I watched my uncle’s life escape his body. I watched as his daughter cried and his sisters sighed at the loss of someone they love deeply. His last breath came and went to the aether. His heart stilled like all the relationships with his children, his sisters, his friends. The pallor colour took over his body as the blood took the path of least resistance and pooled to the lowest point. His body didn’t move, but he was gone.

Though the grief was heavy on my family, we did not bear it alone. Yet, we each felt it alone.

The grief over his last days culminated in the tears of the living surrounding the dead. The unexpected trips to say goodbye, the harried-ness of the time to have one last moment with him, the change of plans and purpose to see him once more puts life in perspective. That the end of all living is death. Mankind is like the flowers that fade when the breath of God is upon them. In that space looking at the dead, I felt this deeply.

My heart has been heavy this year. Sorrow has been a common thread in my relationships. The loss of something; sometimes hard to put in words. The loss of time, or of space, or of life, or of innocence, or of understanding, or of forgiveness, or of mercy, or of kindness. Pain has been a constant companion, a familiar friend.

Perhaps you, likewise, have experienced grief in the loss of relationships, in the regret of an action or word, in the evils felt in this world, in the sorrow of life unexplained. In this heaviness, the body desires nothing more than to hide from all people and responsibilities, the mind escapes pain and suffering pushing away tears and stuffing down feelings, and the soul throws prayers at this God whose character is HESED.

Though the grief is heavy on the soul, we do not bear it alone. Yet, it is lonely felt.

I found myself saying prayers, not that isn’t true, screaming prayers trying to alleviate this grief from my heavy heart to His haunting home. My prayers were not words said, they were words felt, words crashing against my soul reverberating through the space where I uttered them. Though I screamed and the world shook, I could not loosen this burden off me. All my bodily words did nothing to shake me free of the burden of sorrow and grief.

In the aftermath, there was only silence. Utter silence.

Nothing shatters the soul more than the silence of God.

I sent my words, send my words, continually to the Word. My words are temporal and temperamental. His Word is eternal and steadfast. And maybe, just maybe, some of my words tie, no bind like the combination of atoms into molecules, into His through this world – this space and time I occupy. And maybe, just maybe, I mingle with the eternal if evanescently. And my prayers are heard in the strident and the silent.

In the aftermath of my explosive prayers before the LORD of HESED, I still feel the grief from sorrows my voice no longer can utter, my heart no longer can carry. I can’t help but wonder if this year was meant for me to feel this deeply:

He had no form or majesty that we should look at him, and no beauty that we should desire him. He was despised and rejected by men, a man of sorrows and acquainted with grief; and as one from whom men hide their faces he was despised and we esteemed him not. Surely he has borne our griefs and carried our sorrows; yet we esteemed him stricken, smitten by God, and afflicted.

Isaiah 53:2b-4

Though my grief is heavy on my soul, I do not bear it alone. Yet, I endure it because He already carries it with me. This baby born in Bethlehem was the one to be despised and rejected, a man of sorrows and acquainted with grief. Only a man like this can carry my sorrow and bear my grief. And though I know this, I still esteem him not.

But he was pierced for our transgressions; he was crushed for our iniquities; upon him was the chastisement that brought us peace, and with his wounds we are healed. All we like sheep have gone astray; we have turned – every one – to his own way; and the LORD has laid on him the iniquity of us all.

Isaiah 53:5-6

If I’m utterly honest, the grief I feel includes my own regret at my own actions and words that have caused harms to others, even those silent hurts others feel that I am unaware of. And equally as honest, the grief I feel is my own imagination run wild with what ifs and how comes even though these add not one moment to my life. Again, if I am completely honest, the grief I feel comes from the sins of my friends and family that are done against me openly and behind my back, because even this bites hard.

I can sense what you are thinking: “Oh, spiritofmemories, how can you write something so melancholy during this joyous of seasons?” And you are right. Christmastime is a reflection of the wonderful creative and redemptive process of a God whose character is HESED. But creation and redemption mean nothing if we ignore this condition that we exist in. The sorrow we bear over our own guilt, the grief we experience over the loss of relationships, the pain we feel over hurts and harms done, the hopelessness we find ourselves in when we focus on the sins of this world, this is the life we live until our last breath.

He was oppressed, and he was afflicted, yet he opened not his mouth; like a lamb that is led to the slaughter, and like a sheep that before its shearers is silent, so he opened not his mouth. By oppression and judgement he was taken away; and as for his generation, who considered that he was cut off out of the land of the living, stricken for the transgression of my people? And they made his grave with the wicked and with a rich man in his death, although he had done no violence, and there was no deceit in his mouth.

Isaiah 53:7-9

Crazy how at this time, near the year’s end, when inventory is taken on the past and minds meander this cacophony of joy screamed and hope longed for. How the season’s light is short and the night is long reflecting what is actually felt. No matter how hard I try to escape the burdens I carry:

• the silence of God is strongly felt
• the bearing of grief alone strongly felt
• the heaviness of heart strongly felt

And I wish everyone a Merry this or Happy that while tears threaten to fall with every step.

Though my burdens bear arduously, I am not alone. He calls me to cast my cares on Him, because His burden is light, this LORD of HESED.

A friend visited me the yesterday in my office. Friends are the right ratio of oxygen and nitrogen and other needed elements for our lungs and bodies in this polluted world. I hope you have friends like this. She reminded me to look to the God whose character is HESED. He knows, He carries, He hears, He sees, He feels,

He is

because He already walked my journey.

Years ago.

And now.

In the ever present past and future.

He lived this grief.

He died this sorrow.

He lives this healing.

Yet is was the will of LORD to crush him; he has put him to grief; when his soul makes an offering for guilt, he shall see his offspring; he shall prolong his days; the will of the LORD shall prosper his hand. Out of the anguish of his soul he shall see and be satisfied; by his knowledge shall the righteous one, my servant, make many to be accounted righteous, and he shall bear their iniquities.

Isaiah 53:10-11

Though my grief aches deeply, the God whose character is HESED quietly takes up my burdens. Nailed to the cross forever. And the Man of sorrows buried in a rich man’s cave breaths deep with blood flowing against gravity and belief. He walks to his friends and breaks bread with them defying physics and logic. This Messiah speaks softly yet echoes strongly through space and time returning complete, full, rich.

His breath brings life to this flower that fades.

His blood brings life to this sinner burdened with guilt.

His bread brings life to this woman broken.

His word brings life to me satiated with the LORD of HESED.

If you enjoyed this post, try this one. I discuss being A Good Girl.