Often, when I’m working in my garden, a spiritual tie-in will occur to me. Such was the case last week.
The perennials are winding down for this year, looking rather bedraggled after enduring weeks of hot, dry weather. Soon, many of them will drop their leaves or die back completely to the ground. I’ll help others by removing this year’s growth so they can rest over the winter. But even as the plants are completing another cycle of flourishing, they’re preparing for the next.
Seeds
Seed heads have formed on numerous plants, including ornamental grasses, butterfly weed, coneflowers, and black-eyed Susans. Some of the seeds will land in a favorable place, germinate, and produce new plants, while others provide food for hungry birds. Still others can be shared with fellow gardeners.
As I survey the variety of seeds adorning the plants, harvest some to share and leave the rest to reproduce or feed the birds, I’m reminded of God’s promise after the flood, “While the earth remains, seedtime and harvest, cold and heat, summer and winter, day and night, shall not cease.” (Genesis 8:22)
I’m also challenged. How am I sharing the bounty of spiritual blessings and wisdom God has imparted to me? Am I planting seeds that will bear spiritual fruit even after I’m gone? Am I sharing bits of Biblical wisdom to nourish fellow believers?
Buds
And then there are buds that have already formed on spring-blooming plants, the promise of future flowers when the conditions are right. The buds remind me that we’ve been sealed with the Holy Spirit, the guarantee of our inheritance in Christ (Ephesians 1:13-14). Just as the buds are waiting to blossom, we too are awaiting our glorification, knowing that when Jesus appears, we shall be like Him, because we shall see Him as He is (1 John 3:2).
Bulbs
Bulbs are mysterious. It takes faith to believe the homely yet intriguing packages will one day produce something beautiful. Inspecting the daffodil bulbs I purchased a few days ago, I was reminded of the assurance that one day, most likely after a period of resting in the ground unless Jesus returns first (1 Thessalonians 4:13-18), my perishable body will be raised to glory, imperishable:
Behold! I tell you a mystery. We shall not all sleep, but we shall all be changed, in a moment, in the twinkling of an eye, at the last trumpet. For the trumpet will sound, and the dead will be raised imperishable, and we shall be changed. For this perishable body must put on the imperishable, and this mortal body must put on immortality. When the perishable puts on the imperishable, and the mortal puts on immortality, then shall come to pass the saying that is written:
“Death is swallowed up in victory.” “O death, where is your victory? O death, where is your sting?” 1 Corinthians 15:51-55
Hope in Him!
In a few months, springtime will return to the little plot of ground God has entrusted to me, exuberantly pointing us toward Jesus’ return when all things will be made new and all of creation will praise Him. Until then, I will make note of the evidence of things to come, resting in the assurance that God will fulfill all His promises.
Dear Lord, thank You that Your invisible attributes, namely, Your eternal power and divine nature, have been clearly perceived, ever since the creation of the world, in the things that have been made (Romans 1:20).
For to me to live is Christ, and to die is gain. Philippians 1:21
To Stay or Go?
Many Christians have a life verse that sums up their calling and motivates them in their walk with the Lord. I have so many verses that sustain me depending on what I’m going through that I long thought it would be impossible to pick just one. I finally realized Philippians 1:21 was it.
After the Apostle Paul made the bold declaration recorded in that verse, he went on to say:
If I am to live in the flesh, that means fruitful labor for me. Yet which I shall choose I cannot tell. I am hard pressed between the two. My desire is to depart and be with Christ, for that is far better. But to remain in the flesh is more necessary on your account (Philippians 1:22-24).
Paul was in a Roman prison when he wrote the letter to the believers in Philippi. Surely, he would have been better off had the Lord delivered him by calling him Home, yet he was willing to stay for the sake of the gospel and his brothers and sisters in Christ.
Holding on for Our Sake
I thought of this passage multiple times as I sat by Mom’s bedside as she spent the last days of her life in the hospital. I can’t imagine the pain she was in or how much she suffered, physically and emotionally, after she had surgery to repair her hip, broken in a fall. She was barely ever still, and the bruises from the fall, her surgery, and multiple blood draws created a pitiful patchwork on her paper-thin skin.
Those caring for her marveled that one so tiny could endure so much. Yet those of us who knew Mom best recognized the determination that had kept her going when faced with difficulties throughout her life, based on her faith and summarized in her life verse: “I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me.” (Philippians 4:13). After loving us so well for so long, it was as if she didn’t want to leave us, even though it would have been so much better for her to depart and be with her Savior.
Letting Go of Loved Ones
Mom was my best friend, lifelong cheerleader, and most ardent prayer warrior. I couldn’t imagine life without her, much less praying for the Lord to call her Home. Even so, after watching her struggle mightily without making any progress toward recovery, that’s precisely what I did.
Still, she lingered. It was only days, but they were days that felt like months, as one dissolved into another. A friend observed, “Maybe there’s one more person for the Lord to touch with her life.” Perhaps there was.
Mom passed away ten days after she fell. She had fought the good fight, finished the race, and was pain-free in the presence of Jesus at last. I rejoiced in her victory over death, secured by the blood of Christ (1 Corinthians 15:54-57).
Longing for Home
I recently had the opportunity to visit my childhood home. When the current owner noticed my second slow drive-by, she came out to see what was up. As I approached her in the driveway, I introduced myself and apologized for bothering her. I was so overcome with emotion that I could barely speak the words: “I grew up in this house.”
I didn’t ask to go in, but even after exiting the house for the last time 37 years ago, I can still envision the exact layout of the rooms, as well as the furnishings. And when my dreams feature a house I’ve lived in, it’s always that one, despite the fact I’ve lived in my current home almost three times as long.
Pondering the wave of emotion that swept over me as I stood in front of my childhood home has led me to wonder what it will be like when I get to my forever Home, the one Jesus is preparing for me (John 14:2-3). I bet it will feel familiar and oh-so-perfect because, as C.S. Lewis said, “If I find in myself a desire which no experience in this world can satisfy, the most probable explanation is that I was made for another world.”
Promised Reunion
Mom and Dad, my husband, baby sister, grandparents, aunts and uncles, brothers and sisters-in-law, friends – the list of loved ones who’ve gone on to Glory keeps growing. Just as watching loved ones suffer changes our perspective, making it easier to let them go, having more loved ones in Heaven makes it even dearer. Though being in the presence of Christ is enough to fuel our desire to depart and be with Him, the assurance of a grand reunion adds to our longing for Home.
I began with my life verse, and I will end with one of my very favorite passages, one that gives us that assurance and makes me want to shout, “Hallelujah! I can’t wait!” whenever I read it:
Then I saw a new heaven and a new earth, for the first heaven and the first earth had passed away, and the sea was no more. And I saw the holy city, new Jerusalem, coming down out of heaven from God, prepared as a bride adorned for her husband. And I heard a loud voice from the throne saying, “Behold, the dwelling place of God is with man. He will dwell with them, and they will be his people, and God himself will be with them as their God. He will wipe away every tear from their eyes, and death shall be no more, neither shall there be mourning, nor crying, nor pain anymore, for the former things have passed away” (Revelation 21:1-4).
Dear Lord, we long to be with You and rejoice in knowing that one day You will call us Home to live with You forever. Until that day, please help us be faithful to walk worthy of Christ’s gospel and diligent in completing the good works You’ve prepared for us.
He will wipe away every tear from their eyes, and death shall be no more, neither shall there be mourning, nor crying, nor pain anymore, for the former things have passed away. Revelation 21:4
Mourning
Inevitably, when the calendar turns to April, an undercurrent of melancholy seeps into my soul, regardless of what’s going on in my life. The seeds of sorrow were planted in the past and ripen into tears this time of year. I’ve lost several dear relatives in the month of April, including a great-aunt, an uncle, and a sister-in-law.
The most life-changing April losses were the deaths of my husband and mother. On April 19, 1997, Ray, barely 39 years old, left for work on a beautiful spring day, had a fatal heart attack, and never returned home, leaving me to raise our two young daughters on my own. On April 20, 2021, my 89-year-old mother fell, broke her hip, and passed into Glory ten days later after suffering unimaginable pain and frequent delirium.
The day Mom broke her hip was my dad’s 90th birthday. He joined her in the presence of Jesus in the wee hours of July 12, 2023, but no longer being able to celebrate his April birthday or watch the last round of the Masters golf tournament with him, as was our tradition, adds to the angst of this month.
Never Forsaken
Those direct, just-the-facts descriptions of the bereavements belie the emotional punch each one packs. Every year, I’m intentional in remembering my last days with Ray and my first days without him. The numbness, inability to think clearly, and wondering how I’d ever make it without him colored my days. Now, in looking back, I see that God never left me then or in all the years since (Psalm 68:5).
I don’t spend as much time contemplating Mom’s final days. Being in so much pain was agonizing for her. Seeing her in so much pain was heartbreaking for those of us who kept vigil by her bedside. But I know we weren’t the only ones keeping watch over Mom. Her suffering Savior had endured even more, understood the pain, and never forsook her (Isaiah 53:4; Deuteronomy 31:6).
Joy
Despite the melancholy memories associated with the fourth month, April is also full of hope and joy. Here in Georgia, spring has arrived. The plants have woken up from their winter slumber. Trees are bedecked in fresh leaves, azaleas and dogwoods are blooming, and more flowers are popping up daily. It’s as if all creation is praising the Creator and mirroring the Resurrection story (Psalm 96:11-12).
April is also the month we usually celebrate Easter. Some years, my intentional reminiscences of Ray’s last days and Jesus’ final week overlap. Such is the case this year. As I remember my closing days with Ray, I will be thinking about all Jesus endured for us. A week that began with the Triumphal Entry quickly degenerated into betrayal, unjust trials, condemnation, beatings, mocking, and, ultimately, a gruesome death. The 28th anniversary of Ray’s Homegoing falls on the day before Easter, the glorious day that Jesus rose from the grave and changed everything forever (Matthew 28:6).
This week, as I engage in my annual tradition of remembering departed loved ones, I will rejoice in knowing that death doesn’t get the final say. The separation from God and beloved family members and friends is only temporary because Jesus paid the penalty we deserved so that we might spend eternity with Him.
So, I will shed some tears this week. Some will be borne of sorrow, some of wonder at God’s great love in sending His Son to die for us (John 3:16). I will revel in the beauty all around me, knowing it is but a glimpse of the beauty that awaits. And I will endeavor to add my hallelujahs to the chorus of praise because He is Risen! He is Risen indeed, and we are risen with Him! (Ephesians 2:6)
He will wipe away every tear from their eyes, and death shall be no more, neither shall there be mourning, nor crying, nor pain anymore, for the former things have passed away. Revelation 21:4
The end of March inevitably brings with it a sense of melancholy. The foreboding creeps up on me, gradually increasing, until I realize, “Oh, it’s almost April again.”
Mom and I used to dread the arrival of the last week of October each year since her parents and my paternal grandfather passed away on the 25th, 27th, and 30th of different years, but April long ago superseded October when it comes to personal losses.
My beloved husband, Ray, went Home on April 19, 1997, two months after his 39th birthday, stricken by a fatal heart attack. His passing forever severed my life into before-and-after pieces.
Ten years ago, a dear sister-in-law fell while helping Ray’s brother reroof a building on their farm. Marcia succumbed to her injuries on April 12, 2014.
Three years ago, my dear little mom fell and broke her hip on April 20th, my dad’s 90th birthday. Though she survived the surgery to repair her hip, her body and mind were too fragile to recover, and she entered the presence of Jesus on April 30, 2021.
And now here we are, April 2024, the first April of my life that I won’t be able to celebrate Dad’s birthday with him. Though he joined Mom in Glory last July, his birthday will be forever linked to the final days of Mom and Ray’s lives.
That listing may feel like cold, just-the-facts reporting, but I can assure you each one of those losses packs a powerful gut punch regardless of how long my loved ones have been gone. Having missed Ray for 27 years, I know the longing to see Mom, Dad, and others who have gone Home won’t fade away either.
As hard as the losses have been and as deep as the lingering grief is, I know there’s a day coming when I will see my loved ones again. I can be confident because of Jesus’ death and resurrection. And when the day of His promised return arrives, there will be no more death or tears or pain or suffering! Whenever I think about it or read the passage in Revelation 21, I want to shout, “Hallelujah! Praise the Lord! Come, Lord Jesus!!”
Yet, I can’t gloss over the pain of loss because to do so would be to minimize the penalty of sin as well as the ultimate sacrifice it cost Jesus to save us (Genesis 2:16-17; Isaiah 53:5-6; Romans 3:23). Death hurts because it was never part of God’s good plan. Watching our loved ones’ health decline hurts because we weren’t supposed to get old and sick. Missing them hurts because we were never supposed to be separated – from them or God.
We’re in good company when we lament the passing of our loved ones. Even though Jesus knew He would raise His friend, Lazarus, He had great compassion toward his sisters and wept outside his tomb (John 11:32-35).
However, we can grieve with hope because death doesn’t get the final say (John 11:25-26; 1 Corinthians 15).
A friend was visiting the other day and commented on how beautiful my flowers are. I thanked her and explained that April is a bittersweet month for me. I told her that although I revel in the beauty of springtime, I also associate the season with significant losses. Knowing that I love to garden and surveying the vast array of plants on my little property, she said, “That’s why God gave you all these pretty flowers!”
Her statement affirmed what I’ve often thought, and I replied, “I agree! Everywhere I look, creation is shouting ‘resurrection!’ From the colorful flowers to bright green leaves to baby birds, there’s new life everywhere!”
Dear readers, I expect each one of you has experienced significant loss in your life. Jesus told us that we would have tribulations in this world, but He went on to say, “Take heart, for I have overcome the world!” (John 16:33) We can take comfort in His triumph over tribulations as well as in knowing He’s overcome death, the final enemy. Jesus promised to return and make all things new (Revelation 21:1-5). While we await that glorious day, may we see evidence of His love and care all around us, interwoven with shimmering threads of resurrection realities that provide solace for our hurting hearts.
When the perishable puts on the imperishable, and the mortal puts on immortality, then shall come to pass the saying that is written: “Death is swallowed up in victory.” “O death, where is your victory? O death, where is your sting?” 1 Corinthians 15:54-55
There they were, sitting side by side on a sofa at a funeral home – Mom, Dad, and my Aunt Margie, Dad’s only remaining sibling. The occasion? The service for another of his sisters. A solemn thought pervaded my soul later that evening when I gazed at the photo capturing the moment. Mom was one of eight siblings, and Dad was one of ten. Eighteen siblings had been reduced to three, and, given their ages and the relentless march of time, I knew they, too, were drawing near to the end even if the Lord blessed them with several more years.
That was January 2020. Mom passed in April 2021, Dad in July 2023, and Aunt Margie joined the family circle on high ten days ago. Oh, how it hurts to write those words and contemplate the void left in our family. A whole generation is no longer with us.
But what a generation it was! Dad’s family line-up began with two older brothers, followed by four older sisters. Dad came next, the eldest of the four younger boys. The siblings who preceded Dad served in WW II. Uncle Harry was in the army and helped liberate one of the concentration camps. Uncle Fred flew numerous bombing missions. Meanwhile, the sisters worked for the Justice Department in Washington, DC. The younger brothers served our country in later conflicts and times of peace.
With birth dates ranging from 1916 to 1937, Dad and his siblings lived through the hardships of The Great Depression. Their experiences during that tough time and humble beginnings in rural North Carolina undoubtedly shaped their values. During his eulogy for Dad, one of my cousins described him and his siblings with three Ds: Duty to country, devotion to family, and dedication to their chosen professions.
Aunt Margie
I could say so much more about my aunts and uncles, but I want to turn my attention to Aunt Margie.
For as long as I can remember, I’ve known Aunt Margie was a widow who raised four children on her own. My admiration of her as a single mother grew exponentially when I, too, was widowed at a young age and started raising my two elementary-aged daughters alone. Knowing she’d persevered for years and seeing how my cousins turned out inspired me to keep going. It wasn’t until I read Aunt Margie’s obituary that I realized she began her solo journey at an even younger age than I did – 33 years vs 38.
But that wasn’t the only area where Aunt Margie’s determination encouraged me. Like me, she loved to work in her yard and continued to do so well into her 80s.
Mom and Dad kept in touch with Aunt Margie and would fill me in on their conversations, including reports of “Margie was out working in her yard again!” which they inevitably conveyed in concerned tones. My enthusiastic reply? “Good for her! I hope I’m able to do the same!”
I felt a similar sense of, “You go, girl!” when I read this section from Aunt Margie’s obituary:
She didn’t care for Pilates or yoga, and she absolutely despised having to do physical therapy after a fall. She preferred to get her exercise by planting, weeding, and tending her flowers and vegetable garden, and insisted on mowing her yard with a push mower. Her approach to physical fitness served her well, as evidenced by her longevity.
Grandmama
Speaking of longevity, though Dad was the only one of the male siblings to make it into their 90s, all four of his sisters did. Two passed away within days of their 94th birthdays, while the other two made it to 95. And Grandmama, who bore those ten children, surpassed them all. She lived 95 years and 10 months, six months longer than Aunt Margie.
Though I have fond memories of visiting Grandmama when I was a child, I treasure the times I visited her as an adult, especially when it was just the two of us. She’s been gone 30 years, but even now, as I type, I can envision her serene countenance and see the Bible she kept on the table next to her favorite chair. I recall the softness of her skin as I held her hand during our quiet chats.
Another memory comes into focus, one of a visit my husband Ray and I paid her. When our visit was over, Grandmama walked us to the door. As we lingered on the porch, saying our reluctant goodbyes, she said, “Don’t wait too long to come back to see me. I’m going Home soon.”
I have no doubt that confident assurance contributed to Grandmama’s serenity. After a long and often challenging life, she knew she was nearing Home.
The Ultimate Longevity
It’s been heartbreaking to lose so many loved ones over the years. But death doesn’t get the final say. Regardless of how many years God grants us in this life, they’re a mere drop in the vast ocean of eternal longevity. As I grieve the loss of my last aunt, I’m once again turning to the promise of a grand reunion to assuage my sorrow. If it weren’t for that, our lament would know no solace, but because of it, we can rejoice in knowing that for those who die in Christ, death isn’t the end. It is a most glorious beginning.
Dear Lord, last Sunday, we celebrated Your resurrection. Thank You for conquering death so that we, too, will rise again when You return with glorified bodies like Yours that will never get sick or grow old or die! What a joy to know that we’ll be reunited with our loved ones and live in Your presence forever!
I have been crucified with Christ. It is no longer I who live, but Christ who lives in me. And the life I now live in the flesh I live by faith in the Son of God, who loved me and gave himself for me (Galatians 2:20).
Abram believed the Lord, and he credited it to him as righteousness (Genesis 15:6 (NIV).
I’ve been known to gasp over a post-Christmas credit card bill or cringe when writing my annual property tax check, but this may have been a first – tears filled my eyes as I gazed at a deposit to my account. The deposit was present because my husband no longer is.
After dealing with the aftermath of Ray’s sudden death – notifying family and friends, planning and attending his visitation, funeral, and burial services, traveling back and forth to North Carolina – grief clouded my thinking and slowed my body. Not yet able to fully grasp the finality of the situation, I moved through my days moment-by-moment, piecing thoughts and decisions together, struggling to complete a puzzle missing an essential piece.
My parents’ presence not only comforted me, but their clearer minds filled in some of the gaps in my thinking. And so, some ten days after Ray’s passing, at my dad’s urging, we made our way to the Social Security office. I recorded the following in my journal:
“Gathered things to take to meeting with Social Security after I took Mary and Jessie to school – marriage license, passports, M&J’s birth certificates – happy bits of my life, now gathered for a very unhappy purpose.”
Nonetheless, thankfulness and relief washed over me when I heard my minor daughters qualified to receive monthly benefits, based on their dad’s earnings, until their 18th birthdays. I received a small, one-time widow’s stipend along with the news that I would be eligible to collect Ray’s benefits when I reached age 60, at least if I hadn’t remarried by then. Remarrying seemed highly improbable. Like a swan, I felt I mated once, for life. Regardless, my 60th birthday loomed 22 years in the future, a distant speck on a 21st-century calendar, so I filed that bit of information in the far reaches of my mind.
I dedicated myself to raising my daughters, completed a 30-year career at a large corporation, returned to school to study horticulture, and became “Grammie” to three precious little ones. All the while, the calendar pages kept turning with increasing velocity until that distant speck became an entry on my planner, “me – 60!!” Once again, I gathered important documents and went to the Social Security office. Thoughts of the former trip accompanied me, as did so many similar emotions, which became barely-contained tears as I resolutely recounted my story to the kind agent who entered my claim.
Several months later, the first deposit appeared on the designated date, eliciting the tears mentioned above. Ray’s benefits, based on his years of diligent work, were credited to my account. I had done nothing to earn them other than being his widow and believing that the benefits would be there as promised.
Each year, as the April 19th anniversary of Ray’s death approaches, I intentionally think back to my last week with him and my first one without him. My annual remembrance occurs in the same season as Holy Week, another time of intentional remembrance, though the exact dates of the latter change from year to year. From Palm Sunday to Good Friday, I recall the events of each day of Jesus’ final week, all He endured to save me, a destitute sinner with no hope of saving up any treasure worthy of entering the Father’s presence.
And then comes Resurrection Sunday! What joy and gratitude fill my heart, knowing Jesus’ sacrifice paid my debt and credited His perfect righteousness to my account, an account that now overflows with eternal blessings.
Indeed, Jesus’ sinless life, atoning death, and subsequent resurrection guarantee numerous benefits for those who belong to Him. Consider, for example:
Peace with God – Therefore, since we have been justified by faith, we have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ (Romans 5:1). (See also Luke 2:14; Romans 15:13)
Forgiveness – To him all the prophets bear witness that everyone who believes in him receives forgiveness of sins through his name (Acts 10:43). (See also Ephesians 1:7; Colossians 1:13-14)
God’s abiding presence now – And behold, I am with you always, to the end of the age (Matthew 28:20b). (See also Deuteronomy 31:8)
and forever – Then I saw a new heaven and a new earth, for the first heaven and the first earth had passed away, and the sea was no more. And I saw the holy city, new Jerusalem, coming down out of heaven from God, prepared as a bride adorned for her husband. And I heard a loud voice from the throne saying, “Behold, the dwelling place of God is with man. He will dwell with them, and they will be his people, and God himself will be with them as their God (Revelation 21:1-3).
An eternal home – In my Father’s house are many rooms. If it were not so, would I have told you that I go to prepare a place for you? And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come again and will take you to myself, that where I am you may be also (John 14:2-3).
An imperishable body – Behold! I tell you a mystery. We shall not all sleep, but we shall all be changed, in a moment, in the twinkling of an eye, at the last trumpet. For the trumpet will sound, and the dead will be raised imperishable, and we shall be changed. For this perishable body must put on the imperishable, and this mortal body must put on immortality (1 Corinthians 15:51-53. (See 1 Corinthians 15:35-58 for the full description of the change we can look forward to.)
An eternal inheritance – Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ! According to his great mercy, he has caused us to be born again to a living hope through the resurrection of Jesus Christ from the dead, to an inheritance that is imperishable, undefiled, and unfading, kept in heaven for you, who by God’s power are being guarded through faith for a salvation ready to be revealed in the last time (1 Peter 1:3-5).
I’m grateful to receive Ray’s Social Security payments. They connect me to him and remind me of his love and care while he was with me. But each month, when I see that deposit on my statement, it also reminds me of the One who is my ultimate and eternal Provider, the Giver of all good gifts (James 1:17), who didn’t spare His only Son, but gave Him up for us all (Romans 8:32) to secure death benefits of the most enduring kind.
The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it. John 1:5
I’m tired. And a bit grumpy. The same thing happens every year when I lose an hour of sleep as we spring forward to Daylight Savings Time. I get out of sorts just thinking about it. But then, when evening of the shortened day descends, and it’s still light after dinner, I remember the benefits of those extra hours of light at the end of the day, including more time to work in my garden and go for walks.
I’ve shared a number of times on these pages that one of the things I like best about living in Georgia is the early arrival of spring and the long bloom season. Granted, the weather usually teases us with a few stretches of warm days followed by a return to near-freezing conditions before the last official frost date, sometimes with dire consequences for the plants that thought spring had arrived to stay.
But not so with the light. After the winter solstice, daylight gradually increases until the summer solstice, when it begins to decline again. My aunt used to give Mom an almanac calendar that noted the daily amount of daylight to the minute. By the end of December each year, Mom would happily report, “The days are getting longer!”
All this thinking about light led me to ponder THE Light.
In one of His discourses with the Pharisees, Jesus declared, “I am the light of the world. Whoever follows me will not walk in darkness, but will have the light of life.” (John 8:12)
The Apostle Paul affirmed our status in his letter to the Colossians: (The Father) has delivered us from the domain of darkness and transferred us to the kingdom of his beloved Son, in whom we have redemption, the forgiveness of sins (Colossians 1:13-14).
Peter also mentioned darkness and light as he described our incredible identity in Christ: But you are a chosen race, a royal priesthood, a holy nation, a people for his own possession, that you may proclaim the excellencies of him who called you out of darkness into his marvelous light. Once you were not a people, but now you are God’s people; once you had not received mercy, but now you have received mercy (1 Peter 2:9-10).
However, we must not overlook the fact that ushering us into the kingdom of light plunged Jesus into the depths of darkness as He took our sins upon Himself and endured the wrath of God on our behalf, thus removing the barrier between us and the Father:
And when the sixth hour had come, there was darkness over the whole land until the ninth hour. And at the ninth hour Jesus cried with a loud voice, “Eloi, Eloi, lema sabachthani?” which means, “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” . . . And Jesus uttered a loud cry and breathed his last. And the curtain of the temple was torn in two, from top to bottom (Mark 15:33-34, 37-38).
The lyrics of a song we sing at church depict the painful separation of Father and Son. The words often bring me to tears as I contemplate the darkness Jesus endured for us:
How deep the Father’s love for us, How vast beyond all measure, That He should give His only Son To make a wretch His treasure. How great the pain of searing loss – The Father turns His face away, As wounds which mar the Chosen One Bring many sons to glory.[1]
Even though Jesus secured victory over death by His sacrifice on the cross, this world is still marred by sin and brokenness. There are times when we experience darkness, collectively as the Body of Christ and individually – illness, disappointments, broken hearts, and dashed dreams. But, the darkness will never overcome the Light. And, as His representatives, we’re to shine brightly, glorifying God and pointing others to the hope we have in Jesus.
In His Sermon on the Mount, Jesus declared as much:
“You are the light of the world. A city set on a hill cannot be hidden. Nor do people light a lamp and put it under a basket, but on a stand, and it gives light to all in the house. In the same way, let your light shine before others, so that they may see your good works and give glory to your Father who is in heaven.” Matthew 5:14-16
Just as Mom used to get excited about the incremental minutes of daylight, we can rejoice in knowing we’re getting ever closer to Jesus’ promised return. The day is coming when darkness will be defeated once and for all, overcome by the brilliance of the spotless Lamb, surrounded by His followers arrayed in radiant robes of righteousness that have been washed in His blood:
And I saw no temple in the city, for its temple is the Lord God the Almighty and the Lamb. And the city has no need of sun or moon to shine on it, for the glory of God gives it light, and its lamp is the Lamb. By its light will the nations walk, and the kings of the earth will bring their glory into it, and its gates will never be shut by day—and there will be no night there. They will bring into it the glory and the honor of the nations. But nothing unclean will ever enter it, nor anyone who does what is detestable or false, but only those who are written in the Lamb’s book of life (Revelation 21:22-27).
Dear readers, I hope my musings and, more importantly, the passages of Scripture I’ve included in this post will give you some things to consider as we look forward to celebrating Easter later this month. How blessed we are that God loved us so much that He sent His Son to die for us so that we might be welcomed into the kingdom of Light forever!
[1] “How Deep the Father’s Love”, Stuart Townend, 1995 Photo courtesy of Google Images.
Dear readers, the events of the past few years as I walked with Mom and Dad on their Homeward journeys have filled my mind and heart with myriad images and emotions, plenty to ponder, process, and write about in the coming weeks. But today, the brain fog of grief is still with me, and those images and emotions are jumbled together, so I’m rerunning one of my favorite posts with a brief intro.
Last Wednesday, we laid Dad to rest in the little country cemetery where Mom, my husband Ray, and many other cherished relatives are already interred. Until Mom’s funeral two years ago, the peaceful place was an abstract idea for my grandchildren, “where Grandpa Kuipers is buried.” But now they’ve sat in the same wooden pews where several generations of Phillips relatives sat and have seen the Sunday school classroom where I heard Bible stories before joining adults for worship when I visited as a child. They’ve seen the grave markers and felt the tranquility that permeates the very breeze that gently ruffles the leaves of decades-old trees that tower above them.
They’ve also walked the aisles of the general store just down the street from the little church, the same aisles I trod with my beloved grandfather six decades ago. I wrote “Eating Apples” in loving memory of him. I’m not sure if he was the first believer in his family or if our Christian legacy began even further back. Regardless, his faith and faithfulness formed a significant link in my heritage, one that is now shaping a fourth generation.
With the passing of each loved one, the hope of heaven becomes increasingly precious. Just as there is a spot between Mom and Ray waiting to receive my earthly remains, I know Jesus is preparing a place where I will dwell with Him forever. Until then, I pray He will help me to be faithful in sharing His goodness and grace with those He places in my path.
And now, let me introduce you to PaPa, my beloved grandfather.
Eating Apples – encore
So now faith, hope, and love abide, these three; but the greatest of these is love. 1 Corinthians 13:13
Cherished Memories
I don’t have many distinct memories of my grandfather since I was in first grade when he passed away. However, I cherish the recollections I do have. Details provided by my mom as she spoke lovingly of her father over the years complete my mental portrait of this kind and gentle man.
Born July 31, 1890, James Alton Phillips was a short fellow, about 5’ 3”, who weighed 125 pounds, give or take a few. Genetics undoubtedly played a part in his slight build, but a lifetime of hard work farming his land also contributed to his compact physique. My mom was the baby of her family, the youngest of eight siblings, and her father’s darling. He called her “Babe” and warmed her clothes by the fire before she went to school on cold mornings.
Occasionally my grandmother, sterner in her demeanor, would delegate the task of disciplining a wayward child to my grandfather. He would take the offending party outside beyond her view and tell the child to cry out while he used the switch on some inanimate object instead of their legs.
As for me, I recall walking hand in hand with him to the small general store, stopping by the post office to check Box 73 for mail, and waiting for the train to come by so we could wave to the conductor and count the cars. But my favorite activity was eating apples with him. “PaPa,” as I called him, would sit me on his lap, producing an apple in one hand and a small knife in the other. He’d cut a slice for me, then a slice for himself. Back and forth the ritual would continue until we finished the tasty fruit. For as long as I can remember, I’ve eaten an apple almost every day. And when I do, I always think of my grandfather.
A Godly Man
“Mr. Jim,” as the people around town knew him, was a man of faith, a deacon in the tiny country church where he worshiped. He embodied the fruits of the Spirit – love, joy, peace, patience, goodness, kindness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control (Galatians 5:22-23). When he suffered a heart attack a few months before he died, the doctor told him he had to limit his physical activities. The doctor’s order was like a death sentence for a man who loved his garden and was used to being outside. He’d sit in the kitchen of the home he shared with my grandmother, his wife of 55 years, turn his gaze toward the little church, and comment he’d rather be in the cemetery than just sitting around.
Nearly 58 years ago, on October 25, 1965, God called PaPa Home. He had gone outside to check on some work a neighbor was doing for him, work he would much rather have done himself. In a fitting end to his earthly life, he died in his garden. I can still hear my mother’s anguished cry, “No, not Daddy!,” when she received the phone call telling her of his passing.
Abiding Love
Although our relationship was brief in terms of time, and nearly six decades have passed since we last shared an apple, PaPa’s love impacts me to this day. Years after his death, the large corporation I worked for sent me to a training course, one of many I attended during my career. But that one, a self-awareness workshop, was different. A team of psychologists facilitated it, and it was intense. One of our first exercises involved closing our eyes and imagining a safe place. I immediately envisioned myself in my grandfather’s lap, sharing an apple with him. The physical nourishment we’d partaken of paled compared to the bonds of unconditional love and acceptance formed during our time together.
Today I’m privileged to be “Grammie” to three precious grandchildren. Sharing snacks, especially apples, is one of my favorite things to do with them. It connects me to them and them to my grandfather, who they’ve come to know by my loving accounts of my short yet precious time with him.
A Promised Reunion
I don’t get to visit the small graveyard where my grandparents and many other maternal relatives are laid to rest as often as I’d like. My husband Ray is buried there, too, near my sister, Mary Jeannette, who died in infancy. Last spring, Mom took her place between them, leaving a space for me.
When I worked, my job frequently took me to that area of North Carolina, and I’d visit the cemetery as often as possible. I would gaze at the tombstones, each representing someone I love and long to see again, pondering how glorious it will be when we all rise to new life, a life that will never end (1 Thessalonians 4:13-18). For the love we share now is but a shadow of the Love that awaits when the Everlasting Arms reach out to embrace us and welcome us Home (1 Corinthians 13:4-13).
Until then, I’ll remain thankful for little rituals and rock-solid faith, lovingly shared, that can reach across the decades, blessing one generation after another.
O Lord, how great are the gifts of familial love and a heritage of faith! Please help us to be resolute in telling those coming along behind us about Your great love and faithfulness so that they, too, may know the joy and peace of belonging to Your family.
Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for you are with me. Psalm 23:4
“He’s gone.” My throat, tight with tears, barely allowed me to utter the words when I called Dad’s hospice nurse shortly after 3:30 AM Wednesday.
The rollercoaster Dad and I had been riding for the past couple of months, enduring the ups and downs and twists and turns of his precarious health, had come to a gentle stop.[1] Dad disembarked and passed peacefully into the presence of Jesus, leaving me to sob alone on the platform.
Yet even in that dark moment, I knew I wasn’t truly alone. God was counting each tear, assuring me that Dad was better than he’d ever been. And I felt the prayers of friends and relatives, a mighty fortress built petition by petition in the days and hours leading up to Dad’s Homegoing.
When we heard of some tragedy or other, my late husband, Ray, and I often said, “How do people get through (fill in the blank) without faith in God?”
Ray passed away suddenly from a heart attack a few weeks after his 39th birthday. In the intervening years, 26 of them, I’ve endured other life-changing losses, including the elimination of my job after a 30-year career, watching my elderly parents’ health decline, losing Mom two years ago, and now Dad. These and other less significant losses have led me to affirm repeatedly what Ray and I used to say to each other. Without God, I would never have made it through these events and their aftermath, nor will I make it through future hardships.
But I won’t have to.
I’m not fond of the aging process or the accompanying aches, pains, and infirmities, but one thing I do like about increasing years is that I have more and more examples of God’s goodness and faithfulness to file away in my spiritual memory bank. Several passages in addition to the one above from Psalm 23 have become foundational for me, providing comfort when the path before me is grueling or uncertain:
The steadfast love of the Lord never ceases; his mercies never come to an end; they are new every morning; great is your faithfulness. (Lamentations 3:22-23)
It is the Lord who goes before you. He will be with you; he will not leave you or forsake you. Do not fear or be dismayed. (Deuteronomy 31:8)
But (God) said to me, “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” Therefore I will boast all the more gladly of my weaknesses, so that the power of Christ may rest upon me. (2 Corinthians 12:9)
I know challenges lie before me as we plan and have Dad’s funeral, find homes for his belongings, and settle his estate. I fully expect to be riding an emotional rollercoaster for a while, though I doubt the climbs and drops will be as steep as they have been. Even though I will grieve, I will do so with hope, knowing Dad’s faith has become sight and he and Mom are back together, beyond the reach of earthly pains and heartaches.
And I will cling to the promises in the passages above, promises that have withstood the assault of previous trials and misfortunes.
Dear readers, I expect many of you are dealing with your own tribulations. Please remember, we’re never alone, no matter how dark the valley we or our loved ones are walking through. We have the tender care of our ever-present Father. He’s never forsaken us, and He never will. That is our hope and assurance as we traverse the vale of tears.
[1] If you would like to read “The Rollercoaster,” you can find it in Archives, June 2023.
In my Father’s house are many rooms. If it were not so, would I have told you that I go to prepare a place for you? And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come again and will take you to myself, that where I am you may be also (John 14:2-3).
A Difficult Decision
I wasn’t with my husband when he passed away. I was holding Mom’s hand when she took her last breath. Given Dad’s fragile health, I had mixed emotions about embarking on my long-awaited, highly-anticipated trip to South Dakota. However, after much prayer and consultation with close friends, I decided to go. I trusted the Lord knew my plans and would orchestrate the circumstances of Dad’s passing so I would be exactly where I was supposed to be if the time came. Even so, I prayed I wouldn’t be halfway across the country if the Lord called him Home.
At my request, I received daily text updates from Dad’s hospice nurses. Though the ups and downs I described in my last post, “The Rollercoaster,” continued, Dad didn’t experience any extreme lows while I was away. In fact, as I sat in the Denver airport waiting to board my flight back to Atlanta, my phone dinged, announcing the day’s report. Not only did the words contain positive news, but there was also a photo of Dad sitting up, smiling, and eating apple slices. What a wonderful sight! I texted the picture to my daughters along with the message, “Papop’s having a good day!”
Nonetheless, remembering the last time I texted them similar news only to have Dad’s condition plummet a mere 24 hours later, I prayed, “Lord, please give me the grace to deal with whatever situation I find,” as I walked the hall to Dad’s apartment Friday evening.
Joyful Reunion
Much to my delight, I found him awake and ready to eat dinner. A mixture of relief and joy colored his countenance as I approached his bed. When I put my hand in his, he squeezed it tightly and said, “Oh, Patsy! You’re finally back! I’m so happy to see you. I love you so, so much!”
I told Dad about my trip before I left and assured him I would be back in a week, but the stroke he had 20 months ago robbed him of his ability to keep track of time. I could only imagine the week felt more like a month. Maybe he’d even begun to wonder if I’d ever return.
After I helped him with his dinner, he said he needed to call Mike, a dear family friend. I wasn’t sure what he wanted to talk to Mike about in the middle of our visit, but I obliged. When Mike answered, he asked Dad how he was doing. Nothing could have prepared me for his answer.
“Heaven has poured out blessings on me!”
Mike, somewhat puzzled, replied, “Oh, really?”
“Yes, my young’un has come home!”
Suffice it to say, I don’t remember much of the rest of the conversation. Overcome by Dad’s exuberant declaration, I struggled to contain my tears.
Jesus’ Return
As I replayed the scene in my mind, I began to think about Jesus’ promise to return. It’s been a long time since He left, and sometimes we may be tempted to believe He’s forgotten about us and isn’t coming back. Scripture assures us that God is not slow in keeping His promises. Furthermore, much like Dad has trouble keeping track of the days, we don’t reckon time as God does (2 Peter 3:8-9).
Those musings, in turn, led me to recall how rarely my daughters ever cried when I left them in the church nursery or daycare or at a friend’s house with a hug, kiss, and cheerful assurance, “I’ll be back!”
I suppose they knew they could count on it because I’d never abandoned them, though I did get my signals crossed one day, thinking Mom was picking Jessie up from school, only to arrive home and find her missing at the dinner table, but that’s a story for another time!
If my daughters could depend on me, a finite being, to keep my pledge, how much more can we rely on Jesus to keep His?
God the Father vowed to send a Redeemer (Genesis 3:15), and, in the fullness of time, the Son came (John 3:16), fulfilling God’s promise and hundreds of Old Testament prophecies surrounding the Messiah’s birth, life, and death. That’s a way better track record than I have, one that guarantees the trustworthiness of the prophecies and promises yet to be accomplished.
Never Forgotten
When they were little, I doubt my daughters realized that even when we were apart, they were on my heart and in my prayers, and I looked forward to the time when we would be back together. The same is true today and extends to other beloved family members and friends; thus, Dad is never far from my mind, regardless of our physical location.
These sentiments provide an inkling of God’s intense, abiding love for us, recorded by the prophet Isaiah:
Can a woman forget her nursing child, that she should have no compassion on the son of her womb? Even these may forget, yet I will not forget you. Behold, I have engraved you on the palms of my hands (Isaiah 49:15-16).
What a consolation! God hasn’t forgotten us, and He never will, not for a moment. Jesus is preparing a place for us. He’s promised to return and dwell with us forever. It’s a promise we can rely on and joyfully tell others about, just as Dad gladly shared the news of my return with Mike.
I’m thankful to have Dad with us for another Father’s Day. I rejoice even more in knowing we’ll have eternity together in God’s presence, reunited with the loved ones who’ve gone before us. Count on it!
Back 2 the Garden 