"Come forth"

We had a rough week last week. I can't share the details—it's not my story to tell—but it involved the death of someone we knew. I've been a bit lost for words, but I did know that, in the midst of my current busy-ness I needed to find time and space to think about this loss and that writing is one way that I do that. So I took some time on Monday to go to a park and think about the week that's past (when the weather was warm and the rest of my family were home on a long weekend). But the writing I did then is not something I can share here.

Monday was an unusually spring-like day, even
if many of the trees are still leafless.

But I also remembered that I'd decided to work my way through a book called Come Closer by writing about one verse a month (corresponding to one chapter in the book). And it turns out that the next chapter in that book is about death. About the story of Lazarus' resurrection:

Jesus said, "Lazarus, come forth" (John 11:43.)

Oh, don't we all wish that the Lord would say that for loved ones we've lost? We groan in this death and pain-marred world.

We don't want it in our lives, we try to deny that it happens. But can we allow it to turn our eyes to the truth? That we were made for Eden, a perfect world, with no sin or death. That our longings for an unmarred world are really longing for that, and for life everlasting in heaven. Read God's words:

And I heard a loud voice from the throne saying, “Behold, the dwelling place of God is with man. He will dwell with them, and they will be his people, and God himself will be with them as their God. He will wipe away every tear from their eyes, and death shall be no more, neither shall there be mourning, nor crying, nor pain anymore, for the former things have passed away.”
And he who was seated on the throne said, “Behold, I am making all things new. (Revelations 21:3–5 ESV)

Right now we don't know the answer to the "Whys?" And that's not comfortable. But for those of us who follow the God of the Bible, we do know that there is a future in which all of this pain will be gone. And for those who have gone before us, that their pain is now all in the past. That is something to hold on to, even as we mourn their loss to us.

I'm also left with the question, like last time I wrote on this "Come" series—how can I live abundant life now, even as I get weighed down by the griefs of this life? I think one key is found in one of my favourite passages. Looking to Jesus—

Therefore, since we are surrounded by so great a cloud of witnesses, let us also lay aside every weight, and sin which clings so closely, and let us run with endurance the race that is set before us, looking to Jesus, the founder and perfecter of our faith, who for the joy that was set before him endured the cross, despising the shame, and is seated at the right hand of the throne of God. Consider him who endured from sinners such hostility against himself, so that
you may not grow weary or fainthearted. (Hebrews 12:1–3 ESV)

Music played a part in my reflections at the park on Monday. Here's one song I missed, though: