I found out that a friend from church passed away yesterday. Either in her late 60s to mid 70s, she had been fighting cancer for a while. It even seemed like she was on the mend. She recently had surgery to take out the cancer. They thought they got it all. But the cancer came back. Aggressively. Stage four. I know she knew Jesus, so that should be a comfort to my heart. But even after the reminder from my pastor, my tears dripped along my cheek, while my heart’s beat increased in its pulse. I wasn’t just sad that a friend (not just a distant elder in my church) passed away. I was angry. Alone in my bedroom, I asked a question that most reverent worshippers wouldn’t dare, for fear that they are overstepping the sovereignty of their God: “Daddy, why didn’t you give her a miracle?” I realize that healing is not always on this side of heaven, but…but when you have been to as many funerals as I have; when you have buried as many individuals who died in the prime of their lives; when the word cancer riddled your heart as a teen; even though knowing Jesus conquered death, there are moments that death still seems to have the victory. “Daddy, why didn’t you give her a miracle? Why didn’t you heal her? Why did you have me pray with her for healing last fall, if she was going to die, anyway?” There has been confusion with my sorrow. In the past, I have been ashamed of the emotions I have felt in response to things that have happened. I have felt guilty for feeling sad over a Christian dying. After all, if they are in heaven, shouldn’t I be in celebration for them being in the place where we would all want to be? This morning, I was thankful that I found God didn’t tell me that I should stick with my Bible reading plan. He didn’t deny me to process hidden emotions; rather, He welcomed the confrontation, so that I can see things from His perspective. So, instead of reading the Gospels, I felt an impression. “Read Psalms 45:7.” “(Back up to 45:6) Your throne, O God, is forever and ever; a scepter of righteousness is the scepter of Your kingdom, You love righteousness and hate wickedness; therefore God, Your God, has anointed You with the oil of gladness more than Your companions.” I still didn’t understand. I don’t understand why My King - though I know He is good - chooses to work in some peoples’ lives, and others, He doesn’t. Oh why in this world, do bones still have to break (thank you, The Chosen, for that line)? And yet, I heard my Father say, “It’s not [too] sorrowful a day when I call one of My children home. Death does not win when Christ is (in someone’s heart). Read the context of 1 Corinthians 15:57.” Before I jumped to the 1 Corinthians chapter, I decided to read Psalms 45 in completion. As I reached verses 10-15, I couldn’t but help but think that the “daughter” in the psalm could be similar to what my friend is going through at this moment. She is desired by her King, and she is worshiping Him. She is a royal daughter- all glorious within the palace, wearing clothing woven as with gold. She shall be brought to her King; with gladness and rejoicing she shall be brought. As I finally read 1 Corinthians 15 (the entire chapter), my heart suddenly opened to a revelation about the resurrection of Jesus in a way that I don’t think I had. “Part of the promise of salvation is resurrection. It is not eternal life in this body - and thank God for that!! Could you imagine being stuck with a body riddled with cancer? But there are new bodies in heaven (without pain and won’t break). My first coming was to save the soul. My second coming is to save the body (creation).” I know that death will be swallowed in victory. Still there is a wrestling…why not now? Turns out that death is going to be the last enemy destroyed (see 1 Corinthians 15:26-27); nevertheless, Jesus indeed still has the victory. When we believe in His sacrifice, though death may touch our bodies, it will not steal our souls. That being said, I have become more aware how brittle my faith actually is. It scares me how certain things can make me so bitter and doubt the goodness of God. I am thankful for what God showed me, and I’m reminded of Mercy Me’s song, “I Can Only Imagine” as a song of comfort to draw on, during this time. But I don’t want death to threaten my faith any more. I don’t want to lose hope in the face of pain. So with all this written, God, increase my faith!!
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