Grief

Timing

by Edy T Johnson 
09/22/15
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Timing

No wonder it was storming the night he died. No wonder it rained from dark skies for two solid days afterward. Even the heavens joined in our mourning.

After my brother's unbelievably unexpected and sudden death (dissecting aortic aneurysm), our niece Rayme's response, posted on Facebook, moved me beyond the tears to a beautiful insight. She wrote: "…♡ I went to bed a few hours ago with a simple verse on my mind: "Jesus wept."  Even though Jesus knew he would shortly thereafter be raising his friend from the dead, he still took that moment - and mourned the loss of someone dear. I feel connected to that. I know I will see Lanky again when I, too, journey Home - but for now - just for what is ultimately a mere moment in time - I weep. ♡ --for our loss --for my loss --for Heaven's glorious addition. ♡ I love you. I miss you. See you soon. ♡ "

Now, Jesus didn't need to weep for Lazarus, since He knew what was just ahead. But, He was moved with compassion for those in mourning, and wept with and for them in their grief. What a comfort to know!

As I wrote visitation and funeral information onto a calendar, I was startled to notice the "visitation" would be held on Yom Kippur ("Day of Atonement").  Searching further, I noticed his death occurred on the day after Rosh Hashanah ("Head of the Year" the Feast of Trumpets), second day of the Jewish New Year, in the ten days of awe between those two events on the Jewish calendar.

My husband and I, just the week before Rosh Hashanah, had stumbled upon a Messianic congregation in St. Paul. It was perfect timing for us to attend this festival.  I was overjoyed, remembering the only other time I'd been part of this. My Jewish friend in Vietnam had invited me to a Rosh Hashanah service at the post chapel.  At that time, I remember feeling as if the gates of Heaven had opened. I was overwhelmed observing the gentle respect everyone in attendance demonstrated when the Torah scrolls (the WORD) were brought forth to carry around the sanctuary. I felt as if I had plunged deep into the roots of my faith in Jesus. It was an unforgettable experience.

So, on the eve of and again on the day of only my second Rosh Hashanah experience, both beautiful sunny autumn days, we encountered the festivities, the songs, the typical chain dancing around the aisles, and a powerful message connecting the prophetic shadows in the ancient Scripture pointing to the entrance of Yeshua the Messiah, the Word made flesh, onto the world's stage.

In the glow of that joyful celebration, never would I have imagined the grief the next day would bring.

But the timing stuns me. Here we are in mourning during the ten days of awe, leading to our visitation time during the last hours of the Day of Atonement. My brother always did have a big dramatic streak. He would have preferred leaving this world with a bang, rather than a long whimper. And the Lord knew the desires of his heart. When the surgeon told him there was a 25 percent chance he wouldn't survive the surgery, Lanky replied, "Okay, if I wake up, I'm here; if I don't, I'm with Jesus." He was incredibly peaceful, even teasing his daughter while waiting to be taken to surgery...and his death.

I'm probably jumping the gun, but knowing "the dead in Christ shall rise first," could the Lord have a big surprise planned on His calendar for the whole world at this special time?  It makes beautiful sense to me.

God's timing could include that the risen Lanky, my flamboyant brother, could actually show up at his own funeral, a new creation—at last the "firstborn" place he so desired to be for his original earthly family--for all eternity! 

If not now, surely one day we'll all see it and lift our voices high with shouts of incredibly joyful praise.

---Edy T Johnson---

"…Weeping may tarry for the night, but joy comes with the morning." ---Psalm 30:5b

copyright 2015 Edy T Johnson