accident, leaving his young children motherless and needing comfort that he is hard-pressed to provide.
So, whether I know you well or not at all, I grieve with you, pray for you, plead with God to grant you the peace and comfort I just can't give. And in my grief, which doesn't begin to match yours, God reminds me that it's okay for me to mourn with you, just as Jesus himself wept with Mary and Martha over the death of his friend, Lazarus. In fact, I am compelled to share your grief:
Carry each other’s burdens, and in this way you will fulfill the law of Christ. Galatians 6:2
Which law? As Jesus said, "Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind and with all your strength.’ The second is this: ‘Love your neighbor as yourself.’ There is no commandment greater than these.” Mark 12: 30-31
And when I grieve with you, it's that second law that appears to matter most.
It seems like these past few weeks have become a time to mourn. I have observed my siblings' heartache as they still grieve on the recent anniversaries of their respective loved ones' births and deaths. (No one should have to outlive their children.) The four funerals I've attended in the last two months are four too many. And then, there are those other memorial services that I didn't attend because I live too far away, or because I didn't really know the ones who grieve. Regardless, I have had no choice but to stop and reflect, again, upon the inevitability of death, and the free gift of eternal life that God offers to each of us, through Jesus, his son.
So, we have hope. What would we do without it?
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