God's Faithfulness in the Final Days

God’s Faithfulness in the Final Days

“The Lord is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit.” — Psalm 34:18

      There are moments in life you never forget. For me, the last days of Tif's life are etched into my soul. They were holy and heartbreaking, peaceful and painful, full of love yet lined with the reality that she was slipping from my hands and into the Father’s arms.  I am currently reliving those days as I quickly approach the one year anniversary of her homecoming.  I remember sitting in hospital rooms.  I vividly remember sounds, smells, and most of all I remember sitting with my wife as she prepared for her final lap.  I was so sad, my heart shattered as if someone had taken a hammer to it.  But my love for Tif never once diminished.  She was the bravest, most courageous woman.  She was also the most faithful.  She transitioned her battle from cancer to facing death, and together, hand in hand, prepared to say what would be our final goodbye on planet earth.

      In those days, I learned something I had preached, sung about, and believed—but had never had to cling to with both hands: God is faithful even when life is falling apart. His grace shows up in quiet ways, in ways you don’t always recognize until later. But it shows up.  This was one of the hardest lessons that I have ever learned as a believer.  It was so difficult to look into the brown eyes of the woman that I loved, served, and cared for knowing that soon, and very soon, that she wasn't going to be mine to care for any longer.  That soon she would hear the words, well done good and faithful servant.  Here are a few lessons that I learned during the last week of her life.

      My first lesson was that His faithfulness was not the absence of pain—it was His presence inside it.  In the hospital room, I wanted God to change everything.  I begged for Him to do the Noah sized miracle that we pleaded for.  I cried, I quoted promise after promise in the Word.  I knew He could, and I felt like He should, but instead God was doing something different. He didn’t stop the inevitable, but I found Him in the things I didn’t even know to pray.

      I found it in the peace on her face.  At about five in the morning Tif knew she was going to die.  She was too weak to talk, but she could text.  We texted all morning.  I was so scared.  I faced the stark reality that this was my last few moments with the woman that I planned to spend decades with.  She was too weak to push the morphine button, so I had to press it to keep her comfortable.  But I never once saw fear in her eyes.  She resigned herself to heading home to heaven.  She knew there wouldn't be another sunrise, that she wasn't going to see our babies grow up, that there wouldn't be another kiss.  Her face though was like a painting that didn't indicate a storm, but a peaceful scene.

      I saw it in the Scriptures that suddenly felt more alive than ever.  As she prepared to die the Scriptures came to life.  It's almost as if they started to jump off the page.  I had spend two decades hiding God's Word in my heart and the heartache of loss caused me to dig deep to mine out those precious treasures.

      I found it in the strength to keep standing when my legs felt weak.  I cannot rightly express to you how weak I felt in those moments.  As a man there was nothing I could do for her.  I would take a walk to cry each day.  I sat in a windowsill looking outside with tears in my eyes.  I knew the exact amount of steps that it took to walk the flood that she was on.  On the outside I looked strong but I was a fortress that eroded and was broken.  I wasn't standing, I was being held.  God gave me the strength to sit beside her for her final breath, the strength to tell my three precious little ones that their momma was in heaven, and strength pick out a casket.  In my deepest weakness God gave me strength, and still does.  God’s faithfulness didn’t erase the storm—it anchored me within it.

      God granted me with a special grace during that final week, a grace that thankfully I don't need any longer, and a I grace that I hope that none of you ever have to ask for. His grace carried me when I couldn’t carry myself.  There were moments when I couldn’t pray more than a whisper, for that matter there were many moments when I didn't have a single word left to pray. Moments when I felt numb, broken, or angry. Moments where grief hit like a wave and I wondered how I was supposed to breathe. But grace met me there.

      Grace that let me cry without shame.  I never once felt shame for the tears that God welcomed as worship and captured in His bottle.

      Grace reminded me death is not the end for those in Christ.  At 8:20 that morning Tif was more alive then I was because she was standing in the presence of Jesus.  This same grace reminded me that one day I will see my wife again and the death is the final barrier that falls down before we see Jesus face to face.

      Grace that whispered, “You are not alone.”  I need this reminder to this day.  Life without a spouse is terribly lonely.  It's a loneliness that only Christ can fill.  There is a hollowness that you experience waking up with no one beside you.  One year later I have found that life has changed in many ways, but the one thing that remains the same is the emptiness in the night hours.

      God granted me with a grace that helped me say goodbye with love and dignity.  A grace that let me know that God wasn't done with me yet.

      Another lesson was learning that God was so faithful to her....but also faithful to me.  I didn't just grieve a person, I grieved a lost purpose, burying dreams....but I also grieved myself.  As much as I grieved losing her, I was reminded of something deeper: God loved her even more than I did.  For that matter He loved her more then I ever could.  He sent His Son Jesus to die on the cross for her.  Never in a million lifetimes could I love her that much, but I did mirror the love of Christ onto her through our entire marriage.  When Tif passed away she stepped out of suffering and into glory. And while my heart shattered, hers was healed.  My breathing became ccomplicated because of anxiety and fear, but for the first time in nearly a year she was able to breath freely.  His faithfulness toward her gave me hope. His faithfulness toward me gave me strength.  And His faithfulness toward both of us gave me peace.

      Grief doesn’t end at the funeral. Grief doesn't have an expiration date. But I also learned another powerful lesson, God’s faithfulness doesn’t expire either.  There were mornings I didn’t think I could get out of bed—yet He lifted me.  There were times when anxiety attacked my heart at night, so much so that panic and anxiety attacks became the norm, but I found myself sleeping peacefully as time went on.  There were decisions I didn’t know how to make—yet He guided me.  There are still big decisions that I have to make but He continues to be faithful in providing me with just enough faith to take one step at a time.  There were days when loneliness echoed—yet He filled the silence with His nearness.  Looking back, I see that every step I took was held, supported, and surrounded by grace.

      If you’re reading this and you’re walking through the final days of someone you love—or the days after—hear this: God sees you.  God hears you.  God is faithful even here.  You don’t have to be strong every moment.  He still loves you when you fall apart and doubt.  You don’t have to have the right words or any words at all.  You don’t have to pretend you’re okay.  God wants you to be honest.  The God who walked with me in my darkest days is the same God walking with you right now.  He is nearer than your breath.  He is kinder than you expect.  He is stronger than what is breaking you.  And His faithfulness does not falter—not in the sickness, not in the goodbye, not in the grief that follows, not in the healing which is to come.