Seeing God's Faithfulness in the Shadow of GriefНамуна

I paced the hall outside the ER. “Holy Spirit,” I prayed, “breathe life into her lungs.” 

An attending physician came out into the hallway. He offered his words kindly and gently: “We had a pulse for a while, but it’s gone. You might want to come say goodbye.”

What I felt at that moment was like my mind and body had been taken over by God. I sensed His peace and comfort in a way I can’t explain. He was with me.

Wynter was lying on the emergency room table. She looked like she was taking a nap and had forgotten to wrap her hair. I pressed my lips and cheek against her forehead. Through heartache and trembling, I whispered as I caressed her hair: “It’s okay, babe. I’ll take care of the girls. You don’t have to worry. I love you with all that I am, and you are the best thing that ever happened to me.”

I shared a moment of tenderest intimacy with my Wynter, wishing I could find better words to express all that was in my heart. I thought of how I would sometimes sing to her during difficult moments—when she was giving birth, when we were trying to come together after a little squabble, or when she just needed some reassurance. So, I sang to her.

The song, “Great Are You, Lord,” expresses the reality that it is God who puts breath into our lungs. We use it and eventually we give it right back to Him. This was the cry of my heart.

It was an otherworldly moment when here and forever came together. I knew Wynter was experiencing the reality of what I was singing. The deepest peace filled my soul. I could accept the sorrow because I trusted He was faithful. I understood for the first time why the apostle Paul had told the Ephesians to keep on “speaking to one another with psalms, hymns, and songs from the Spirit. Sing and make music from your heart to the Lord” (Ephesians 5:19).

Months later, when I told a friend about my experience, he reminded me of these words from C.S. Lewis: “Holy places are dark places. It is life and strength, not knowledge and words, that we get in them. Holy wisdom is not clear and thin like water, but thick and dark like blood.”

Death and loss have a way of forcing you to make a decision between worry or worship. Regardless of how you feel, you get to choose your heart’s posture. Here is my recommendation wherever you find yourself:

Worship the Lord with gladness;
come before him with joyful songs. (Psalm 100:2)

Choosing to worship with gladness and joy in difficulty will reorient your heart to a reality much greater than you may feel presently. And it will turn you towards a beautiful truth as you hope in Jesus.