No More Crying There:  We Are Going to See the King

“Sometimes it hurts because you are not here with me…but you…are still a part of me”

These are lyrics from a song I often sing entitled “I Wish” by Trinitiee 5:7. The song speaks of the loss of a special person in someone’s life. You would think it’s a song of lament. However the song is rather upbeat, delightful even. In one breath it admits the brokenness felt when someone special has gone on. And at the same time it rejoices over the fact that those special ones in our lives are, indeed, still a part of us. Their memories remain. Their brightness. Their smile. And their warmth.

I felt that this morning preparing to preach as I thought about my Mom whom we lost almost 20 years ago now. Sometimes it hurts because she’s not here with me. But she’s still a part of me.

Sunday mornings are special. I’m typically up before day asking God to prepare my heart to preach. Today’s morning (I’m so sleeeepy) began with dish-washing…ya know…do something to wake up the body. Listening to music obviously. Then I began to think about God’s blessings in my life; my beautiful best friend and wife. Our little boy. This little one (Carson Grand) who’s on his way. Well, who can’t smile reflecting on all that? At the same time I lamented the fact that they won’t know their Grandma in ways I’d hoped. I do that more often these days. Many a day I’ve wished April and Mom could shop together and realize in one purchase at the big sale that God made them the two most deal-findingest women the earth ever did see. That both of them would realize in one hour that they have the most infectious laughs EVER. That there’s not a need they’d see that they could ever walk past. That the special way they take care of their babies and faithfully nurture and teach them makes you want to sit, watch closely, and examine every next move they make. That they’re both the kind of women Solomon might have had in mind when he wrote Proverbs 31. There are many days I wish Cam could see his Grandmama and hang out with her for the day and enjoy 100% spoiling whilst I watch in agony knowing I’ll have to work even harder to deprogram him. That when his Daddy makes the whole family dance to some good ole music and jump and move all around is not a tradition he created but one that his grandma did ALL the time to liven up her hubby and her kids—and we loved her for it. That Cam could see that his nose is not his Dad’s nose…but it’s his Grandma’s nose. That he’s indeed a cute one—but both his grandmothers chipped in on that. That those big brown eyes of his that seem to be able to capture all the light in the room and reflect them back to you with a sense of both calm and candor come not just from us, but also from his Grandma too.

I wish she were here.

Because maybe some of those tough days wouldn’t be as tough.

Maybe those fearful moments wouldn’t be so scary.

Maybe some of life’s lack wouldn’t feel so…so…so lacky.

Enter in Jesus. The Scriptures say of my Lord that he is like a friend that sticks closer than a brother. The Scriptures tell me he has made up his mind that he will never leave me nor forsake me. The Scriptures say of him that on my darkest of days he will walk with me—and give me peace. For he has solved the problem of my sin. This is the greatest miracle of all. Yet under that umbrella He has won victory over all of life’s ailments; sadness, separation, loneliness, and pain. And what’s more, he has answered our greatest question that unsettles us deep down—the question of the future. Paul rejoiced over this—O death where is thy sting? O grave where is thy victory?

I rejoice this morning that the reason I can sing sad lyrics with an upbeat heart is because of this future victory that all those who’ve trusted in Christ will celebrate—Eternity in Heaven. Hallelujah. This life brings its ups and downs. Its pains and reliefs. Its joys and sorrows. This life is replete with the ‘already but not yet’ tension the theologians so adeptly describe in their volumes. But when tumultuous times come, and the fears of the realities of this life darken the doors of our heart—remember that our home is not this world. We are all headed somewhere. Where there will be blessed and blissful togetherness. The clocks of time will cease. And we will only know peace, joy, calm, and unity at the feet of Christ. The old folks used to sing it this way, “No more crying there…we are going to see the King.” And there we will ALL be. Together. Forever. Hallelujah.

Let us live in today with our hopes fixed in what Christ has done in time past and what He shall complete in time future. Earthly virtue will be found in heavenly perspective. That’s it. And it’s good news.


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