God in the Seasons of Life
Mourning my mom, celebrating my daughter, and pondering God's faithfulness
This has been quite the year for our family. We moved to Fort Worth. I was in a serious car accident. Our institution has endured some significant turmoil and transitions. And, worse of all, my mother passed away.
There have been some great blessings to go along with the pain. My oldest daughter graduated high school. My new book, Agents of Grace released. I’ve had the opportunity to do more speaking and writing. We like Fort Worth. Our kids have adjusted well. I enjoy teaching and love my faculty colleagues.
I’m reminded of the verse in 1 Corinthians. “For a great door, and effectual, has opened unto me, and there are many adversaries.” I like this KJV rendering. Life in this season is some mountains, some valleys. The valleys, in this season, seem deeper than the mountains are high, yet I am seeing God’s faithfulness.
Grief is peculiar. At times you think you are through something and then, like a wave, it consumes you. A memory. A hymn lyric. A funny thought you were about to text that you can’t anymore. Losing a parent is a hard thing. I had just started recognizing how much I need my parents, as an adult, as a parent myself. With Mom, we grieved twice. First when we knew she had dementia. Second, when she actually slipped from the earth and into heaven.
I’m thankful I was able to quickly fly back to Chicago and see her in her final days. We surrounded her, sang hymns to her, and read Scripture. I leaned over and told her how much I loved her and she, feebly, whispered back that she loved me.
Christian grief is mixed. I believe, more than ever, that I will see my mom again. I believe Jesus’s resurrection means one day she will have a body that will no longer fail her. And yet I also, like Jesus in John 11, hate death. I hate what will be missing.
I had the opportunity to eulogize her at a service this past Sunday. It was a precious time, with family and friends, at the church where I grew up, where mom made sure I attended three times every week.
This season was also the celebration of my daughter, who graduated high school. This, another marker of the passing of time. It’s emotional to slowly release a child from your grasp into adulthood. Yet if we trust the Lord, we have to trust that He cares infinitely more about our children than we do.
All of this—losing a parent, and graduating a child—makes me more aware of my vulnerabilities. Less than I think is in my control. Prayer becomes less a discipline and more a lifeline. I’m also driven to gratitude. In spite of the hardships of this year, I still am blessed beyond what I deserve. I’ve not endured a fraction of the suffering many others have endured. And, above all, God is good, Christ is risen, and the Spirit is alive.
I think of this passage from 1 Corinthians 4:
Now we have this treasure in clay jars, so that this extraordinary power may be from God and not from us. We are afflicted in every way but not crushed; we are perplexed but not in despair; we are persecuted but not abandoned; we are struck down but not destroyed. We always carry the death of Jesus in our body, so that the life of Jesus may also be displayed in our body. For we who live are always being given over to death for Jesus’s sake, so that Jesus’s life may also be displayed in our mortal flesh. So then, death is at work in us, but life in you. And since we have the same spirit of faith in keeping with what is written, I believed, therefore I spoke, we also believe, and therefore speak. For we know that the one who raised the Lord Jesus will also raise us with Jesus and present us with you. Indeed, everything is for your benefit so that, as grace extends through more and more people, it may cause thanksgiving to increase to the glory of God.
Therefore we do not give up. Even though our outer person is being destroyed, our inner person is being renewed day by day. For our momentary light affliction is producing for us an absolutely incomparable eternal weight of glory. So we do not focus on what is seen, but on what is unseen. For what is seen is temporary, but what is unseen is eternal.