“We would say death is…(long somewhat awkward pause)…imminent”. The hospice nurse gave me a knowing look, and I felt a heightening of a thousand emotions that had been swirling around my heart. Shallena - my bride of almost 21 years was dying.
The nurse left, and we were alone. It was a rainy day in a rainy month – a fitting
backdrop for the goodbye I didn’t want to say. Shallena was home on hospice. Not eating, not drinking, essentially unable
to move. But hope is strong, and I found
every possible reason to hope!
Just three nights ago I had crawled in her bed and
snuggled up to her. For well over an hour and a half we talked. Well, I talked,
and she responded with any way she could - nonspecific vocalizations at times,
wiggly toes at times, whole body wiggles for the really important ones. I told
her I had not given up on her, I told her we were thinking about doing a
children’s church in Crestline (wiggly toes and vocalizations), I told her I
thought maybe I shouldn’t snuggle with her as it might be uncomfortable (full
on fit!!), I told her I was understanding the children more, and I realized
Caleb needed extra attention as he is only six (contented vocalization and soft
wiggly toes). She stayed awake far longer than expected, and we just talked
over our life.
Now she was really dying, and for our last
afternoon together I read her the sturdy Scriptures – “I am the resurrection
and the life”, “He who dwells in the secret place of the Most High shall abide
under the shadow of the Almighty”, “God is our refuge and strength, an ever-present
help in trouble”. I sang/cried her the
goodbye song I had written and sang/cried 23 years earlier when she was leaving
for Albania. I held her hand and gave her
morphine to try and ease her breathing. What is the right way to walk your love
into the shadow of death?
When she had breathed her last, I felt something
snap inside. Far below the level of conscious thought or reason, raw grief came
pouring out like a flood I could not have expected or desired. At first it was
hot anger - a relative stranger to me – just burning and seething for a few
minutes. Then in notes that I would never want to
repeat, I gave voice to my grief. This went on for about 20 minutes, then I sat
next to her dead body and just cried. I didn’t know what to do! How can you say
goodbye to the best part of yourself? Especially when you have failed at love
in so many ways you will never have again on this earth?
The next days/weeks/months brought all of the
emotions of a mixed up basket case….
“Okay, a new day…The Lord gave, the Lord took
away, May the name of the Lord be praised.” Sun's up, feeling a little bit normal, and
maybe even a twinkle of hope. Then I walk into the closet, and there is
Shallena’s bright pink Adidas shirt that always made both of us smile because
she wore it for exciting days – hikes, rockhounding, and camping!!! “She’ll never wear it again…boo-hoo-hoo…” I
close the bedroom door to try and shield the kids a bit as I wallow around in
my lost uselessness.
That little scene has played over and over again in the last
couple months.
While nobody escapes the pain of grief, we don’t
love to embrace it. It hurts.
I think I trust God in all this, but there are
definitely unresolved parts, too.
The word that I think best describes my state of mind is “lost”. I feel like I have lost part of myself – the best
part, and I don’t know who I am any longer.
I accept the sovereignty and love of God, but I am trying to figure out
who I am now? Part of me is missing.
I have also noticed that we are more comfortable
in a room full of fake laughter than a room full of raw pain - but we all have
raw pain. God has raw pain. Why do we try to gloss over our reality for a show
that does nothing to help us?
I think it is because most of us are trying to
live in functional denial of our mortality, but that does us no good. We know
we are going to the grave - why do we try to deny it? Wouldn’t it be better to be prepared for that trip?
But I think there is a bigger opportunity in this grief, than
just honest melancholy. An experience
that goes further than feelings, and an understanding that can only truly be
experienced through significant loss. I
am just starting to understand it.
“The Lord is close to the brokenhearted.” Psalm 34:18. Why is God close to the brokenhearted? Doesn’t He love all the same? I think He does. Then why a special
closeness? I’m sure there are many possible
answer to this, but here is mine.
God is close to the brokenhearted because He is
brokenhearted. In all
the vast animate creation, no being loves more than God – the great “I am” is “Love”.
He doesn’t practice love or bestow and remove it - He is it. As sin has frustrated His creation, He has
lost those He loves – more than any other being. God has more “love with no
place to go” than any of us. I have lost
one very special love this year – God has lost millions. It turns out that sorrow and pain are very
reasonable responses to the havoc sin has reeked all over our world. Jesus is described
in Isaiah 53 as a “man of sorrows, and acquainted with grief”. I used to read the Bible and hear a lot of
anger in the Old Testament. Now I hear a
brokenhearted God saying, “Why will you die when I could help you?”
“How can I give you up, Ephraim? How can I hand you over,
Israel? How can I treat you like Admah? How can I treat you like Zeboyim? [cities
near Sodom and Gomorrah]. My heart is
changed within me; all my compassion is aroused.” Hosea 11:8. Here is brokenhearted
God suffering agonizing grief. He is losing His love…again...and He is not
losing His love to a short sleep which will end in resurrection, immortality,
and eternal bliss. She is not holding His
hand as He sings to her – she is cursing Him to His face as the pale mottling
of death creeps over her brow. He is
losing His love forever…again…and it hurts...again.
Hear Him again in Ezekiel, “Turn! Turn from your evil ways!
Why will you die, people of Israel?” 33:11.
When the “man of sorrows” God came to walk our sod, we hear
the same cry – the same love. “Jerusalem,
Jerusalem, you who kill the prophets and stone those sent to you, how often I
have longed to gather your children together, as a hen gathers her chicks under
her wings, and you were not willing.” Matthew 23:37. Here is brokenhearted God clothed
in humanity mourning over another love that is lost. The grief of God can only be appreciated as
we comprehend the love of God. He loves so much – He has lost so much. What does God do with all of His love that
has no place to go?
“Jesus wept” John 11:35. Deeply significant is this
pain. I’m sure that Jesus laughed – even
though I don’t remember reading it – but
I know He cried. He was still losing those
He loved. It is easy to appreciate that there is a lot to weep about in this
world.
As God has to give up those who reject Him – He grieves and
mourns – as only a loving God can. Some
people call this His wrath, I call it His love. Romans 1 describes this process in painful
detail.
Now I know somebody will disagree with the idea of any
brokenness or strong emotions in Almighty God - that He is so perfect, powerful
and awesome that He cannot be affected by our insignificant pain. To this
thought, I respectfully reply – Hogwash!
This is not the God of the Bible – especially not as revealed in
Jesus. He knows us, He loves us, He
feels our pain, He mourns with us, and grieves when we reject Him. He has eaten with us, wept with us, lost with
us, bled with us, and died with us. Our
sin and brokenness have broken God’s heart.
He has lost more than any in this great controversy, and in His big omniscient,
omnipotent, omnipresent brokenness, He is near – right here near!!! – to those
who are brokenhearted.
One day He will wipe our tears away and make all things
new. Today He weeps with us.
“The Lord is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who
are crushed in spirit.” Psalms 34:18
