Although my son Jacob’s death certificate says that he died on the 26th I actually know that he died late evening on the 25th. Today is Good Friday. Two years ago today was the last day of life for my son. It has been a strange, mixed up and emotional day for me today. As a Christian I remember the death of the only Son of God and as a father I remember the death of my firstborn son. Today is a day that is good and today is also a day that I grieve. I feel a bit like Charlie Brown I suppose, I would say that today is filled with good grief.
The great exchange
On the first Good Friday the disciples certainly were put to grief. The predetermined plan of God was set in motion and all that was written of the suffering of Messiah was about to come to pass. Jesus said to them, “Truly, truly I say to you, you will weep and lament, but the world will rejoice. You will be sorrowful, but your sorrow will turn into joy.” (John 16:20)
The crucifixion and death of Jesus bring weeping, lamenting and great sorrow for a short time. Sunday would arrive, the women would look into the tomb and the angels who were there would say, “He is not here, for he is risen, as he said. Come see where he lay.” (Matthew 28:6) Jesus appeared to them alive and joy was their response just as he said. They rejoice that Jesus was alive and the crucifixion suddenly has become their greatest joy.
Jesus put death to death. But what about us? Did he make a way for us to beat death also? He promised them, “Because I live, you also will live.” (John 14:19) How is this possible? It was made possible by his sacrifice and declared in his final words on the cross, “It is finished!” What is finished? “For our sake he made him to be sin, so that in him we might become the righteousness of God.” (2 Corinthians 5:21) Jesus willingly took all my sin so that I could receive his perfect righteousness. This is the great exchange. The greatest grief became the greatest joy of the disciples and it is my greatest joy as well. I glory in the cross.
The great hope
Grief for a Christian is different than that of unbelievers. I have the great hope of seeing my son once again because Christ made it possible for me by dying, being buried and rising from the dead. Christ is coming again for his saints, this is the great Christian hope.
“But we do not want you to be uninformed brothers, about those who are asleep, that you may not grieve as others who have no hope. For since we believe that Jesus died and rose again, even so, through Jesus, will bring with him those who have fallen asleep.” (1 Thessalonians 4:13-14)
I struggled for nearly a year with the terrible thought that my son was not in heaven. This is a terrible kind of hopeless grief to live in daily. I was not at rest, I was without peace and I think that this pain that I was enduring was actually harder on me than the actual death itself. I really got a sense of an unbelievers grief and their hopelessness in that time. Then one day, I sat at my desk at work and just wept over this and God did a work in my heart. I wrote this poem that morning, it is a a poem I believe God wrote on my heart.
Waiting for the rain
You our rosebud in a garden of thorns; you grew up in sunshine waiting for rain. Waiting for rain your bud would push out; blessings from heaven would surely bloom out.
Beauty in the blossom was our hope in the drought, waiting for rain it’s sure to come out. The thorns ever present and your bud bulging to bloom; waiting for rain it is sure to come soon.
The sun is now covered and the clouds have come in; waiting for the rain and for the blossom within. The rain came quickly; a storm in the night. It cut down our rose bud before the dawns light.
Cut down by the storm, there our bud lays; awaiting the rain has cut short his days. Our rosebud is broken; we placed him in a vase. Pricked by the thorn we lean on God’s grace.
Our bud has now blossomed though not like we planned; his bloom has now opened in a heavenly land. I know you have bloomed in a place that is bright; for you are with Jesus where never it’s night.
Waiting for rain, I see your sweet face, our boy, our son, our child in the vase. Here we sorrow awaiting the rain to cut us soon down and free us from pain.
We love you son, we’re doing OK; were waiting for rain to unite us some day. Someday we will bloom, be joyful, and say, “It’s good to see you, what a beautiful bouquet.”
Have a joyous Easter