I will always remember how sick I felt the first time someone suggested that through Jacob’s death I would gain. Gain what? This person probably meant I’d gain valuable things like insight, compassion, wisdom, etc. But benefiting in any way from Jacob’s death seemed appalling to me.
From the moment I learned Jacob’s accident had left him dead and his friend hanging on to life, I knew I had a choice as to how I would live my life going forward. I kept saying to myself and others, “I don’t want Jacob’s death to be in vain.” However, by refusing to let myself “gain” and be transformed through Jacob’s death, I was the one who was guilty of allowing his death to be in vain. My initial stubborn refusal to let beauty arise from ashes for me personally was also in some way disregarding the victorious and miraculous battle Jacob’s friend was fighting to stay alive and rehabilitate.
Then, it was almost as though I could hear Jacob’s voice saying, “Mom, if you don’t allow my death and Matt’s brave struggle to bring forth positive attitudes and changes in yourself, then my death as well as Matt’s hard work HAVE been in vain.” They were not only going to be in vain, but they were going to be the breeding ground of destruction and pain in my life and the lives with which I came in contact. How could I possibly do that to my son? How could I do that to his friend?
Knowing that my greatest comfort came as I read Scripture and prayed, I began to press into my relationship with God. I leaned on Him more than any other time in my life. He “spoke” to my spirit, especially when I felt fearful about Jacob’s final moments and his experience of entering Heaven. Jacob’s eternal life in Heaven was not in question, but whether or not he was lonely or frightened during those moments of transition from his earthly body nagged at my heart and mind. During those times, I could sense God reminding me, “I was with him, and he is here with Me now.”
God gave me a vision ten days after the accident. In this vision that played out like a movie before me, the accident had just taken place, and I was suspended above and slightly behind Jacob’s car. He was in the vehicle, but I did not see his friend who was riding with him. While it was dark and raining, the scene was very clear. A large, black hand wrapped its fingers around Jacob’s torso and pulled him out of the car. Jacob was unconscious and slumped forward, so he didn’t struggle or show any fear. A deep voice that I knew was connected to the black hand could be heard saying, “I’m going to tear this family apart!” At that moment, I saw a figure come from the right, and I instantly “knew” who it was. Jesus gently took Jacob’s right arm with both hands and calmly but firmly stated, “Let him go! This one is Mine!” The hand released Jacob immediately. Jacob’s head lifted as though he was now alert, but still somewhat groggy. He said nothing. Jesus then left with Jacob. Four months later, when we visited the accident site for the first time, the location matched my vision, even the positioning of the vehicle was the same.
During those first months, my nearness to God was unlike anything I had ever known before. Rather than consciously offering up a prayer now and then throughout the day, it was as if I was in a constant dialogue with God. I think that’s the connection God intended us to have with Him. Ever so slowly, that has slipped away. There is more silence on my part and His, but I think that’s because I’ve allowed the distractions of this world back into my life.
The spiritual experience of God’s nearness was like “scales falling from my eyes.” I was seeing things as I had never seen them before. Even when I closed my eyes, vivid colors would swirl around. Things I had never noticed before caught my attention. My hearing was altered. Usually, I have difficulty deciphering competing sounds, so I’m horrible at conversing with people in a group setting where multiple people are speaking. Concerts are usually very frustrating for me to attend if people around me are talking. Less than two weeks after Jacob’s accident Michael and I attended a Jars of Clay concert. To my amazement, despite some less than ideal acoustics, I could clearly hear the lyrics being sung. It felt like God was opening my ears to hear because the words ministered deeply to my soul.
I also heard things I never heard before. On more than one occasion, I heard Jacob’s voice. One time I heard, “Hey, Mom!” which is the way he would frequently greet me. This all may sound terribly strange or even scary, but I never felt more alive and “in tune” than ever before. Nearly a year after Jacob’s death, I literally heard a male voice while my husband was out running and my daughter was sleeping. This voice calmly but firmly declared, “Put them together.” That made no sense, but I quickly shared what I heard with friends and family anyway. By that afternoon, the phrase made perfect sense because of the way the day’s events miraculously unfolded. Many of us were in awe that a seemingly meaningless group of words suddenly had full meaning.
The nearness of God was so intense that the account in Scripture of Moses going up on Mount Sinai and standing in the presence of God came to mind a number of times. When Moses returned to the people below, he had to veil his face because he was so radiant as a result of the close encounter with God. Each time Moses entered the Lord’s presence and then spoke to the people, he was radiant from having been in the presence of the Lord. In the weeks and months following Jacob’s death, there were several occasions when people, even complete strangers, told me that I was “glowing.” One time, two men working at a desk in an office building in Atlanta jumped when they saw me walk in. I wondered why they had such a reaction. The first one said, “This may sound strange, but you are glowing! I mean, you are really glowing!” The other guy said with his eyes wide open, “It’s true! You are!” If they only knew I had lost my son months earlier. The only explanation for this glowing was nearness of God. His intimate presence brought forth a radiance that could ONLY come from Him.
God is always near, even when we don’t believe He exists. When we are grieving, He draws nearer still. If we invite Him in with hungry hearts, He is like skin on skin. It will be known, not only to us, but to those around us. Ask God to draw near to you. He will. And your face will show the evidence, even in your most desperate hour.
Submit yourselves, then, to God. Resist the devil, and he will flee from you. Come near to God and he will come near to you. Wash your hands, you sinners, and purify your hearts, you double-minded. Grieve, mourn and wail. Change your laughter to mourning and your joy to gloom. Humble yourselves before the Lord, and he will lift you up. ~ James 4:7-10
Journey Of Grief ~ Journey Of Grace 