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And thine ears shall hear a word behind thee, saying, This is the way, walk ye in it.
Isaiah 30:21
January 16th is a somber day for me and my family, as we remember and celebrate a precious husband and father, and we mourn his absence. You all would have loved John Jeffrey had you known him. He was a bubbly joyful loud worshiper, who loved to play the guitar and sing praise music to the Savior he loves. Last year, my girls had bought roses to take to the cemetery, but I had coped by focusing on every day routine, and ignoring the emptiness I felt that Sunday morning. I hadn’t told anyone at my church about the significance of this day, or about my unusual story.
I was widowed for the third time before my fiftieth birthday.
It was communion Sunday, which was inconvenient, because you can’t be a pretender and take communion. So after receiving the broken body and blood of our Savior, I knelt at the front for some moments of private confession. There were no spoken words, and no tears. I just needed to be honest before God.
“I am a miserable saint. Forgive me Lord—I can hardly express my gratitude for your agony and death. I am focused on myself, and I am so sorry. I do thank you for your great gift to me. But I must tell you, Jesus, I am overcome in my loneliness. My children are grown, and finding a life of their own, and I feel very old, preparing for a stoic march into deteriorating health, becoming a nuisance to my family, and waiting for death in your timing to come home. I am so dull of hearing, God. If only you could speak to me! I know it’s going to get better, and I do trust You. You’ve got to help me out of this black hole.”
I returned to my seat and bowed my head while others received communion. Pastor Carroll returned to the platform to resume the service, but he paused. “I believe I have a word from the Lord,” he said, “for the young [yes he used the word young] lady in blue who was kneeling here during communion, but I don’t see her.”
I felt the power of the Holy Spirit surge in my body as I was lifted to my feet. “Yes, it’s you, Linda.” He said. “I believe the Lord is saying to you that your best days are ahead of you. The enemy has come against you to defeat you, but the Lord is saying to you that your future is bright.” Pastor Carroll repeated, “Your best days are ahead, so look up and look to what God has for you.”
I raised my hand, speechless in the presence of almighty God. He had answered my prayer and spoken to me audibly, and my emptiness was suddenly flooded with His compassion and mercy. Would He single me out for such a lavish expression of His love? Yes, He would! It was unmistakable. My small-group family rushed me with a hug, as they sensed the miracle of that moment, too.
That divine encounter was a little over one year ago. God opened my eyes to see that I was believing a lie from the enemy, and letting fear cloud my vision of the pure goodness of God and His plans for me, my children, and my grandchildren.
I began to pray about this future God spoke to Pastor Carroll about, and His calling and direction became clear. When you don’t think you have a future, you don’t seek God for one.
I gathered together a decade of writing on grief, and by June 1st, I had written a workbook for small groups called “The Grief Experience: Receiving God’s Healing beyond Grief and Loss.” I taught the class in the fall at our church, and began a blog to retell my story and reach people who are mourning without hope.
In December, I submitted a second book for publication called “Comfort and Joy,” a collection of essays on what God has done for me through mourning. From that awful black hole just a year ago when I knelt before the Savior in complete despair, I faced the following anniversary in faith with the prayer of David, “You have turned for me my mourning into dancing; you have loosed my sackcloth and clothed me with gladness!" (Psalm 30:11).
The road through grief is rocky and exhausting. If you are walking there, join me at my blog, The Grief Experience.
~Linda Jeffrey~
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This is Sandy again...please, everyone, go flood Linda with support at her blog. I am closing my comments today so you can go lavish some love on her there.
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