Because She Believed - A Story of Faith and Hope
As the love and condolences poured in, so also did the words of encouragement, words meant to comfort us and give us peace regarding the questions of Why her? and Why so young? One common theme was, “We don’t know why these things happen, but we know God is in control. We have to have faith, even though we may never know why this happened.”
I was initially reluctant to share with others the full revelation of my two months of wrestling with God over Kristen. I knew my words would test the faith of most, and many would not be able to receive them. And others might even think the story of my struggle was imagined or made up.
As God’s Spirit led me, I began to share the wonderful gift He had shared with me. I shared the intimate insight into His heart regarding the loss of my child and the gentleness of His Spirit as He maintained a perfect balance between foreknowledge and grace.
Accepting things that we ourselves have never experienced is difficult for us as humans. Many of us have never ventured outside of the neatly crafted box of our religious traditions. Others have become jaded concerning the things of the Spirit after witnessing the disorder and chaos demonstrated by those who claim to be filled with the Spirit of God. These perspectives have led many to settle for a lukewarm faith that does not expect God to walk with us and talk with us day by day, minute by minute through His Spirit. As a result, numerous believers have rested in their knowledge of Christ but missed out on the power, purpose, and intimacy of His Spirit.
I am but a weak and frail vessel, which God has filled to overflowing with His mercy and grace. This testimony is not about me but about Christ in me. I am nothing without the Spirit of God who dwells within me—the Spirit He gave as a guarantee of my eternal destiny with Him. That is what the Apostle Paul meant when he said, “I will boast all the more gladly of my weaknesses, so that the power of Christ may rest upon me” (2 Corinthians 12:9b).
The following are a few examples of the responses I received when I shared God’s story: “I can’t receive that. I’m sorry, I just can’t go there”; “God is a God of love; I can’t believe He would make you go through that”; “I believe you believe it, but I’m not sure I can”; “Maybe you are trying to make sense of your grief. That’s understandable. It can be hard to accept the new reality after a loss”; “God has given you a gift that most will not be able to understand”; “The world will never understand, but God blessed you with a special gift of His reality in a very personal way.”
But the most moving response came from a friend following Kristen’s celebration service.
He said, “I learned today what it is like to talk to God. I was there to witness it, but it was not me. It makes me curious, scared, envious, and hungry at the same time. I can’t imagine, but I want to learn how….I saw a father speak at his daughter’s funeral. He spoke about having had conversations with God over the past few weeks/months about letting her go, but not knowing what that meant. After putting all of the conversations together, he realized that God was telling him to let her go not just in terms of freedom, but for good. The familiarity that he and his wife used when talking about their conversations with God was absolutely amazing to me. It would be nice to be that close.”
God had prepared me for the potential skepticism that would come. I knew that, in spite of any skeptics, I must testify of the grace He had poured out to me, the grace that transformed my view of the cross. Now I not only saw the sacrifice that Jesus made for us from His perspective, but I also saw His Father’s anguish as He sent His Son to die for our sin. I was reminded of the following words from Luke 19, when Jesus answered the religious leaders who wanted His disciples to stop declaring His glory. “He answered, I tell you, if these were silent, the very stones would cry out” (v.40). That is an apt description of the testimony of the grace that overflows my heart. I have to declare His glory. I have to testify of His grace. His love compels me.
Kristen’s mother and I are not hyper-spiritual robots, devoid of emotion or immune to the pain of the loss of the physical presence of our sweet girl. We are broken. We are battered. We long to walk with her again, holding hands as we stroll along our favorite mountain trail and take in the beauty of God’s glorious creation. We miss her touch, her smile, her laughter… We are saddened that we won’t hear her tell us about her students and express her excitement as she watches them growing in their gymnastic skills. We miss the passion with which she lived her life. We miss her fire. We miss her spirit! We miss her every hour of every day. But that all pales in comparison to the glory Kristen now knows in His presence. She is free from all sorrow and pain, free to walk with Him as an innocent child, her eyes filled with awe and wonder and her heart filled with His love and joy.
The beautiful part of being a child of God is that when we are weak, He is our strength. As I wrestled with God regarding Kristen’s future, I pleaded for Him to find another way to accomplish His work—a way that wouldn’t leave us scarred and broken. He reminded me of the following words from the Apostle Paul.
“Three times I pleaded with the Lord about this, that it should leave me. But he said to me, ‘My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness’” (2 Corinthians 12:8-9).
I think these words from Kristen’s best friend, Brooke, sum it up well. When people commented on how strong she had been during this trial, she said, “Well, I haven’t felt strong. I’ve felt so incredibly broken, but I have faith in a God who strengthens me.” These words express the beautiful balance between our struggles here on earth and God’s grace. God is actively working all things together for good, even the grief of losing a child or a best friend.
The peace we have experienced is not a warm and fuzzy feeling that comforts our emotional pain. It is the sweet, joy-filled conviction of God’s steadfast love for Kristen and for us. We celebrate her victory in Jesus and rejoice that she is dancing with Him in heavenly places. She has been released from the bonds of this fallen world… she is free!
This assurance is the fruit of our faith! For us, “to live is Christ and to die is gain” is not a construct of religious words we pull out to encourage us when we face trials. They are the conviction of our soul, the reality of our being. The Scriptures are the living, breathing Word of God. That Word became flesh and dwelt among us. The flesh is no longer here, but the Spirit of the Lord remains with us and reigns eternal. His Spirit bears witness with our spirit that we are His children.
So when people see us celebrating our Lord and His glory in the midst of our loss, what they are actually seeing is the overflow of His grace in our lives. That grace is not our own. It is a gift from God. His grace is the context in which we grieve.
I think back to the account of God spending time with Moses in chapters 33 and 34 of Exodus. Each time Moses was with God, he would return to the people with his face shining. It was the afterglow of God’s glory. Moses had asked God, “Please show me your glory.” God told Moses that he could not see His face. Moses would have been destroyed by the fullness of God’s presence, so Moses only had a passing glance of God’s glory.
That is how I feel in the presence of God’s Spirit—the Spirit He sent to comfort us, convict us, and teach us His truth. The afterglow of my time with God’s Spirit always gives a new and beautiful context to every trial that comes my way. I asked God to let me see His heart regarding sin and the loss of His Son, and He allowed me a passing glance. He permitted me only what was needed to transform my heart and my perspective regarding the cost of sin… from a father’s perspective.
I am not saying that grieving is bad or is somehow a sign of weakness. What I am saying is that for us, our grief has been overshadowed by the sweet touch of God’s Spirit. Grief is a reminder of the fragility of our life here on earth. It helps us see our need for God and His grace. Grief draws us into greater intimacy with our Lord, and that intimacy brings healing to our heart and comfort to our soul. Our sorrow is overcome by joy, our weeping is turned to laughter, our brokenness gives way to His beauty, our pain surrenders to His purpose, and the darkness yields to His Light.
That is what Paul meant in Philippians 3:8 when he said he counted all his human gains as loss compared to the surpassing worth of knowing Christ Jesus as Lord. I am not talking about a general knowledge of who Jesus is. I am speaking of an intimate relationship with Him through His Spirit that gives context to everything else.
Our current circumstance is not necessarily our destiny, but it may be the vehicle God has arranged to carry us to our next destination. We can have peace during the journey by setting our eyes on the goal. As our perspective shifts from our circumstances to His glory, the struggles of the journey are swallowed up in the joy of His presence and the prize that awaits us at journey’s end.
For most of us, discovering the intimacy of God is a process and not an event. The goodness of God leads us to repentance step by step. He is patient with us, not wishing any to perish. As a young man, alone and without a home, I enjoyed the fellowship of God. I did not know the gospel of Jesus, but I did know the touch of His Spirit. No one can come to Jesus unless the Father calls, and He called me. He called me through His goodness. He called me by His Spirit, and He called through those who were His children.
On one occasion while I was homeless, I was sitting on some crates beside a convenience store late one evening. As I sat there passing time, a young black man approached me. It was unusual for anyone to approach me on the street at night and even more so for it to be a young man of a different race. At that time in West Virginia in the area in which I lived, the neighborhoods were still mostly divided by race. He told me he had been picking up some diapers for his baby and asked if I needed a ride somewhere. I thanked him, explaining that someone was coming to pick me up.
He left and then returned a half hour later. It was almost 11:30 p.m. by then. He told me he had forgotten something and again asked if I needed a ride. Again, I said no.
He left but returned for a third time a little after midnight. As soon as he pulled up in his car, he stepped out and walked directly toward me. I would normally have perceived this as aggression. But in this case, I felt an unexplainable peace. He said, “I know you don’t have any place to go. So you will come home with me and stay with my family?” I felt the same peace then as I always did when God was moving in my life. I agreed and went to retrieve my duffle bag from behind the crates.
We drove to his apartment, which turned out to be about 200 yards from my high school. When we entered, his wife emerged from the kitchen with a big smile. “I’m warming some soup. Would a bowl of soup and a sandwich be okay with you?”
“That’s very kind but please don’t go to any trouble,” I answered.
Smiling broadly, they looked at each other in a way that made me feel that they had known I would come to their home. After I had finished eating, they made up the couch for me to sleep on. “We’re sorry we don’t have an extra bedroom. Our room is at the top of the stairs if you need anything. Our children and a sister from our church are in the other two bedrooms.” The young man then emptied his pockets and placed the items on the table next to the couch. “Goodnight,” he stated as he went upstairs.
All he knew about me was that I was a 6-foot, 2-inch homeless teen he had found outside a convenience store. Yet this relatively diminutive young father invited me into his home with his young wife and children. Then he left his keys and other belongings downstairs right beside me and went upstairs to sleep. Folks, that was faith. That was the Heavenly Father showing His intimate care for me through one of His children.
I knew I would only be able to stay a few days because I could not let myself depend on others. I had lost too much to risk being vulnerable, at least not yet. This event was only one of many such occasions when God touched me through the hands of His children. God was gently calling me to Himself, one step at a time.
I hope that my testimony regarding how God called me will shed some light on how we should approach the grace of God. As this young man and his family played a part in my journey to Jesus, you may play a part in another’s journey to Him. Don’t look at the Good News only as a single event but consider it as a journey. For some, the journey will be quicker than it is for others. Be sensitive to the Spirit and assist others on their journey as you testify of God’s grace in your life.
He wants all of us who have already believed in Him to be unencumbered by the concerns of this world and to embrace the fullness of our intimacy with Him. He wants us to be free of our anxieties regarding the thoughts and judgments of other people. We mustn’t have any doubts regarding His love, His power, and His purpose. For he who doubts is like a wave tossed by the wind.
God sent Jesus to be the light of the world. We are not to walk in darkness. We must embrace the intimacy of His Spirit if we are to walk in the fullness of His light.
“My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” (2 Corinthians 12:9).
“I can do all things through him who strengthens me.” (Philippians 4:13).
God’s promises of His grace and provision for us were our foundation as we stepped out in faith to move forward without the physical presence of our little girl.
There are still times when I think of her, and the thought literally takes my breath away. For that brief moment, the weight of her physical absence is too much to bear. Then my spirit remembers the gentle touch of God’s grace, and all is well. I just breathe!
