March 31
Easter Eve
Precious in the sight of the Lord is the death of his faithful ones.
Psalm 116:15
My daughter was a typical peer in a preschool
class for special needs children. She
was an ideal fit as she was used to living with someone on the spectrum. She was gracious and outgoing, verbal enough
for two children and she made friends easily.
As happens with little kids, she got sick one day and had to stay home
from school. We found out that her best
friend in the class also got sick and had to stay home. She got better. He didn’t.
He had a lot of physical challenges and his little body was not able to
fight off the complications that came with the virus.
How
do you explain death to a four year old?
How do you explain that life ends and people who were part of your
everyday routine will no longer be around?
How do you respond when she asks why God would allow this or says that
it is not fair? You hold her close and
let her cry and tell her that she is right.
It is not fair. It is not fair
that some of our kids are born with bodies that cannot hold up to the strains
of life. It is not fair that some
parents have to bury their children.
Doesn’t God care?
He
cares. He cares incredibly deeply. It is here, the night before Easter, where we
see that He sat in that exact same place with that exact same loss. He knows what it is like to lose His child
and all of the emotions that go along with that experience. The piercing pain, the gnawing ache, the
numbness of shock…having to go on when you have just buried a piece of your
heart. God the Father, who had always
had His son by His side, stepped into that place of pain and loss willingly,
because He knew it paved the way for us to come back home. It was willing, but it was also painful. God holds the death of a child gingerly,
tenderly, knowing how vulnerable a moment this is for the family.
It
is on the night before Easter that we look at this verse also because even
though God the Father went through the pain, He knew that death was not the end
of the story. There is new life that
comes tomorrow. On the other side of
this night comes resurrection and hope and life everlasting. On the other side of this night comes
connection and celebration, as sweet a reunion as you could imagine. On the other side of this night comes a
promise fulfilled, death defeated and our way home completed.
The
promise of tomorrow does not need to overshadow the emotion of what we suffer
tonight. It is okay to mourn. It is okay to weep. It is okay to seek answers, for we have not
seen the promise yet fulfilled. Tomorrow
we will rejoice and laugh.
Tonight
we can sit in sorrow as we share the burdens of those who have lost their
beloved children. We can do that much.
A moment to reflect:
Who do you know who has lost a
child? Spend a while praying comfort for
them.
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