I am so excited to announce my wife’s new website! God has given her such a gift and calling and this will be another avenue for her to vocalize the things that are brewing inside her. I am thrilled to see and learn from her posts. Check it out!
In this whole process of responding to Lenya’s departure to heaven there has been one question I haven’t asked. That question is, “why?” I have never found my heart bubbling up with that. Even in my darkest moments of unfiltered pain and confusion: “Why did this happen?” or “Why did God let my daughter die?” wasn’t what gushed out. To be honest my lack of thirst for those answers has shocked me a little bit.
I am not saying I have faith made out of steel. I don’t. There have been times of deep, deep doubt. Moments where I have come close to despair. There have been anxiety attacks that verged on total meltdown.
The closest thing I can compare these moments to is having one of your kids get separated from you in the grocery store and that sick feeling of panic when you are running up the aisles looking for them. Only there is no resolution. It doesn’t end, on this side of eternity, you have to learn to live with it. Once I was on an airplane and felt myself slipping. I got so stressed that I thought to myself, “if you don’t get this under control you are going to get arrested trying to open the door or something.” I had to breathe slowly with my head down to stop myself from hyperventilating.
Even in these times of intense doubt I haven’t been plagued by “why?” though. It’s not because I already know the answer. I have no clue. Beyond generally, that all death is the result of sin, I don’t know why my daughter’s life on earth was cut short. Today is my birthday and I don’t know why I won’t get to spend it with her. I believe God could have overridden and kept her here. He wasn’t surprised by any of this. I also believe He could have answered our prayers and brought her back even after she left this world. He’s done it before.
One day I will know even as I am known, but not yet. Right now I look at all this through a dark glass. Not knowing doesn’t change anything for me though. I trust Him. I trust His plan. He knows what He is doing. He does all things well. I don’t have to know all the answers because I know Him. So my heart’s cry isn’t, “give me facts,” but “give me faith,” because even if I did have the information there isn’t much I could do with it. Even the tiniest measure of faith, on the other hand, can move mountains.
In the movie The Avengers there is a scene where Tony Stark and Bruce Banner are having a conversation. Bruce feels as though being the Hulk is nothing but a curse, a nightmare. He feels exposed, like a nerve, and sees no good in it. Tony, on the other hand, views being Iron Man as a responsibility.
He puts it this way, “You know, I’ve got a cluster of shrapnel, trying every second to crawl its way into my heart. [he points to his chest] This stops it. This little circle of light. It’s part of me now, not just armor. It’s a … terrible privilege.”
The point he is making is one that reverberates through the pages of scripture. Things that come close to crushing you completely can become an integral part of your calling. God has a way of weaving together even the most destructive things we go through to bring about His eternal plans and save the lives of many. He never wastes a trial. He has a plan for your pain.
I think of this scene often. I’m no Iron Man, but the pain of having my little Lenya go to Heaven so young feels at times like a chunk of metal seeking to tear my heart apart. If I had been given a choice between the two I would choose the shrapnel. In a heartbeat. Though it has been over four months now, the sorrow is still very severe. It can vary from a blinding and jolting intensity to a dull, cold, throbbing, like an ache deep in your bones.
I have found that there is nothing you can do with this pain except live with it and keep moving forward. I trust God and pray and read scripture every day. It still hurts. I feel myself getting stronger, but the pain never goes away.
The one thing that brings the most relief, that I look forward to more than anything, is church. Specifically singing. Like Tony Stark’s glowing arc-reactor, I find that when I am surrounded by a throng of God’s people and we are all lifting high the name of Jesus in a worship experience, the pressure inside my chest is alleviated and the sharp barb gets temporarily pulled from my heart.
These are also the moments when I feel nearest to her. Much more so than when I stand at her grave. That plot of earth merely houses her tent, she is in the presence of the Lord. With my eyes closed and my hands raised and the music swirling around me, there are glimpses of God’s glory that transcend all else. In those fleeting moments I feel locked in to the frequency of Heaven and everything else just fades to gray.
2 Corinthians 4:6 “For it is the God who commanded light to shine out of darkness, who has shone in our hearts to give the light of the knowledge of the glory of God in the face of Jesus Christ.”
We are so excited to have The Almost coming with us this June as we travel from Seattle to Southern California, painting the west coast red–red with the blood of Christ! We have partnered with these guys a ton in the past and it is always a honor to work with a group that is not only super talented but resonates with the vision of the event.
The Almost’s new record, Fear Inside Our Bones, is coming out this summer but you can listen to one track right now here.
For all the details on the O2 Experience and info on how your church can get involved click here.
