I saw the Holy City, the new Jerusalem, coming down out of heaven from God, prepared as a bride beautifully dressed for her husband.
Revelation 21:2
I have hither chosen not to publicly post much, or really anything at all, about my grieving process concerning the passing of my dad. I believe, for the most part, the reason is simply because I am a private person when it comes to grief, at least my personal grief. But another reason is the reality that I have not really been able to articulate how I truly feel about my dad's passing, either to those who are close to me like my very supportive wife, or to myself. Honestly, I have not really been able to articulate how I feel about my dad's passing to the Lord.
I can say that on July 24, 2010 - when I found out my dad had passed away the previous day - I felt peace and joy. No. I felt the everlasting and eternal peace and joy that can only be experienced by means of Jesus Christ, through the power of the Holy Spirit. I rejoiced over the thought that my dad was in the glory of the Lord. I had peace knowing I would see my dad again in heaven. I was comforted by my brothers in Christ, as I happened to be at a men's retreat when my sister-in-law called with the dreadful news. But, though I felt in my heart the joy of the Lord's salvation, I could not process in my mind, let alone with words, how I felt about the reality that I would never be able to have a conversation with my dad on this earth again. Or that my dad would never meet my children, at least not here on earth. Or that my dad would not see Audrey's first movie, read my first published book, or experience many of the things I know he wanted to experience. Even as I type these words, I can feel the sea of sorrow welling behind my eyes and the lump of affliction expanding in the back of my throat.
Of course, death is not convenient. It never comes at the "right" or a "good" time. But one thing I have had difficulty accepting is knowing my dad had always wanted to visit Israel. After all, Israel is our name. I heard this for the first time in May of this year when Audrey told my dad she booked a job that would possibly take her to Israel. My dad was always excited for Audrey and her industry "wins." He told us plainly that he had always wanted to go and that he was very proud of Audrey and our opportunity to visit Israel, specifically Jerusalem. Audrey and I talked and were secretly planning to get my dad out to Israel to be with us for a while so he could experience the Holy Land, and fulfill something he had always wanted to do. Unfortunately, he passed away a little over a month later, which was a little over a month before we traveled to Israel.
After the crashing waves of dealing with burying my dad, and everything that comes with it, had subsided a bit, I was able to start my own grieving process. Part of this process included talking to God about my disappointment in His decision to call my dad home at this time. Now. Just before we were about to take him to Israel. Why now?
After a week in Amsterdam, Audrey and I visited Israel. While sitting on the beach in Tel Aviv, I spoke to God, "Lord, I wish my dad could be here, experiencing Israel with us. Please give my dad the message that Audrey and I are having a beautiful time, I wish he could be here with us, and I am very proud to bear his name, 'Israel', the name you gave to your chosen people." Not two seconds after I finished uttering that prayer did I feel the Lord say to me, "Why are you saddened because your dad never went to Israel? You dad is in the NEW Israel, rejoicing in the NEW Jerusalem where there is no fighting, no pain, no tension, and no tears."
Not only is my dad a new Israel because he has left his earthly body and taken on his heavenly one, but he is in the new Israel that the Lord has prepared for those who love Him. This is the hope and assurance we have as believers, and it is the hope and assurance that has gotten me through the grieving process.
Don't be misled into thinking I am finished grieving. I am not sure grieving ever truly ends. But though grieving may not end, it does not have to defeat us. And the Lord's words to me on the beach in Tel Aviv assured me that just as death did not defeat my dad, neither has grief defeated me.
