Good Friday commemorates Jesus’ death on the cross. God initiated and executed the plan for Jesus to die on the cross to pay the price for our sins. “For the wages of sin is death” (Romans 6:23a). After Adam disobeyed God’s command and ate from the forbidden tree, God told him, “…for dust you are and to dust you will return” (Genesis 3:19c). Adam and Eve’s disobedience affected not only all of mankind, but also all of creation. Thus we all live in a fallen world. The depravity of mankind and our sin have grave consequences. My story of death is only one of many consequences of sin.
The first death in my immediate family was my infant sister. I was just a toddler, so I have no memories or emotions associated with it. Over two decades later, my father called in the darkness of the night to inform me that my younger brother had died tragically in a small plane crash. I was an ICU nurse, and it was significant to me that there was not an ounce of hope for resuscitation. His closed casket made it harder to accept his death. As we celebrated Christmas the following day, I felt like a rug was pulled out from under me and I was left gasping for air.
Two decades later, my husband died suddenly—another profound loss for me, with five children at home.
It was surreal. My children and I were waiting for my husband’s return from a conference. My daughter wanted our “Welcome Home” sign placed outside for him. As I was tending the church’s flower bed in preparation for our son’s confirmation two days later, I looked to the east and visualized my husband’s car coming down the highway in just a few hours. I thought I knew what my evening would entail. I returned home and worked on our lawn, until I saw police walking up the street. Since our front yard has been a site for car accidents, I wondered what was happening. Did they need to use our house phone? Upon hearing their message, any hope or thought for survival was once again stripped away.
Shock, denial, and contrasting emotions are natural. The next morning I went to the garage to see if his car had returned during the night. I would have been happy to buy roses for my husband, but the thought of buying casket roses was repulsive. The reality of it was too great. And yet, I was aware of feeling too good at the funeral. People were surprised to see us greeting them at the door and to see my children helping others with umbrellas in the rain. I was numb, yet laughed with friends, and wondered why I did not cry at times. Putting my husband in the ground was dreadful. In my heart, I was still waiting for his arrival home. In contrast, I went back to the church and saw people laughing.
Adrenaline is God’s anesthesia to help grievers cope. I had never experienced it before to this degree and knew that it would not remain. I told friends to be there to pick me up. At two weeks it was obvious when the adrenaline wore off and the deep grief began. This was also when I realized, “Oh, I suppose this makes me a widow.” Confusion is also common, and I experienced it for some time. I had many decisions to make, but my thinking was skewed. My head told me something was wrong; however, my heart felt the opposite. I questioned the purpose of my own life, and even my perception of life seemed to shorten. Living in the moment was all I could think about. For a time, hope, joy, or the future were too hard to imagine.
As Jesus dropped to his knees and onto his face in the Garden of Gethsemane, I did likewise. In my physical weakness and brokenness, I cried out, “Lord, have mercy on me!” I now had to deal with another death, the death of my will—just as Jesus prayed to the Father, “Not as I will, but as you will” (Matthew 26:39). In my brokenness, God gave me the gift of his presence, lifting me higher than my circumstances and into a closeness with him. Long, dark nights brought spiritual warfare. I found myself often quoting, “So do not fear, for I am with you…” (Isaiah 41:10) and commanding Satan to be gone in Jesus’ name. As time passed, God in his mercy counseled me in the night (Psalm 16:7) numerous times, providing assurance and direction.
My turning point came through a song that I listened to repeatedly. I never wanted to forget the words: “At the cross, I’ll find the way to live the life your hand has made… So find me there, Lord, and help me stay, in true surrender with you, my Savior.”1 Shortly after this, while studying Daniel, I envisioned being lifted out of the pit of grief with light beginning to shine on the top of my head. Though still in the pit, my feet were no longer on the bottom. I was slowly moving upward. This was great news of hope!
Psalm 77 became meaningful to me as “I cried out to God for help… When I was in distress, I sought the Lord; at night I stretched out untiring hands” (Psalm 77:1-2). A missionary who tragically lost his brother showed me psalms where David cried out to God. But he remarked how there is a turning point in each. For example, “To this I will appeal: the years when the Most High stretched out his right hand. I will remember the deeds of the Lord …your miracles of long ago. I will consider all your works and meditate on all your mighty deeds” (Psalm 77:10-12, emphasis added). This affirmed my faith and gave me direction.
Death is painful and humbling. The cost is so high for us to be reconciled with God. As humans, we are incapable of paying the price or even adding anything to it. “For the wages of sin is death, but the gift of God is eternal life in Christ Jesus our Lord” (Romans 6:23). Through the gift of his Son, believers have victory over sin, death, and the grave—so we can endure the pains of death. “But thanks be to God! He gives us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ (1 Corinthians 15:57). We wait in hope for Jesus’ second coming and for a glorious resurrection!
Naomi Evans is a member of Inspiration Lutheran Brethren Church in Breckenridge, Minnesota. She is a student at Lutheran Brethren Seminary.