One was a service for a two-soon-to-have-been-three year old girl who passed away after fighting a debilitating illness she had been with since her birth. The second was of a husband, father and grandfather who died unexpectedly at age 71. The third was of a friend who had lived to the ripe old age of 98 and up until a month ago was still playing tennis every week and getting around like someone 30 years younger.
It became clear to me that death was hugely disruptive in every case and something jarring happened in God's created order. At the same time, death was not victorious for there was much to celebrate in these three precious lives and in each one's place in eternity. God's purposes and plans were different for all three people yet we knew that His hand was evident in each of these three lives.
A good friend reminded me recently that our hope for the future gives us the courage and determination to live fully and abundantly in the present; to embrace all that life has to offer right now in this very moment.
I will include a short note I wrote to the family of the little girl who passed away as part of the comments to this post.
2 comments:
We Will Dance...
Words cannot convey the beauty and grace of *your little girl's* memorial service yesterday. I can say without hesitation that I have never been to a memorial service that left me with such hope for the future mixed with a clear understanding of the pain we all feel now. In the short trajectory of her nearly three years she had a lifetime of impact on those around her. I will never forget your rector's comments about the fact that she was the first baby born into your young Anglican church plant, the first child baptized and now the first death. How could someone so young hold all of that yet God used her precisely in ways that unfathomable.
I never got to hold your precious little girl and yet I was able to see her from a distance. I really understood so little of what you and *your wife* were dealing with but I can tell you that view through a glass darkly grew crystal clear during the time we had together yesterday. My wife has on several occasions pointed me to your blog and I know that she has been deeply moved over the years by all that you were dealing with.
This note to you will not do justice to how my soul was stirred yesterday. Every aspect of that service had deep meaning from the delicate sounds of the harp before the service started to the soulful playing of the flute as you and your family walked into the service to the divinely inspired words that were spoken by your rector, by you and then by Chip. It was almost too much to absorb but you see God has used *your little girl* in that precise way to impact those around her. The singing of that last song We Will Dance was a beautiful act of worship - in fact I have listened to that song more than ten times this morning as I reflect on our time together yesterday.
*Your little girl's* condition was almost too much to absorb with our frail human logic. In retrospect it seemed grossly unfair that God would allow such a little person to be born with such serious problems. You and *your wife* have demonstrated the power of God's love through you in ways that you may never understand. You will feel that ache of not being to help her anymore but you have released her to that One who cares for her with infinite love. What more could a parent ask for?
God has called you to this time of suffering for a reason. You have lived in this continuum for almost three years. It has shaped you for his kingdom in ways that are hard to fathom yet I know for certain that *your little girl* has given you a gift that will allow you to serve others in unprecedented ways. I could not help but think of all the young Trinity hearts and minds that were grasping your every word yesterday with rapt attention.
I am praying for rest for you and *your wife*. I will pray for your marriage that it will be strengthened rather than torn down. I will pray for your son that he will not be overwhelmed at this tender age by such a tragic loss. I will pray that God's Kingdom will be magnified and I have no doubt already that prayer is being answered. Finally I am praying that all of us will not simply be moved by the powerful messages of yesterday in some transitory manner but that in some profound way God's strength would be perfected in our weakness.
A deeply meaningful poem written by Brian Morgan - pastor at Peninsula Bible Church/Cupertino. He wrote this on what would have been his daughter's 17th birthday. His daughter died as a tiny baby only a few days old. The year before this little girl died he and his wife had also lost an infant son.
This was part of a sermon he preached which is referenced in the following link:
http://www.pbcc.org/sermons/morgan/916.pdf
LET IT RAIN
O Jessica, nine months we waited
For your precious hidden frame
To break through the darkness
And turn our souls into day.
Unto us it was given,
Morning came, its dawn so bright,
It loosed our sackcloth,
And girded us with light.
Your form so pure,
Yours the sweetest gaze
A mother’s dream,
A father’s praise.
Then on the third night
While I slept, you cried.
Your mother held you tight,
She knew, but it was hidden from me.
All through the darkness she cared for you
Then gently laid you upon the altar.
She knelt beside those well hewn stones and wept.
Then I heard the shophar’s ringing cry...
Terror struck, “Impossible!” I cried,
“Could it be to walk this way again
Conception to pain, never to regain
When the first born, has already paid?”
I pulled back, withdrew,
Traumatized by the pain I already knew.
I could not stay and watch
For now I knew.
My eyes could not gaze on your little tent
Which would all too soon
Be broken down and laid to rest
In the earth rather than upon a breast.
Waves of grief came crashing down,
Heaven was calling through the rain,
“Pour out your heart like water,”
But I turned and left, numb from pain.
O Jessica, nine months we had waited
For your precious hidden frame
To break through the darkness
And turn our souls into day.
O Jessica, O Jessica, where are you now?
Where did the Sower plant the seed?
I long to know
But it is hidden from me.
O could I now go back,
And that dark hour relive,
When you lay limp and still,
I would be your papa and give.
I wanted to forget, it was easy to forget
but I could not forget
You my first precious daughter,
Jessica Lynne.
Sixteen years past,
And in my wanderings here
I came across that valley again.
It was raining.
This time I did not turn away
But obeying heaven’s command,
I knelt beside the stones
And stayed until dawn’s early light.
O Holy night, Angels sang,
The grip of night grew limp,
He appeared
And each soul felt its worth.
He did not turn away
Traumatized by pain
But stretched out His hand
And placed it into the flame.
Beyond His hand I saw
The wrist - impaled by my spear
Pierced so deep with wounds
Yet draws me near.
Beyond the wrist, His gaze,
O that gaze, ablaze ablaze
With such love it burst my breast
Evoking deepest praise.
O death where is thy victory,
O grave where is thy sting?
Captured with awe, I stared and stared
And then I knew,
That when I left,
He had cared for you.
O Jessica,
Hardly thy life clear forth of heaven was sent,
Ere it broke out into a smile and went.
So swift thy days, a gift to us was lent
Thou, now a daughter and saint inextricably blent,
Wilt one day teach thy father in some heavenly tent.1
In appreciation for my daughter
Jessica Lynne Morgan
November 30, 1976 - December 4, 1976
A bright morning star.
1 The closing five lines were adapted from George MacDonald’s trib-
ute to his child in the Diary Of An Old Soul.
© 1993 Peninsula Bible Church/Cupertino
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