Romans 8:22 “We know that the whole creation has been groaning as in the pains of
childbirth right up to the present time.”
Less than 48 hours ago I was sitting in the
middle of the living room floor. This is how we do dinner. Plates on the coffee
table in front of us, legs crossed on the rug, cat somewhere nearby trying to
get a swipe at something from the plate. We’ve done this our entire marriage
and it is one of the most comfortable places, emotionally, I know of. When we
are traveling, I crave to get back to this place. It’s our familiar routine. It’s
our time of togetherness where we eat, almost in silence, while we watch our 1
hour of television and virtually unpack our work day. Cooking relaxes me and
tonight was no different as I carried our plates to our nook and climbed down
into the floor to begin the “unpacking”. As I sit, and eat, and shoo away the
cat on occasion, I literally can feel the tension slide out of my body as I sit
on the left, Ron on the right and someone else’s life plays out in front of me.
Yet tonight, as we were watching one of our favorite shows, things took a
sudden and drastic turn.
There on the screen ahead of me, mid-bite
on my end, without any notice whatsoever (as screen writers so very much like
to do), there she suddenly lay, on the pavement beside her car, no longer
talking, lifeless from the bullet…..and immediately, I couldn’t breathe. I
mean, literally, it was as if my rib cage no longer knew what it was supposed to
do anymore and all I could find was a millimeter of movement and the result was
shallow breaths, rapid heart rate, and an emotional ache that was
indescribable.
In under 5 seconds I morphed from the most comfortable
place in my home to feeling as though a tanker truck was sitting on my chest
with tears flowing down my face and words unable to come out of my mouth…all
because our body is vulnerable. This isn’t the first time this has happened. It’s
like the third. And I feel like a pro now.
Two years have passed by since Andy’s death
and yet our suffering remains real.
I know this to be true because without any sign of it coming, it smacks me in
the face on a random evening while eating dinner. Our
pain is tangible. I know this to be true because it lingers for
hours on end with physical ramifications after it surfaces and carries a weight
that is measurable and evident to those around me. Our
ache is just under the surface. I know this to be true because it
slips out from under my skin and you can’t hold it back once it starts its ruthless
escape. On any given day I see none of this. But here, given just the right
circumstances and environment, the roots take hold and grief sprouts its head
in bloom.
I shouldn’t be all that surprised. It’s
been a week surrounded in people experiencing loss. I’m rather flooded in it
actually, and when others feel loss, I find myself feeling their every ache all
the deeper now. But even without that surrounding, I know this 10 second story
line would have produced the same physical response as the similarities were
too exact. And our bodies are what they are. Trauma exposes itself. But what I
know is that our experiences and responses hold
no shame. For Romans 8:22 reminds us that we live in a world of
circumstance, and circumstance that inflicts grief, suffering, ache, and pain…and
that pain will be excruciating. We aren’t people that have to hold it all
together. We don’t have to be stoic. We don’t have to sail through in
perfection. We aren’t perfect and we shouldn’t claim to be. We said excruciating
pain. Therefore we need to understand that it is ok to not be ok. The only thing
we HAVE to be is present.
But in that reminder that there will be
pain, a groan-causing pain, in the very same chapter of Romans we are reminded
of the promises of God’s glory. God always provides the faith outcome when he
brings to light the challenge.
“23Not only so, but we ourselves, who have the
firstfruits of the Spirit, groan inwardly as we wait eagerly for our adoption
to sonship, the redemption of our bodies. 24 For in this hope we were saved. “
As I gathered up the dishes and headed back
towards the bedroom to reclaim myself, I reminded myself that in
our pain we see a God of Hope. My groaning ache is a physical
response to a feeling of loss. But oh what Joy is found in the promises of
Hope. All of creation is eagerly awaiting that moment when loss is no more.
When we stand reunited with God the Father and all is restored. Death and loss
has nothing over us when we know what is coming. I still suffer. I still pain,
with loud excruciating groans at times. I still ache as tears stream down my
precious face. But oh, the hope of knowing of his promises and the Joy I find
in the day to day blessings - even in tragic unimaginable loss.
Christ is still pursuing me even in and
through Andy’s death. He longs for me to see his promises. He longs for me to
cry out to him in my grief, and with no shame. He longs for me to see his
eternal pursuit of me and his love in and through circumstance.
Romans 8 declares this: “38 For I am convinced
that neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons,[k] neither
the present nor the future, nor any powers, 39 neither height nor depth,
nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of
God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord.”
I’m no longer shocked or caught
off guard by the physical reactions. I know how to navigate them. Ron almost
sees them before I do. I’m always going to grieve Andy with heartbreaking
emotion. We will always experience wretched pain on this side of eternity. “The
whole of creation is groaning” with loss, with ache, with pain…with hunger for
restoration. Our only
chance is embracing and clinging to the Hope that Christ promises and delivers. There’s no shame in what you are experiencing. There is
no timeline. But find that Hope. God is pursuing you relentlessly. There is no
greater love and there is no greater rescue. And there is no greater place for you to place
your grief.
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