A Death

Photo by Allef Vinicius

A couple of weeks ago, my friend of 24 years lost her dad to cancer. He lived a few short weeks after receiving the terminal diagnosis. Though I grieved for her loss, this death also stirred up so many emotions in me. Upon hearing the news, my initial reaction was the care and concern for her as I was all too familiar with the pain of such a loss. I wanted my experience to be of comfort and help, but what I did not count on was my reaction to the tragedy. Obviously, I knew this would rub a tender spot in my heart. I did not, however, realize that tender spot was still a gaping hole. Has there been no healing over all these years? When life happens, we realize the depths of unresolved matters, unhealed hurts, unforgiveness, brokenness still left unmended, and what is hidden is painfully brought to light.

The death of my father was the catalyst of my derailment from my Christian walk. Just prior to the total upheaval in my life, I had already begun to dabble in the world as they say. One foot in and one foot out, I was dangling between my faith and the curiosity about a life I wanted to experience. I was losing my spiritual footing as the church where I had attended since I was a child split. The pastor left to shepherd another flock and many of those who I had known for nearly all my life did not follow. Shortly after, I married the man I had loved for four years. Within months, my dad would be moved to Emory hospital in Atlanta to wait for a heart that would never come. By this time, the honeymoon was over. My new husband and I were not adjusting at all to life in the real world. Several trips to Atlanta were taking their toll on our finances and life was indeed extremely hard. 

I never fathomed I would lose my dad at such an early age. Naively, I figured this was just something that would be used to bring God glory on the day He completely healed him. God did not see fit to do so and I felt like that was a betrayal of all the years our family had faithfully served Him. "He's gone," the nurse said ever so bluntly. Such finality in those words.

My dad left his earth the day after my one-year wedding anniversary. There was more than one death that day. I experienced the death of a father, the death of a marriage, and it was indeed the death of me. The life I knew was no more. I gave up that day and I ran as hard and as fast as I could from the God who took my pastor, my husband, and my dad all within a very short, very devastating period.

As I look back now, I see the hand of God in many ways. For example, my mom had been temporarily moved from the home where she shared a bed with my father. When she returned home, she was able to sleep by herself because she had been prepared by the weeks of separation during the final weeks of his life. People from everywhere came to pay their respects to a man who never really felt good enough. Our financial needs were met despite the numerous overnight trips, and so on. I regret that I did not seek God's hand at that time rather than running from it.

The irony of this story is that my healing and restoration have come to me through another death. The death of our Savior on a cross so many years ago and the death of self has brought me so much life! Our God is sovereign and true, and faithful and just. And He has not asked me to walk through one thing that He has not already walked through! How awesome is He!

Hebrews 4:15, "For we do not have a high priest who is unable to sympathize with our weaknesses, but we have one who has been tempted in every way, just as we are--yet was without sin."