Yesterday and today we were blessed to share, in a small way, the suffering of a family we love. Mourning the loss of another young father near to us (or to others we love) has left us both frustrated and confused. With a deep sense of indignance and pain, we both want to exclaim "This is not right!"

Sons should not grow to be men without their fathers. This is just not right! We are groomed to be able to say "It is well with my soul," but I am not there, and hope I will never be. Witnessing teen-age boys bury their father will never be well with my soul. Death is not well with my soul because death is not God's design for his children.

I believe that instead of calling ourselves to some sort of placidity in the face of death, such a cutting experience with the result of the fall should cause us to labor more furiously toward the redemption of all things, including the souls of our fellow men.

As Andrew and I were processing our pain, guilt, and inner-chaos, I remembered this piece of writing from another tumultuous time in my life. Perhaps it's not as theologically developed as my thoughts are now, but it expresses many of the same emotions...

So where is it? Where is life when all around you there is death? Where is happiness when you are surrounded by grief? And where is love when hearts are too broken to feel? It's not a question of if, it's a question of where.

Life is in death as a life has to be lived to be ended. Death is the end of earth, and every end has a beginning. So in death, may we rejoice in the sheer humanity of the one gone and in the faithfulness of the creator. No life is perfect and no death is pure blessing. May we remember the moments of grace given and the moments of grace needed. And may we continue to live, lest we be overcome by death.


Happiness is an illusion easily emptied by sorrow. Perhaps it is not happiness we should be searching for, but joy. For joy is deeper than happiness. Joy exists alongside grief and sorrow. The beauty of joy is that happiness is not required. So when we cannot even see the illusion of happiness, may we turn our backs and search for genuine joy. Once we have found joy, grief becomes second best of the eternal emotions. And in our grief, it is that very joy which becomes the foundation on which we build our hope.


When hearts are shattered, bruised or deflated, love is nearly invisible. Love is nearly impossible. Therefore, love cannot live in hearts, it must live in souls for hearts break and hardly remain constant. When love has been lost among the pieces of a broken heart, we learn to store that love in our souls. And when hearts are too tired or too hard to feel, it is the soul that comes along to renew what was once whole, open and alive.


Even though there is death, and there is sorrow and there are broken hearts, there is life and joy and love. And there is heaven.


All shall be well.
All is well.
Blessed be the name of the LORD.