The past few weeks in Sunday School we've been studying John 11 about the Lord raising Lazarus from the dead. We've tried to look past the words printed on the page and see deep into the hearts of Mary, Martha, Jesus, and His disciples. It's easy for us to see the words as sterile, I think, to forget that Mary and Martha were broken hearted and swallowed up by grief and disappointment when Jesus walked into Bethany.
Yesterday I viewed a U-Tube video of little children who have died of cancer in recent years. The video showed their faces - beautiful and cherub like, then swollen or bruised and scarred, or emaciated and hollow, then their graves. Oh, God, I know their parents are still suffering such a tremendous loss. How do they pick up the pieces of their lives and go on?
This past weekend as we traveled to and from FL, I noticed many small, white crosses along the highway. Markers families have posted as memorials to those who have died in accidents. And memorials to the inexpressible grief of those families.
Lord, today I'm praying for those moms and dads, those grandparents, those siblings and cousins and best friends who, like Mary and Martha, are consumed by their grief and disappointment. I don't know all of their names. But You do. I ask You, Lord, to meet them in their grief. I ask You to go to them and show them Your heart that joins in their sorrow and weeps with them and for them. I ask You to walk into their lives right in the middle of their pain so that they will rush into Your arms for comfort.
Separation. I know - whatever form it takes it tears your hearts into pieces. I know. I built you for relationships. I built you to love each other, to depend upon each other, and to invest in each other. Separation is agony for you. But I am here. I am near. I have comfort enough for all of you who mourn. Come to Me. Please come to Me.