The Journey Begins

It has now been over a week since we first heard the terrible news of Jonathan's passing.  Most of the family has gone.  The frenzy to prepare for his funeral and the noise of a house crowded with people are behind us.  The "ceremony" of his passing is over.  What remains is stillness and quiet.

I cannot yet accept that my son is no longer here, though admittedly it seems less and less like a dream.  The beautiful flowers that crowd the kitchen, the copies of the program from the service resting on the kitchen table and the few pictures that have not yet been returned to their proper place all stand in sharp conflict with my unwillingness to accept this new reality.  Even as I type this note, the weight of his watch fastened to my wrist serves as a constant reminder that he is in fact no longer with us.

Today has been particularly difficult, although every day brings a new and unique flavor of heartache and despair.  I think that is so because each day so far has been its own milestone, and as each milestone passes the finality of our loss becomes more and more real.

For a week Jonathan has remained alive, if only in the hearts and thoughts of hundreds if not thousands of people -- his presence has surrounded us like a heavy mist.  But today most have gone back to their ordinary lives -- focused again on their own families, careers and daily tasks, and Jonathan's memory has, I fear, already begun to dissipate.  Even this blog, I am afraid, may be just part of a futile effort to keep him with us just a little bit longer.  Yet, in the midst of all of this there have been moments of incredible peace.

Last Wednesday night I went to church to drop in on the class that I normally facilitate each week.  I walked into the sanctuary to find this wonderful group of people, whom I have grown to love so much, praying and worshiping the Lord.  As I stood in the doorway just watching them that "peace of God that transcends all understanding" fell over me -- even if only for a brief time.  Philippians 4:7.  I could have stood in that doorway for hours, as the burden of that week was lifted completely off of my shoulders.

Then on Sunday, Pam made the decision to attend the 11:00 a.m. service.  We, I think naturally, had reservations about returning to church just a day after the funeral service.  Our plan was to get in and out as quickly as possible, as we were exhausted from a late Friday night and a very long Saturday.

At the end of the service Pastor Dan unexpectedly called us up for prayer.  Although I greatly appreciated the sentiment, I also feared my wife's reaction.  Pam neither needs nor wants to be the center of attention, and for the previous two days she had been just that.  She also loves to give, but to be honest has trouble receiving sometimes -- as I suppose many of us do.

But as our church family surrounded us, unencumbered by the formality of the previous two days, we felt both the peaceful presence of the Holy Spirit and the limitless love of our incredible Heartland family.  Just as the pain of losing a child is indescribable, so is the comfort that comes from the love of a body of believers who have taken to heart the calling of scripture to "rejoice with those who rejoice" and "mourn with those who mourn."  Romans 12:15.  These are hallmarks of those who have the true love of Christ in them.

Then, as people were coming by in the front of the sanctuary and just loving us, a beautiful young lady
came forward with the courage to tell me of a dream she had.  And this is what she said:

"I would like to share with you about a dream that I had on Thursday night. You and some other people from Heartland were in a little room, including my family. You were standing on a small stage and you were talking and preaching to us about your son and how you will get through this. Every one was crying and hugging and praying. Then I saw a spirit and I couldn't see the face but I knew it was your son -- he was standing behind you praising God. I could feel God's amazing presence too and he told me that every thing will be alright and that you guys will get through this."

Today, as I said, has been an incredibly difficult day. But tomorrow will be a new one. So, Pam, Christian, Dani and I will cling to the hope that is in Christ, we will draw on the power of the Holy Spirit, we will stand together, and we will gratefully accept the love of our friends and family. We will rejoice that our son is full of joy in the presence of God, and we ourselves, I am convinced, will not only survive this, but one day we will see "that our present sufferings are not worth comparing with the glory that will be revealed in us."

Romans 8:18.

Thank you again my friends for your prayers and your love.

John

⁹ Love must be sincere. Hate what is evil; cling to what is good. ¹⁰ Be devoted to one another in love. Honor one another above yourselves. ¹¹ Never be lacking in zeal, but keep your spiritual fervor, serving the Lord. ¹² Be joyful in hope, patient in affliction, faithful in prayer. ¹³ Share with the Lord’s people who are in need. Practice hospitality.
¹⁴ Bless those who persecute you; bless and do not curse. ¹⁵ Rejoice with those who rejoice; mourn with those who mourn.
                                                                          Romans 12:9-15