Grief alters time. The days become long and the nights are endless. No matter how many people surround you, they cannot change the feeling of being lost and alone, because grief is a solitary pain. My granddaughter’s life was eclipsed by grief this week when her father was suddenly killed in a motorcycle accident. I watched as her mother, my daughter, did what she could. It is the ancient art of nurturing. With deep humility I watched as my daughter encircled her daughter with love, knowing that she could not take away the pain she saw in her child's tear-stained eyes.
“There were also women looking on from a distance, among whom were Mary Magdalene, and Mary the mother of James the younger and of Joses, and Salome, When He was in Galilee, they followed him, and there were also many other women who came up with him to Jerusalem” (Mark 15:41,42). They had been there when Jesus had made His triumphant entry into Jerusalem. Their voices had joined in with the multitude as they cried out, “Hosanna! Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord! Blessed is the coming kingdom of our father David! Hosanna in the highest heaven!” Their hearts, minds and souls were wrapped in wonder of the joy that lay before them.
Why had the women followed Jesus from Galilee to Jerusalem? They were there to minister to His needs and those of His disciples. They were quietly taking care of daily needs. However, in the presence of Jesus no one was in the background. In the eyes of Jesus these women were His mother and His sisters. He Himself had said, “Whoever does the will of God, the same is my brother, and my sisters, and mother” (Mark 3:34,35).
Jesus touched each individual life. Mary Magdalene had been possessed by seven demons. Her life had been a living hell. Her actions had been dictated by the darkness that dwelt inside her. There had been no escape--that is, until she encountered the light of the world. The bonds that bound her heart, the shackles that had held her prisoner fell off, and she was free. Where once there had been darkness there was light; where once there had been death there was life. When the demons were gone she rose to follow Jesus, to follow wherever He would lead.
Often when you become a mother your name is lost. The mother of John and James had a name. Her name was Salome. She had dreams for her sons, and she felt close enough to Jesus to voice those dreams. She asked that her sons might sit on Jesus’s left and right when He established His kingdom. On Monday when she had joined the throng in joyful praise she had believed that Jesus would soon set up His kingdom, but by 9 o’clock Friday morning those dreams were dashed. There was Jesus, hanging on a cross. There were thieves hanging on His left and on His right. Salome did not walk away, because she was not only the mother of James and John, she was a follower of Jesus.
What do you do when you encounter sudden and unforeseen grief? How do you respond when the Sovereign Lord allows suffering you cannot comprehend? I believe when we encounter an altering of our stories and the stories of those we love that we are invited to humble our hearts and bend our knees. God alone is the author, but we find our place in the story by our presence and encircling those we love. In humble service we do the will of God.
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