A Worship & Blessing Birthed From Pain

It was Sunday. 

I was standing there in the church where we had had our son’s funeral just two and a half short years ago. 

It was my grand boy’s baptism day. 

The pastor took the pulpit and announced his baptism and how happy and proud his Daddy would be. 

(A lump formed in my throat.)

After his remarks, there was a moment of silence for my deceased son. There was such a deep silence that I felt I might not be able to stay quiet much longer. It was deafening. 

(Tears. Sadness. Longing.)

It felt good to hear someone say my child’s name. That doesn’t happen near as much as I’d like it to. I like to hear people talk about him. To remember him. Somehow, it keeps his life alive and brings me some comfort. 

The other day, I received a picture from someone who was going through old boxes. When I opened the message, my heart felt like it stopped and for a moment it was hard to breathe, but it quickly subsided and I smiled and remembered my sweet boy who was always smiling and laughing. 

Death is awkward. People don’t always know how to help those who are grieving. Often, more hurt is piled on top of the loss because well-intentioned people don’t quite know how to comfort, encourage or relate. It’s not their fault, they’re doing the best they know to do. After all, we’re never properly prepared for it. There aren’t very many classes out there about it, nor people who are comfortable talking about loss and grief. Most people cannot even begin to comprehend unless they too have experienced this type of loss. 

I like to hear the stories, see the pictures, and talk about my son. Sure, I may cry. I miss him immensely each and every day. That will never change. 

After the moment of silence, the praise team began to sing a song, continuing on with the service. I couldn’t believe my ears...it was one of the songs which had been sung at Steffan’s funeral. What in the world was going on!?

I didn’t know whether to  get up and run out of the sanctuary and escape the rampant range of emotions I was experiencing or exactly what to do with myself. Then, I looked around and noticed I wasn’t the only one struggling. There were other family members with tears streaming down their faces as well. 

I reached over and took the hand of my husband. I needed the extra strength in the moment. I knew he was struggling too. I bravely, but reluctantly, began to sing. My voice was shaky and I was having a difficult time staying on key.  However, I slowly raised my hands In surrender and began to sing, 

“Jesus, I love you, because you care. I couldn’t imagine if you weren’t there...”

I worshipped and sang when I could get it out, when I couldn’t, I just wept. The range of emotions I dealt with during that song was exhausting. I was grateful to the Lord for His faithfulness, love and keeping power. God only knows where I’d be without Him. On the other end of the spectrum, I remembered. I was transported back and relived everything from the very beginning of the ending of Steffan’s life here with us.  I hurt, my heart ached...and I didn’t run away. I stood there and faced all the trauma and grief that comes with our type of loss. It was gently wrapped up in a sacrifice of worship and thanksgiving. 

Later, during the service, the pastor came back to my husband and I and was concerned that it had all been too much. He didn’t intend to bring up the pain, memories and emotions. We stood there and courageously assured him all was well. I even mumbled that it had been the perfect will of God. I wasn’t sure where that had come from. The words just came out of my mouth like a proclamation. 

My grand boy got baptized and came up out of the water with an almost angelic smile proclaiming that he was so happy. You see, he knows he must go to Heaven to see his dad again. It was a beautiful occasion and I was blessed to be in that service, on that particular day, to experience what I haven’t felt in two and a half years. 

Somehow, in His own divine way, God baptized me with what I’ve not yet been able to verbalize. I walked out of there with my head held high, my shoulders squared; ready to go on. 

“And she said to them, Call me not Naomi, call me Mara: for the Almighty has dealt very bitterly with me.” Ruth 1:20

You see, I’ve related to Naomi for quite some time during this season of grief. I couldn’t quite find the place I needed to reach although I struggled daily to get there. Depression has overwhelmed me at times. I think Naomi experienced this too. She was a mom too. (Maybe that was the difference between her and Job. Just a thought that came to me.) She knew about loss and loneliness. She had come by home feeling empty and sorrowful. She had even tried to get Ruth to stay behind! Sometimes we do that to the people in our lives because we don’t know how to relate or communicate what we’re living out. That part of the story is so understandable. I get it now. 

But that’s not the end of her story.  Nor mine! God brought comfort and blessing back into her life which consumed some of the sadness and grief. I’m sure she probably still had moments of sadness, but more than that, she again had hope for what was to come during the rest of her days. 

During what seemed a strangely coincidental sequence in a church service, was God bringing about a change. During that “funeral” song, God wrapped up all my broken pieces and soothed my soul. He is without a doubt the way, the truth and the life. Yes, I will probably be sad and shed tears again, but I have a new-found hope in my future because I’ve been safely sheltered in the arms of God and I have hope for the rest of my days. It’s an amazing feeling to come into the light and want to live again. To have purpose and a cause to continue on. 

I’m so glad I didn’t run away, I can’t imagine missing what I gained worshipping through that song during that particular service. To me, it kind of felt like a birth - kind of like the birth of Obed, which brought Naomi around again.  She, and I, recognized the Restorer at work in our lives and the added blessings poured out during our pain. She had been blessed right where she stood. 

And so had I! 

If you’re struggling with life issues today, know that you’re not alone. Be encouraged and reach up in worship to God no matter how awkward or useless it may seem. He is a Restorer and He will wrap you up too. He is your way, truth and life. There is a blessing just waiting to be birthed from the pain we experience. I didn’t realize it in the moment. It took several days before I realized God had taken my broken worship to Him and blessed it in an amazing way. You might not identify it immediately either, but keep worshiping anyhow and blessing will come. Don’t let the pain dampen your worship. He can use our brokenness and pain as catalysts for blessing.  

Hold on! The birthing process takes time and patience...and a commitment to see it through. 

Be blessed ~