Tear-soaked kleenexes littering both the front and back yards of our high school/college pastor's house. Long, silent hugs. Heads buried in laps, sobbing. Screams of agony. Red, swollen eyes staring into the distance at nothing. Silence, from disbelief. Silence, from not knowing what to say. Silence, from refusing to accept. Silence, from realizing there's no other choice.
I can't count the times today that I've told God no. No, no, no. This is not the plan. It can't be the plan. We didn't sign up for this, and we don't want this, and how could you do this to us? Take it back. When we said we would follow you, we didn't know you would lead us to this. Surely there was another way. Can't you see that this is breaking us in a billion ways? Our hearts are ripped out, and this is a mess. You say you are good, but this does not feel like it's good.
In the early evening, Mark and I received desperate calls to come to our high school/college pastor's house. One of our college students had been in a fatal motorcycle accident. As we rushed over, all I could think was, This is not happening.
We are feeling and seeing so much pain. Confusion. Grief. Feeling lost. So so so lost. Why is this happening to the community that is so precious to me? This can't be the plan. Aren't you supposed to protect us, Jesus?
We sat in front of a campfire and shared memories and prayed and poured out our hearts in worship to Jesus. But I was conflicted. My head said I should worship because Jesus is good beyond any circumstance but my heart said NO I will not accept this cup.
Which is exactly why I made myself worship anyway.
Today I learned that what glorifies God the most is not necessarily what brings the least pain. This doesn't make sense to us while we are in the pain. But it's because the glory isn't about me. The glory wasn't about Josh. The glory is about Jesus.
Before Jesus died on the cross, he broke bread with his closest friends and gave thanks. He knew what was coming. He felt the weight of the upcoming betrayal, the promise of the excruciating pain he would endure as he took on our depravity, the dread of his father turning his face away. Yet Jesus gave thanks. He didn't want the cup, but he took it anyway.
So we take this one.
I felt and saw a lot of awful things today, and will for days to come. But I also saw some glimpses of good. A community of broken people coming together. An open home and food provided. Praises lifted to a God we know to be sovereign even when his plan doesn't make sense to us.
My heart is broken and we are still reeling in pain. But I am thankful. For my loved ones. For our incredible church community. For the opportunity to have known and loved such a humble, selfless man after God's own heart. For a God who embraces me when all I can do is scream in pain at him.
I am able to be thankful because Jesus was thankful before me.
In this pain, I give thanks. In this confusion, I cling to our heavenly promise. In this darkness, I give praise to the one who will conquer it.
It's what Josh would have done, too.
