Whipping myself back into shape as a
normal, functioning person has been a battle ever since the grief of losing my
beloved Daddy invaded my life. Many friends have tried to understand what I’m
feeling. And I am most grateful for those who try. It’s hurtful, after all,
that some others have persisted in staying far away, as if hiding out so that
our grief doesn’t somehow rub off to spoil their happy, healthy lives. As if
grief were a plague.
I must admit, though, some days it
feels so much like a blight. It’s about as welcome as an infestation of
carpenter ants on redwood patio furniture.
This morning I was in prayer,
expressing these deep emotions to my Father in Heaven, and a Scripture played
across my mind, as if Christ Himself were reading it to me. You see, I’ve been working
hard at Christmas curriculum for one of my publisher clients, so I’m in the
mode of remembering the Messianic prophecies. Perhaps that’s one reason He
chose to meet me in my grief today using the powerful images from Isaiah 53. I’m
going to do my best to express them to you as they came alive in my heart. They’re
not directly quoted, but nearly so. Here goes:
You
say you are alone in your grief? That no one understands? That few walk with
you in a meaningful way through it? Consider this … Your Savior is … “a man of
sorrows, fully acquainted with grief.”
You
feel as if those to whom you might have turned in your sorrow have given you
their backs? Your Savior was “despised and rejected by men … as one
from whom men hide their faces.”
You
say the weight of grief is crushing you and grinding you into dust? Your Savior
“has borne your grief and carried your
sorrow.”
You
say you are misunderstood? Your Savior became sin for you, so you might become
God’s righteousness in Him, and yet those He came to save “esteemed him
stricken, smitten by God, and afflicted.”
You
say there is no relief, no healing for your bleeding soul? Your Savior was “wounded
for your transgressions, crushed for your iniquities, took upon Himself the
punishment that brought you peace, and by His stripes you are healed.”
Now, I’m not saying that this fresh
encounter with the reality of Christ’s coming alongside and bearing the burden
of my grief is a quick, one-time fix-all that will snap-pop change me back into
giggly Julie. But I’ve heard His voice in my heart of hearts, and I somehow know
anew that it’s already been handled in the annals of eternity.
One day I’ll see with my eyes and know
without having to exercise faith. For now, I take by faith what I know is
already true in the heavenly realms: I have a loving Savior who did for me once
and for all what I most needed Him to do. He dealt with my grief. He carried my
burden. He handled my greatest problem of all—my blight of sin that made me
subject to His Father’s wrath. And, right now, with His Spirit in me, walking
beside me through this grief, He fully relates to my sorrow. That, alone, gives
me strength to keep pushing through these days of sad rememberings.
Blessings and prayers,
Julie
© 2013, Julie-Allyson Ieron. All rights reserved. For reprint permission, email: orders@joymediaservices.com
