Seventeen years ago, on the Saturday before Easter, my family buried my brother Paul. He was 33 years old and was killed in a car accident while driving from Washington to Kansas.
That period of time is a bit of a blur to me, a mixture of sadness and confusion and anger. I was 15.
The reason Paul was driving from Washington to Kansas is that he had actually decided to move back home for awhile, to straighten some things out. Because of the age difference and the fact that he lived so far away, I never really got to know Paul that well. I couldn't wait for him to come back. But he never made it.
It was Good Friday when we were able to see Paul's body at the funeral home in Liberal. What can I say about it? It was just so sad.
That evening at about 10, with our house filled with uncles, aunts and cousins, my mom said she had to go back to the funeral home. She couldn't bear the thought of burying him the next day and just needed to go sit with him.
As she sat there, mourning the loss of her son, not able to let go, the Lord reminded her what day it was. It was Good Friday. And that on that day so many years ago, the body of Jesus was just as dead as my brother Paul. But that on Sunday, He rose from the dead, conquering death. And because of that, she would see Paul again one day.
She was able to go home and sleep that night and the next day, she was able to bury her son.
On Easter Sunday, my entire extended family went to church. It was a beautiful spring day. When our pastor got up to deliver the sermon, he welcomed our family and said something along the lines of how he was impressed that we had all managed to make it to church after the funeral the day before.
My brother Danny leaned over to my mom and whispered, "Where else would we be?"
Engraved in my brother's tombstone is the verse I Thess 4:16:
"For the Lord himself will descend from heaven with a cry of command, with the voice of an archangel, and with the sound of the trumpet of God. And the dead in Christ will rise first."
I am thankful for Jesus and I'm thankful for the cross. I'm thankful that for those in Christ, death isn't goodbye forever.
I'm 33 now, the age Paul was when he died. It is amazing how quickly time passes by. I didn't get to know my brother that well here on Earth. I'm really looking forward to getting to know him in Heaven.
No comments:
Post a Comment