My dad was the best dad in the world. Don't bother arguing; I won't hear you. He was. Most kids love their dads, some respect or idolize them, and I was no exception, but I have one more thing to add these: I admired my dad. Still do. He was a spectacular human being.
Every person he ever encountered could have told you that. He didn't see class, or wealth, or appearance. When he looked at you, he saw you, just a person like him, no better, no worse, a person, who deserved love, and respect, and joy. Everyone was important to him, the guy in the drive thru at Taco Bell, the cashier at Wal-Mart. Everyone.
Last summer, my dad left this world to be with Jesus. I will never forget it. It was the worst day of my life. My mom, my sister Jessie, and I were/are shocked. It was the last thing we expected.
I've been a Christian since I was 15 - that's 11 years, in case you were wondering, and I know my Jesus. I know Him. I put my trust in Him because He convinced me of His love, convinced me He was worthy of my faith. He has proven Himself to me time and time again. Steadfast and true, He is my refuge, my peace, my all. But I couldn't make sense of the loss. I couldn't understand why the Lord would take my father from me. I don't believe that God causes every death, but with my dad, I knew, Jesus took him. I just couldn't find a reason for it.
I was furious. I felt betrayed. I felt hopeless. I felt alone.
The pain was indescribable.
I railed at God, my Heavenly Father, who was supposed to be there for me, who always had been. That first night, by myself in the quiet in the dark, I couldn't hold back the sobs. I couldn't hold back the torrent of anger. I didn't know if I'd ever be able to trust Him again. That terrified me.
"Aren't you supposed to be comforting me right now?!" I demanded. "WHERE ARE YOU?"
I knew He was there; I could feel His presence, but it was like He was standing on the other side of the room. Not holding me the way I expected, not answering, just listening while I spewed vitriol.
The next night, I was mad at Dad, my earthly dad. He left. He must've thought Mom, Jessie, and I were strong enough to lose him, but I told him he was wrong. We wouldn't survive this, I said. I didn't believe we would.
Still, Jesus stood in the corner, listening.
The third night, the tears returned, like clockwork, and a single thought broke through the agony: Remember, the Lord has always been faithful.
I could remember. I allowed myself to recall all the times He'd been there, He'd answered my questions and prayers, He'd helped, He'd healed. Jesus had never forsaken me.
And He spoke, not audibly, but the Bible says His sheep know His voice. It's clear, quiet and peaceful deep within the heart. He told me He'd been waiting, keeping His distance, while I was angry, while I raged, until I was ready to hear Him, ready to let Him comfort me. In fact, I realized, if He'd tried to console me before, I'd have only gotten angrier. I wanted to be livid. The poison had to be expelled.
And I understood then, so clearly, He'd allowed it, He'd let me behave and feel like I did because He loved me and it was what I needed.
Can you imagine that? Just think about it for a second. He didn't deserve my wrath; my father's life, his loss, was not about me, but between him and Jesus. It wasn't my place to call God out on that decision, to call God a traitor because I was hurting, but He took it, took all that venom, for me.
I don't have the mercy to do that. If someone is unjustly angry with me, I stand up for myself. I tell them they're wrong and an idiot, and they should apologize for slandering me. Even if they need to be mad, I have to defend myself. It's not fair to me, and I tell them so.
But not God. No, the Creator of the universe is better than I am. He not only let me scream and snarl, He listened. He understood. He didn't stop me. He didn't leave.
An eternal God, maker of all things, gave me space, something so small, but so huge.
That is Love.
I knew then that I'd be okay. We'd be okay. My God is faithful, and scripture says, "He makes all things work together for the good of those who love Him, who are called according to His purpose." He loves me.
He loves you too.
Whatever you've been through, however you're hurting, no matter what you've done or who you are, He loves you. He wants to heal your brokenness. He wants to make you whole. He wants to give you peace and joy and life abundant. He wants carry you through it all, giving you exactly what you need, working all things for your good.
He wanted me to tell you that.
Jesus loves you. Let that powerful truth wash over you because there is nothing greater in creation.
I leave you with a little bit of Bible, because it says it better than I do, and a song, because it was written in a time of loss, and Mom, Jessie, and I sang it for Dad's memorial. It says it perfectly.
"O taste and see that the LORD is good; happy are those who take refuge in Him." - Psalm 34:8
"But Zion said, 'The LORD has forsaken me, my LORD has forgotten me.' Can a woman forget her nursing child, or show no compassion for the child of her womb? Even these might forget, yet I will not forget you. See, I have inscribed you on the palms of my hands..." - Isaiah 49:14-16a
