Planning Funerals that Won’t Happen Today
LYSA TERKEURST
Listen to this devotion
“My
frame was not hidden from you when I was made in the secret place, when
I was woven together in the depths of the earth. Your eyes saw my
unformed body; all the days ordained for me were written in your book
before one of them came to be.” Psalm 139:15-16 (NIV)
Several years ago, my then-teenage son came to me and asked if he could take his brother and sisters to go get ice cream. How fun! How thoughtful! "Sure," I said, "Let me grab my keys and we'll go."
"No, Mom — we sort of want to go just us kids," he quickly replied.
"Oh,"
and that's about all I could get my mouth to say as my brain started
racing and reeling. In my mind, pictures started flashing of a terrible
accident, a phone call from the police, planning a funeral and then
thinking back to this moment when I could have said No.
And it was that strange sense that everything depended on me and my decisions that made me want to say: No. Absolutely not. You will stay home today. You will all stay home forever. I have to keep you safe.
Most
of us moms live with this gnawing, aching, terrifying fear that
something will happen to one of our children. We carry the pressure that
ultimately everything rises and falls on whether or not we can control
things. And mentally, too often we plan funerals that won't happen
today.
We do it because we know the realities of living
in a broken world where car accidents happen. Tragedy strikes old and
young alike. We have no guarantees for tomorrow. And that's really hard
on a mama's heart. When I was a teenager, I lost my baby sister in a
tragic way — so I know devastating realities can happen.
If
you’ve lost someone you love, I wish I could reach through this screen,
squeeze your hand and whisper, “I’m so sorry. I understand. It’s such a
deep, deep pain.” And a pain that we fear happening again.
That’s
where I was as I stood at the front window of my house fretting and
watching as the entire contents of my mama heart piled into one car.
And I realized I had a choice.
I
could run myself ragged creating a false sense of control that can’t
really protect them. Or, I could ask God to help me make wise decisions
and choose to park my mind on the truth, which is:
God has assigned each of my kids a certain number of days.
My choices can add to the quality of
their life, but not the quantity. They could be at home tucked
underneath my wings, and if it's their day to go be with Jesus, they
will go.
Our key verse confirms this: "My frame was
not hidden from you when I was made in the secret place, when I was
woven together in the depths of the earth. Your eyes saw my unformed
body; all the days ordained for me were written in your book before one
of them came to be" (Psalm 139:15-16).
Jesus conquered death so we don’t have to be afraid of it any longer.
Of
course, the death of anyone I love would make me devastatingly sad,
heartbroken and absolutely dazed with grief. But I don't have to be held
captive by the fear of death.
"Since the children
have flesh and blood, he [Jesus] too shared in their humanity so that by
his death he might break the power of him who holds the power of death —
that is, the devil — and free those who all their lives were held in
slavery by their fear of death" (Hebrews 2:14-15, NIV).
Death is only a temporary separation. We will be reunited again.
In 2 Samuel 12, when David's infant child died, he confidently said, "I shall go to him, but he shall not return to me" (v.
23b KJV). David knew he would see his child again — not just a faceless
soul without an identity, but this child for whom he was longing. He
would know him, hold him and kiss him. The separation death caused would
be over.
I know these are heavy things to process on a
Thursday morning. And I certainly don’t claim that these truths will
help you never, ever fear again. But I do hope these truths will settle
your heart into a better place. A place where your heart is consumed
with truth instead of fear.
Dear Lord, the fear of
something happening to one of my children is so raw. But if I focus on
this fear, it will consume me. Instead, help me focus on You, so I'll
only be consumed with Your truth, Your love, Your insights and Your
power. In Jesus’ Name, Amen.