Grief is such a strange experience. It’s unpredictable. One minute it conjures up anger. The next thing you know you’re in the fetal position sucking your thumb in the corner. And then, you’re laughing so hard you need to change your pants. It’s a wave that drags you out and pulls you in. It’s a pain that often no words adequately convey. Grief is hard.
There’s no timeline for grief either. No formula to follow that ensures an efficient walk through the varied steps. And it’s often five steps forward and six steps back.
Today is one of those strange grief days for me. On March 9, 2001, my brother, Michael, died in a freak accident. He was 22 years old. That means that as of today (March 9, 2024), he’s been gone longer than he lived. To many, that would seem a bizarre thing to consider, think about, or ponder. But we’ve already established the fact that grief is weird and often makes no sense.
I was in the movie theater two nights ago watching episodes 7-8 of season four of The Chosen. (A few weeks ago I mentioned, “If you haven’t seen it yet, I’m not sure what you’re doing”.) There’s a scene that depicts Jesus and his disciples going to Bethany after the death of Lazarus. Lazarus and his sisters, Mary and Martha, were friends of Jesus and his mother. Some days prior, they sent word to Jesus that Lazarus was sick. But instead of going to see him, Jesus lingered. He arrived in Bethany and was told Lazarus had already been dead for days. (The series depicts the details of the story slightly differently than scripture.)
Now I’ve heard this account over and over. I’ve read it more times than I can remember. And of course, it’s a great sermon. But when I saw Mary and Martha on that big screen sobbing and pleading with Jesus, asking the hard questions, making accusations, my heart broke again into a million pieces. I was transported back to that day in 2001. It seemed like yesterday. So fresh. So raw. So incredibly awful.
I’m not sure how many times I yelled at God. I don’t remember the exact words. But I can assure you it was colorful. I had no idea why He allowed such a horrific situation to occur. Siblings were now without a brother. Parents were now without a child. Grandparents, aunts, uncles, cousins, nephews, and an endless list of friends. Everyone suffered a very unique loss in some way. His friend that found him that Saturday morning ~ life forever changed. His son that was born four months after he died ~ never knowing his dad. It was an excruciating time.
But then the scene changes. Jesus goes to the grave and raises Lazarus from the dead. And in that moment that should’ve brought rejoicing, the camera turned to Thomas. The writers took some artistic license developing the story of Thomas. He had recently suffered an intimate loss of his own. He had left his former life and everything in it to follow Jesus. But Jesus didn’t redeem Thomas’ loss as He had Mary and Martha’s. Thomas was still stuck in the pit of confusion, lack of understanding, anger, bitterness, and so much more. Instead of celebrating with the sisters and others over Lazarus, I found myself standing beside Thomas and wanting answers. It seems so unnecessary. Avoidable. Fixable. Mean. Wrong. And even though Thomas doesn’t understand, he remains with Jesus. He continues to follow Him. And if you know anything about Thomas, I’m pretty excited to see where they take his story.
So here I sit. This morning I had breakfast with one of my sweet, young sisters in Christ. After that I enjoyed a brief porch chat with another dear friend. God continues to give me these undeserved opportunities to speak to His faithfulness and unending love. I got a text from one of Michael’s friends at 12:22 am; she’s always the first one every year. Throughout the morning and now into the afternoon, the messages keep coming.
Like Thomas, I don’t understand. It hurts. Deeply. But like Thomas, I’ll keep following Jesus. I’ll keep seeking Him out and standing face-to-face to look in His eyes. Nothing else in this world wil ever fill that void. I’m also going to laugh as I watch old videos, hear his voice, and see his face. Grief is a strange thing.
I Thessalonians 4:13-18 ~ But we do not want you to be uninformed, brothers, about those who are asleep, that you may not grieve as others do who have no hope………….Therefore encourage one another with these words.