by Lonnette Harrell

Created on: December 17, 2008

Lately, I have been overwhelmed with the pain that so many people experience in their lives. I cannot seem to get away from it, and in a strange way I am drawn to their experiences, trying to see if there is a commonality between those of us who suffer. It seems that the ones who have faith inevitably go through a "faith crisis" when death, tragedy, illness, or unbearable pain arrives. I have heard that people can endure almost anything if they understand the reason for it-if it makes sense. But when it makes no sense, and no matter how we try to make the pieces fit, they won't-we're left with a feeling of betrayal.

Most of us amazingly survive anything short of the death of a loved one. Ah yes, that is the one that trips us up so badly. That is the one that we cannot resolve, or make better. That is the pain that rips our flesh, breaks our heart, and brings us to our knees. And yet ultimately, we survive that one also. But it changes us. We now know that life can deal a blow that completely knocks the breath out of us, and forever we are left gasping for air. We still react to pleasant things, but our smile is not quite as sincere at times, or our laughter as hearty. Death robs us of something deep within. Perhaps it is the innocence of believing in happy endings. Yes, that must be it.

The human spirit is very strong. But death is a thief that snatches the ones who are our history-a part of our story. Its icy cold fingers take away the "they lived happily ever after" part. (The story wasn't supposed to end this way.) Evil seems to have won, and we are left numb and shocked, full of questions, and accusations-even against God. The knife in our heart keeps twisting, and we struggle to awaken from the nightmare of reality.

Until death touches our lives in a close way, we still believe in happy endings. Death is the cruelest part of living-not necessarily for the dying, but for those left behind. We have no solution for it, we have no pain reliever for it (other than the very slow passage of time.) Applying time to death may lessen the intensity of the pain, but it never eradicates it. For there will always be the abandoned chair at the table, the empty side of the bed, and the silence of their absence. Time cannot erase these things, nor the vacant sadness in the survivors' eyes.

But in time, we drop our fist and run into God's arms, because without Him, how can we bear this unbearable misery? Only His arms are big enough to soothe a broken heart. Only His shoulders are wide enough to bear this burden of grief. Only in His embrace do we find even momentary peace, and renewed strength for the journey ahead. When we are exhausted, and completely weary, He will carry us.

For a Christian, this is the only way to deal with death, for He is truly our only comfort.

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