It's difficult, at this moment in time, to come up with words that seem adequate. I suppose that it's impossible. For days like today, words don't mean anything. I woke up and could do nothing but cry for 20 minutes as I lay in my parents bed, clutching the teddy bear I bought for Parker 3 months ago. The countdown that has been in my phone and in my planner, still moves. It still matters, but I can't stand to look at it.
This morning as I tied my shoes, it occurred to me that my sweet nephew Parker would never do the same. As I breathed in the cool morning air, I choked on the realization that Parker never had the chance.
As I lay in bed last night, mind racing, nowhere for my thoughts to go, I said out loud, "I never got to hold him." And a fresh onslaught of tears overcame me. As I stood in vespers in the hours after hearing the news, the words I was trying so hard to sing, were the words that brought me literally to my knees. I've found it difficult to pray, because I don't know how to. It takes me back to 6 years ago when Justin passed away, I couldn't pray for months. Rather I just closed my eyes, bowed my head, folded my hands, and wept. Trusting that God knew the words I so longed to say to Him.
As Parker drew closer and closer to being, I couldn't help but laugh and smile as I imagined being an Uncle for the first time. Holding him. Gently at first, and as he grew up, tossing him around, throwing him footballs, tickling him just to hear him laugh, falling asleep with him during family get-togethers, bonding with him. I could not wait.
Now as those dreams have crashed into this sorrowful reality, I'm left with memories that never had the chance to happen. I miss Parker dearly, yet I never had the chance to look into his eyes. I never got to feel his hands wrap around my finger. I never even heard him cry. As I stand up to leave this table, I will think to myself, how sad it is that Parker never got to walk himself.
Yet through all of this heartache, through this walk in the valley, my heart yearns to be alone with God. To have Him mend me. I know He will. I know that I will see Jill smile again, and she will laugh again. This I know. I will see her glow. She will make her home beautiful with various crafts and the love that goes into it, and she will spell words wrong, but be so cute about it that no one but me corrects her. She will be the best big sister I could ask for. I will play games with Matt, and we will joke around, and we will argue over whose turn it is in Ticket to Ride. He will once again tell me all about Battlestar Galactica in fruitless efforts to get me to watch. He will love Jill. He will drive her out of his way, and take her out to dinners. They will go on dates, and they will love each other fully, and neither will blame the other, but instead they will weep with each other. And when the time comes, they will once again rejoice with each other.
I know that my Mother, so heartbroken, yet so strong, will smile again at the sight of her children. She will make cheesy comments and send cheesy e-mails, and I will cherish them all the more. We will play hearts again, and she will love every second, even when she loses. I know that my Father will joke again. He'll tell me how much he loves me, and he will poke me, and squeeze my shoulders. He will make funny faces in every picture, and he will trust in God's sovereignty. He will write. He will call women chicks and movies flicks. He will become himself again.
I know that Hillary will be joyful, and take Blade on a walk. She will work hard, and put up with her brothers jokes. She will take life in stride and won't blame God. She will search for answers but not give up when they become difficult to find. She will show her spiritual maturity through good times and bad, and I will look up to her, as I always have.
I know that Sammy will follow God. He will call Blade stupid as he plays with him in love. He will treat everyone with respect and continue to love nerdy things. He will play ultimate in summer and broomball in winter, and excel at both. He will be the perfect brother to me and his sisters, even-keeled, funny, and never out of place.
I know that God will provide for this family. He will not leave us, never forsake us, and always support us. He will never let us fall from His grasp, because nothing on this earth, and nothing not of this earth, can take us away from Him. He will show Himself to us when we can't go on, and He will give us the faith to pull together and be strong. This will not drive us apart, because God holds us together, always has, and always will. God came to this earth for this simple purpose, to die for us all. Parker is with Him now, what a blessing Jesus was for us, for Parker. That He came here so that we can go there, the place we do not deserve to be, by His side.
We cry here at home, "it isn't fair," is all we can say. It isn't fair that God had to lose His son just because we humans fell, but He did, and without complaint. To come here for sinful people, and die, what a sacrifice indeed. Our Lord did this for us, and all we have to do is repent and accept Him into us. What an easy salvation for us.
None of these words will bring Parker back, and none of them will create joy immediately when sorrow is so fresh, and our wounds still bleed. But I pray that God will continue to work even as the trials mount, and it seems too tough to keep believing.
Two verses I cling to:
"You will swallow up death in victory, and You, Lord GOD, will wipe away tears from off all faces...for You, Lord, have spoken it." Isaiah 25:8
"My eye is consumed because of grief; it grows old because of all my enemies. Depart from me, all you workers of wrongdoing, for the LORD has heard the voice of my weeping. The LORD has heard my supplication; the LORD will receive my prayer." Psalm 6:7-9
Monday, September 21, 2009
Monday, September 14, 2009
Isaiah 43:25
"I, even I, am the one who wipes out your transgressions for My own sake, And I will not remember your sins."
Isaiah 43:25
This verse boggles my mind. I think in all of the Old Testament that I've read, it is the best verse that describes how God forgives us. It also shows most clearly (to me) how different we are from God.
God created us in His own image, and I don't dispute that, but I guess if nothing else, this verse really pounds into my head the fact that we are so fallen. We sin, and God forgives, and not only that, he also doesn't even remember them. He wipes them away. I "forgive" all the time, but does that mean I don't remember who slighted me, how, why, when, and where? No. I remember slights and wrongs so vividly sometimes that only decades can wash them away. Even now as I write, the smallest sliver of me holds on to grudges stemming from interactions long since past.
So what do we do? We "weary" God with our "iniquities." We "burden" Him with our sins. Every time I'm really convicted of sin, I make the decision to just not sin anymore. "I won't do this again, Lord." I say that. And I truly desire to fulfill that promise, but more and more as I grow up, I realize that while it is crucial that I keep trying, it is even more crucial to realize that I never will be perfect, not while on this earth. The key is to not use it as an excuse, but rather as an impetus. Rather than whining about how nothing will ever be good enough, we must humbly request forgiveness from our Father, and accept it fully and graciously from Him. The best way to honor Him is to trust that He truly is powerful enough to wipe our slates clean and give us second, third, fourth, and hundredth chances.
So this is where my head has been at this afternoon, I hope people can take a small nugget, and hopefully ultimately be encouraged. Because that is my goal in writing. I long to affirm and encourage, even if at times I seem like I hate my sinful self (for the record...I do.), I know that in the end, that sinful self is gonna go the way of the VCR, and that, my friends, is good news.
Seth
Isaiah 43:25
This verse boggles my mind. I think in all of the Old Testament that I've read, it is the best verse that describes how God forgives us. It also shows most clearly (to me) how different we are from God.
God created us in His own image, and I don't dispute that, but I guess if nothing else, this verse really pounds into my head the fact that we are so fallen. We sin, and God forgives, and not only that, he also doesn't even remember them. He wipes them away. I "forgive" all the time, but does that mean I don't remember who slighted me, how, why, when, and where? No. I remember slights and wrongs so vividly sometimes that only decades can wash them away. Even now as I write, the smallest sliver of me holds on to grudges stemming from interactions long since past.
So what do we do? We "weary" God with our "iniquities." We "burden" Him with our sins. Every time I'm really convicted of sin, I make the decision to just not sin anymore. "I won't do this again, Lord." I say that. And I truly desire to fulfill that promise, but more and more as I grow up, I realize that while it is crucial that I keep trying, it is even more crucial to realize that I never will be perfect, not while on this earth. The key is to not use it as an excuse, but rather as an impetus. Rather than whining about how nothing will ever be good enough, we must humbly request forgiveness from our Father, and accept it fully and graciously from Him. The best way to honor Him is to trust that He truly is powerful enough to wipe our slates clean and give us second, third, fourth, and hundredth chances.
So this is where my head has been at this afternoon, I hope people can take a small nugget, and hopefully ultimately be encouraged. Because that is my goal in writing. I long to affirm and encourage, even if at times I seem like I hate my sinful self (for the record...I do.), I know that in the end, that sinful self is gonna go the way of the VCR, and that, my friends, is good news.
Seth
Wednesday, August 12, 2009
The Wound-Dresser
The Wound-Dresser has long been a favorite poem of mine. This (http://www.bartleby.com/42/818.html) Civil War era poem by Walt Whitman is about a man who serves as, you guessed it, a wound-dresser, in a Civil War medical triage of sorts. He witnesses many gruesome injuries, and is quite affected, obviously, by the men he sees. So young, so vibrant, so seemingly innocent. They came into war innocent boys and left it callous, automated, nearly sub-human men. The line of the poem that has always sent a chill down my spine, is this:
"One turns to me his appealing eyes—poor boy! I never knew you,
Yet I think I could not refuse this moment to die for you, if that would save you."
This man, this wound-dresser, is so affected by the eyes of these young men, suddenly so innocent once again in the face of their own deaths, that he is willing to lay down his life to save them, and give them the hope of a future. In that glance, the wound-dresser (most likely this would be Whitman, as he did help in these military triage units during the war, as he was too old to be needed for fighting) sees the young men as perfect people. He does not see the men that they have killed, he does not see the things that they have thought throughout their lives, he has not seen these young men sinning day to day, unrepentant for the most part, and he has not seen every horrible, evil deed they may have committed. All he sees is the light in their eyes, dimming. The darkness of the sins clouding their hearts, he sees not.
"For while we were still helpless, at the right time Christ died for the ungodly. For one will hardly die for a righteous man; though perhaps for a good man someone would even dare to die. But God demonstrates His own love toward us, in that while we were yet sinners, Christ died for us." Romans 5:6-8
Wow.
Now, as I sit here in bed, with the prospect of waking up for work at 6:45 looming over me, I'm awestruck by how quickly and easily I lose sight of the fact that I am a no-good, dirty sinner, who has no right saying God's name even in prayer, and God, my eternal, heavenly, all-powerful Father...died. For me. His son Jesus, a literal piece of Himself, chose, and yes, it was a choice, to die for me. To sacrifice himself at my feet, as I spat in His face. How does one live a life to make this sacrifice fair? One can't. There is absolutely nothing I can do in this life to earn a pat on the back from God as I enter His Kingdom. God has had grace on me, and that is it. The least that I can do, is offer up my body, however weak, and my life, however messy, to service in His name.
Jesus makes that wound-dresser look like a sissy! It's one thing to long to die for someone, to sacrifice one's self. But Jesus DID it! He actually followed through, and all along, He was aware of how unworthy I am. It can't have been easy. I couldn't do it.
Well, my eyes are drooping as I type, but I really felt like I needed to write on the parallel I saw in this poem. The incredible difference between a human's desire to sacrifice, and God's act of sacrifice.
Walk in the light, people.
God Bless
Seth
"One turns to me his appealing eyes—poor boy! I never knew you,
Yet I think I could not refuse this moment to die for you, if that would save you."
This man, this wound-dresser, is so affected by the eyes of these young men, suddenly so innocent once again in the face of their own deaths, that he is willing to lay down his life to save them, and give them the hope of a future. In that glance, the wound-dresser (most likely this would be Whitman, as he did help in these military triage units during the war, as he was too old to be needed for fighting) sees the young men as perfect people. He does not see the men that they have killed, he does not see the things that they have thought throughout their lives, he has not seen these young men sinning day to day, unrepentant for the most part, and he has not seen every horrible, evil deed they may have committed. All he sees is the light in their eyes, dimming. The darkness of the sins clouding their hearts, he sees not.
"For while we were still helpless, at the right time Christ died for the ungodly. For one will hardly die for a righteous man; though perhaps for a good man someone would even dare to die. But God demonstrates His own love toward us, in that while we were yet sinners, Christ died for us." Romans 5:6-8
Wow.
Now, as I sit here in bed, with the prospect of waking up for work at 6:45 looming over me, I'm awestruck by how quickly and easily I lose sight of the fact that I am a no-good, dirty sinner, who has no right saying God's name even in prayer, and God, my eternal, heavenly, all-powerful Father...died. For me. His son Jesus, a literal piece of Himself, chose, and yes, it was a choice, to die for me. To sacrifice himself at my feet, as I spat in His face. How does one live a life to make this sacrifice fair? One can't. There is absolutely nothing I can do in this life to earn a pat on the back from God as I enter His Kingdom. God has had grace on me, and that is it. The least that I can do, is offer up my body, however weak, and my life, however messy, to service in His name.
Jesus makes that wound-dresser look like a sissy! It's one thing to long to die for someone, to sacrifice one's self. But Jesus DID it! He actually followed through, and all along, He was aware of how unworthy I am. It can't have been easy. I couldn't do it.
Well, my eyes are drooping as I type, but I really felt like I needed to write on the parallel I saw in this poem. The incredible difference between a human's desire to sacrifice, and God's act of sacrifice.
Walk in the light, people.
God Bless
Seth
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