I was in the very first pew. Front row seats. Her casket was to my
right. A blown up picture of her, taken before she died, right in front
of me. Tears were welling up in my eyes.
The tears weren’t tears of sadness. They were tears of delight…the
tears when you realize the absolute beauty of something so completely
spectacular.
My grandmother passed away less than a week before I landed on U.S.
soil. It was certainly less ‘bitter’ and more ‘sweet’. Mainly because
the Father assured me that her life was something to celebrate, and that
she was with Him in a glorified body. So, I couldn’t walk into the
funeral with much sadness. She lived life so simply and, yet, so
exquisitely. So, I walked in with a heart of thankfulness and
celebration.
It’s humbling to admit, I also walked in feeling like I had to
produce the ‘right’ response and emotions to every situation…because I’m
the ‘missionary’. I wrote in my journal the day of the funeral, “I
don’t know how to properly interact with people because I know that
their feelings and emotions are valid and legitimate…I just want to be
used. I also want Jesus to radiate off of me to my family…I don’t want
life to simply be my words…words from ‘the missionary’. I want a
revelation of the Love of Christ to hit all of us in an undeniable way. Glory reign!�
I have to laugh.
Assuming. It really does make an ass out of me.
I assumed that I held ‘celebration mode’ in my heart…and only I did. That, somehow, I was responsible for the Light to shine.
He shines how He wants. He shines when He wants. And He sure as heck
shines in a FAR GREATER way than I try to picture or assume.
You see, the Father of Light was so, so bright that day. It was
shining for prideful assumers like me. Because, you see, Christ in my
Grandma was the hope of glory that day! My grandma Louie was so in love
with Jesus that she planned her funeral to be a declaration of how
freakin’ awesome He is.
And I got to watch from that front row pew.
I watched as the Good News was simply and lovingly broadcasted.
The reality of Jesus’ words are hitting me in such a profound way right now: “Truly
I say to you, unless you turn and become like children, you will never
enter the kingdom of heaven. Whoever humbles himself like this child is
the greatest in the kingdom of heaven.�
A lover of hymns and Scripture, my grandmother outlined certain ones
to be sung and spoken at the funeral. And I sat in humility and the
weight of Jesus’ words about being childlike, when I heard my 8 year old
cousin sing the song my grandma picked—“Jesus Loves Me�—with sweet
confidence and assurance.
A child was used to lead this adult in the unified proclamation of the reality of the life as a child of God.
A life as one who is loved.
The Good News is that we have been affectionately and wonderfully
accepted into the Father’s family by way of the victorious reign over
death and evil through the Man Jesus Christ.
So I sat, in the very first pew…a front row seat. My grandmother’s
casket to my right. Her beautiful picture right in front of me. Tears
now streaming down my face. That new revelation of Christ’s Love I
asked for staring me in the face. And it surly hit me in such an
undeniable way: The love of God and the life as a child of God, is
simple and beautifully spectacular.
My spirit saw praise rise and tickle the ears of my Father from my
grandmother, who is now sitting with Him in heaven, and an 8 year old,
this side of heaven.
It was remarkable…
