I imagine my sweet 12-year-old brother with his eyes all sparkling as we would talk about God. His eyes only went gaga about three things: hunting, fishing, and God. Every night I remember, we would talk into the late hours -- sometimes about Narnia, sometimes about anger, about the trials of teenage lives, crushes old and new, struggling with sin, ice fishing, etc. But whatever we started out talking about, it always wound up getting related to God.
Then we would really talk! I don't even remember much about what aspects of God we talked about . . . . God's Sovereignty? Grace? Mercy? His Word? His working in our lives and the lives of those we love? I'm not sure. I just remember the sparkle in his eye and excited, trembling wonder in his voice as we talked about the Bible. Well how could this be? So that was God's plan!? That's awesome! But when does this happen? Was it a foreshadow or a fulfillment? But what about -- what about, what about, what about?
Of course, now he wouldn't be twelve anymore, but nearly fifteen. I know fifteen year old boys -- they are chasing the world as hard as they can, not concerned about God, sitting with glazed eyes when faced with God's Word, but shivering in delight when you mention paint balls, guns, biking, working out, sports, canoeing, fishing, hunting, and, well, everything the world has to offer. Well, what would Trent have been like?
It's hard to explain what losing a brother is like. Trent was no ordinary kid, God saved him! I am extremely glad that he is in Heaven, without a possibility of ever sinning again. Yet at the same time, we are here -- I am here. I still grieve. I grieve for myself -- I am here, not in Heaven! I miss my brother who loves Jesus. I miss the gentleman he is. Emotions have been kind of scattered everywhere lately. The poor kid who opened the door for my friend and I nearly had a crying girl on his hands.
Some of my friends went on a skiing trip this year again. Some of them had gone on the one that Trent never came back from. I have stared at them many a time wondering, "How can you not remember? How can you not think about God and eternity and reality?" I find that clearly shown spiritual blindness reminds me of how I was before I came to God: blind and unconscious to God. Jesus turns my mind from what is not at the moment given to them, and what has been given to me: salvation from the just wrath of the Holy God.
I cannot say that grief has always been easy because of God. Grief is not easy, even when both people involved are saved by God. But I can truthfully acknowledge that through every step of the way, Jesus has walked right beside me and never left me, as he promised (Hebrews 13:5). It is in the worst moments when I am hiding away from the world with tears streaming down my cheeks that I can imagine best the scarred hands of my Savior who carries me every step of the way he has chosen for me.
One of my greatest comforts through this process of missing Trent is God's Word. This one verse has helped me through many trials: Isaiah 63:9, "In all their distress he (God) too was distressed and the angel of his presence saved them. In his love and mercy, he redeemed them. He lifted them up and carried them all the days of old."
The more broken you are, the higher you lift your hands in desperation for a Healer.
Though family and friends can help, they are never always there when and how you need them to be. Finding myself crying alone is not uncommon. Envying the comfort of friends God has blessed others with through grief, I asked him one day, "God, why did you give her people to comfort her, but I am all alone?" I felt a very clear answer by remembering how much more God has allowed me to know him, trust him, and love him because of this. He is still teaching me to depend on him only, and as a first resort, not the last. God reminds me that he is the Potter, I am the clay. I am no one to speak back to Him, nor to say, "What have you done!?" (Romans).
Yes, God has given me friends who help me. But he often gives me an even greater gift: suffering alone. Why? Because then it is Jesus who is my all in all, not a part of the balm. Grief is hard, but God is good -- and He continues to remind me of pressing and striving toward the goal: Heaven, eternal bliss where I will walk with Jesus and talk with him face to face!
