“But now I go my way to him that sent me; and none of you asketh me, Whither goest thou? But because I have said these things unto you, sorrow hath filled your heart. Nevertheless I tell you the truth; It is expedient for you that I go away; for if I go not away, the Comforter will not come unto you; but if I depart, I will send him unto you. And when he is come, he will reprove the world of sin, and of righteousness, and of judgment:”
This afternoon, a group of my closest friends and I wandered through a cemetery. The bright sun shone brilliantly from the solid blue sky, and fragrant breezes tousled our hair. I carefully picked my way among decrepit tombstones, many of which had fallen on their faces in negligent disrepair. Searching mostly for dates (I like finding the tombstone that has been in the cemetery the longest), I often paused to ponder the unwritten tales hinted by the weathered tombstones.
I came across a headstone that summarized the lives of a family from the 1800s: a father died at the age of 29 and his daughter died two years later, at the age of five, but the wife lived until she was 48. What did the mother do for the rest of her life, after her husband and her only child passed on?
Rachael found another modest marker and mused, “She was only 21 when she died.” I noticed the inscription above the dates and exclaimed in surprise, “‘Wife of Rob’t. ______!’ She was married already!” Did the people who knew her grieve when she died? Was she kind, tender, and sweet, or pinched, bitter, and grouchy?
So many lives, so many memories; so much forgotten, so much unknown. Probably death caught by surprise most of the people represented in that graveyard. Probably its cold silence surprised most of the families whom the death affected.
I cannot imagine the pain suffered by the lonely mother who lost her husband and her child. What if the woman saw their deaths coming? What if she knew, as the disciples did, that her loved ones were about to leave her?
If I knew that someone I treasured was about to cross the bridge into eternity, and I would never see him again, ever, throughout the entire span of my life, sorrow would definitely fill my heart. In fact, sorrow might overwhelm me. “Where there’s life, there’s hope,” but where hope abandons, ominous gray clouds take up residence.
What would it have been like for the disciples to hear those words from the lips of their Master, their Teacher: “I’m going away”? Sorrow would have overcome them, shock would have squeezed their hearts with cold, clammy disbelief. How could the One whom they loved leave them? How could He return to the One Who sent Him? The disciples had left their families and their jobs to follow Christ. They had uprooted their lives. Nothing was the same. Their entire way of life was different. So, if Christ was leaving, what were they to do? Where were they to go? The disciples were lost without their leader.
If I discovered that my anchor, the one whom my life revolved around, was leaving me, I would despair. What is hope, if you are absent? What is life, without you? The shock of his announcement would freeze my brain. Could I even process his next statement? “I tell you the truth; it is expedient for you that I go away.” No, Lord! How could it be good for me, if you are gone?
When grief dissolves me, I cannot see good. I want time to stop ticking. I want life to cease. Contemplation within cemeteries restores perspective. Life goes on. People are born. They live, some for a day, some for almost one hundred years. Then, they die. And God remains, unchanging. He orchestrates all of life. He raises one person and brings low another. But through it all, He has a plan. He is in control of everything that happens, and He brings to pass what is ultimately best, for His glory, and for our good. “For I am persuaded, that neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor principalities, nor powers, nor things present, nor things to come, nor height, nor depth, nor any other creature, shall be able to separate us from the love of God, which is in Christ Jesus our Lord”(Romans 8:38–39).
Teresa Tures
4/3/2005
John 16:5–8
“But now I go my way to him that sent me; and none of you asketh me, Whither goest thou? But because I have said these things unto you, sorrow hath filled your heart. Nevertheless I tell you the truth; It is expedient for you that I go away; for if I go not away, the Comforter will not come unto you; but if I depart, I will send him unto you. And when he is come, he will reprove the world of sin, and of righteousness, and of judgment:”
This afternoon, a group of my closest friends and I wandered through a cemetery. The bright sun shone brilliantly from the solid blue sky, and fragrant breezes tousled our hair. I carefully picked my way among decrepit tombstones, many of which had fallen on their faces in negligent disrepair. Searching mostly for dates (I like finding the tombstone that has been in the cemetery the longest), I often paused to ponder the unwritten tales hinted by the weathered tombstones.
I came across a headstone that summarized the lives of a family from the 1800s: a father died at the age of 29 and his daughter died two years later, at the age of five, but the wife lived until she was 48. What did the mother do for the rest of her life, after her husband and her only child passed on?
Rachael found another modest marker and mused, “She was only 21 when she died.” I noticed the inscription above the dates and exclaimed in surprise, “‘Wife of Rob’t. ______!’ She was married already!” Did the people who knew her grieve when she died? Was she kind, tender, and sweet, or pinched, bitter, and grouchy?
So many lives, so many memories; so much forgotten, so much unknown. Probably death caught by surprise most of the people represented in that graveyard. Probably its cold silence surprised most of the families whom the death affected.
I cannot imagine the pain suffered by the lonely mother who lost her husband and her child. What if the woman saw their deaths coming? What if she knew, as the disciples did, that her loved ones were about to leave her?
If I knew that someone I treasured was about to cross the bridge into eternity, and I would never see him again, ever, throughout the entire span of my life, sorrow would definitely fill my heart. In fact, sorrow might overwhelm me. “Where there’s life, there’s hope,” but where hope abandons, ominous gray clouds take up residence.
What would it have been like for the disciples to hear those words from the lips of their Master, their Teacher: “I’m going away”? Sorrow would have overcome them, shock would have squeezed their hearts with cold, clammy disbelief. How could the One whom they loved leave them? How could He return to the One Who sent Him? The disciples had left their families and their jobs to follow Christ. They had uprooted their lives. Nothing was the same. Their entire way of life was different. So, if Christ was leaving, what were they to do? Where were they to go? The disciples were lost without their leader.
If I discovered that my anchor, the one whom my life revolved around, was leaving me, I would despair. What is hope, if you are absent? What is life, without you? The shock of his announcement would freeze my brain. Could I even process his next statement? “I tell you the truth; it is expedient for you that I go away.” No, Lord! How could it be good for me, if you are gone?
When grief dissolves me, I cannot see good. I want time to stop ticking. I want life to cease. Contemplation within cemeteries restores perspective. Life goes on. People are born. They live, some for a day, some for almost one hundred years. Then, they die. And God remains, unchanging. He orchestrates all of life. He raises one person and brings low another. But through it all, He has a plan. He is in control of everything that happens, and He brings to pass what is ultimately best, for His glory, and for our good. “For I am persuaded, that neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor principalities, nor powers, nor things present, nor things to come, nor height, nor depth, nor any other creature, shall be able to separate us from the love of God, which is in Christ Jesus our Lord” (Romans 8:38–39).