Today would have been my dad’s 61st birthday. Two months ago, he passed away while riding his bike on a Monday afternoon.
Over the last two months my family and I have buried and grieved my dad, have celebrated his life and accomplishments, and have processed his passing individually and together. Some days, life feels back to ‘normal’ with church, work, family, and friends occupying my time and energy. I think about my Dad and have peace. Other days, sorrow wells from the spring of grief. There is an ache that throbs and reminds me that this world is broken. The loss is characterized by waves: grief and laughter come from the same memories, and often hit when least expected.
There have been moments this week that have ripped open the scab of bereavement. Thinking about my son to be born in a month makes me long for dad. Seeing a remarkable fall tree or climbing a fascinating rock formation, makes me want to share it with him. A piece of me is gone… yet I know this loss is a temporary thing. Death does not have the final say; our hope in Christ bleeds through the broken cracks of this life and offers peace.
On that Monday night, when Mom called me with the news of my Dad’s death, as I sat with Callie in the silence of shock, tears, and grief, God allowed me a clear view of Christ. I gained comfort in the loss, knowing that my Savior had experienced my pain.
Jesus knew my agony. He too had lost his earthly father.
A brief passage in the Gospel of John took on a new significance for me, and I learned to love my Savior more. While Jesus was hanging on the cross, he saw his mother Mary and his disciple John in the gathered crowd. In an act of kindness, he told his dear friend John to care for Mary as his own mother, and for Mary to love John as her own son. And the text tells us that from that day on, Mary went to live in the house of John.
The implication of the passage is that Joseph, Jesus’ earthly father had died. Jesus was calling John to support his Mom because his father had passed away and could no longer care for her.
I had known this before… but on Monday night it struck me for the first time that Jesus watched his Dad die.
Whether Joseph died of an accident, or from a wasting disease, or suddenly in his workshop, Jesus had experienced the death of his adoptive father.
Christ, the Lord of Glory who upholds everything by the word of his power, The King of Life, The Resurrection Himself, watched death claim his dad.
Jesus could have saved Joseph from death. He could have healed his dad or even brought him back to life as he did with Lazarus. Think about that. He could have gone through his ministry with his dad at his side; the man who loved him most in all the world. His Dad could have supported and encouraged him in his trials and been the one to proclaim his son’s kingdom and glory to the world.
But instead, Jesus bore the grief of holding his mother at Joseph’s grave. He wept with his siblings in the dark of night, and carried the weight of loss.
And we have to ask… If Jesus had the power to stop Joseph from dying why didn’t he do it?
Why didn’t he save his dad?
The only explanation is that at death there is something greater that awaits those in relationship with God… That Joseph’s death ushered in something that far outweighed the joys of this life. The anguish and the pain that rips our hearts at the loss of those we love serves a higher purpose and a greater good. Jesus gave his dad into the loving arms of his Father.
Jesus went to the cross and died so that all believers in him, including his dad, and my dad, and you and me, could have something better than an extended or comfortable life on this earth.
An eternal life awaits those who hope in him that far outstrips anything we could dream or imagine. The promise is that one day, even our pain will be turned into joy. Those things that are the most bitter will become sweet, and we will see and know the glory of God’s sovereignty in all things.
We grieve the pain and the evil now… O yes, death is bitter and overwhelming.
But we grieve as those with hope. We grieve as those who see the dawn approaching; who have a Lord who has gone through death and conquered it. One who knows the pain of death, and himself died that death would be destroyed. Jesus is the Resurrection and the Life.
Isaiah tells us that Jesus was a man of sorrows and acquainted with grief. Jesus is no stranger to your suffering. Jesus knows our grief at the loss of those we love the most. When I think of Christ, I know peace. I recognize his love and kindness even in the face of the death of my dad.
May my tears and your tears soon be swallowed up in the victory of the cross. Come Lord Jesus!
Adventures of the Bostroms 