Faithful Paradox

I am learning that looking for good in the midst of loss is a discipline in humility. It comes with a willingness to see the good work God is up to, even as the pain remains. He has promised that “all things work together for good for those who are called according to his purpose” (Romans 8:28). God’s faithfulness to his promises is not dependent on my willingness to see it. The good is there, regardless if I am willing to embrace it or not. When the pain is so real and still so present, however, searching for the good can feel difficult, maybe even impossible in some seasons. I find that I must humble my heart and receive the good that God has for me, even as hurt and confusion remain.

There is tension in searching for good after loss because it feels like I am saying, “It’s good that it happened.” The difficulty comes in that my heart still feels deeply disappointed that God allowed cancer to take my son. Yet the truth is (and there is a lot of tension in this truth), God can only give good things. I still don’t understand this; at least not fully. I know that for Ezra, “to live [was] Christ and to die [was] gain” (Phil.1:21). For him, because of Jesus’ sacrifice and the belief he gave Ezra, death ushered him into an eternity with Christ. He ran his race and finished well. It is good for him to be finished.

There is great struggle in my own heart, however, as I wrestle with how losing Ezra was good for me; was good for my family. It feels like there has been far more destruction and ruin than good (at least that I can see or understand). I still find that I wish God would have done it differently. I may feel that for the remainder of my days, yet this wrestling does not diminsh the good that God is working out.

I am not yet at the point in which the good that I can see makes the loss feel “worth it.” There are many faithful saints who teach me so much in their joyful submission to God’s plans, feeling any loss they have endured is worth it for all they have gained through the process. I am unsure if it’s a reflection of the stubborn nature of my heart or simply the depth of sorrow that still exists, but I’m not yet there. Losing my son doesn’t feel worth the gain; or at least the gain I can see. Maybe in the years to come this will change in me, but for now I would rather have Ezra here over any of the change that I’ve experienced.

Right now, the good I can see feels like I’ve had to mine for it; digging and searching for tiny gems in the darkness of a black cavern. Yet as I have mined for it, there are these tiny stones of beauty that have been found. I imagine the longer I endure, the more gems will be discovered. I also imagine the longer I hold these stones, the more precious they will become.

As I continue to mine for these tiny gems of beauty, here are ten ways I can see God working loss for my good.

1. A Deeper Assurance

Losing my son falls into the category of a pain so intense, a loss so horrible that I could see how faith would feel uncertain. While the road from loss to today has been wrought with much wrestling, many questions, and deep struggle, I am more convinced now than ever that not “anything else in all creation will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord” (Romans 8:39). This is not because I have held on; it is because of Jesus’ promise that “whoever comes to [him] he will never cast out” (John 6:37). He has held me and I am convinced he will not stop.

2. A Deeper Christ-Like Compassion

I find that I am far more compassionate now, especially toward those who have faced loss. I am far less judgmental about how others grieve (which is also admitting that I was judgmental about how others grieved). I understand with much deeper understanding what it is to “weep with those who weep” (Romans 12:15). Many of my sharp, jagged edges have been shaved off through losing my son and I know that the compassion that now dwells in my heart looks more like that of Christ.

3. A Deeper Longing for Eternity

I find that I long for eternity now in a way I did not used to long. Before we lost Ezra, there were so many things I wanted to experience, places I wanted to visit, things I wanted to taste and feel before Christ returned or called me home. I now realize the foolishness of this. There is literally nothing on earth that I can do, experience, or taste that will even begin to compare to what it is to be with Christ. My hold on this world has been incredibly loosened and I long for his return in a way I never did before.

4. A Deeper Appreciation and Love for Jesus

Celebrating the empty tomb feels different now than before we lost Ezra. While I have held this faith for most of my life, the love and gratitude I have for Jesus has grown. There is a deeper appreciation for Christ’s sacrifice on the cross and a deeper awe of his resurrection and all he accomplished.

5. A Deeper Gratitude for God’s Sacrifice

I find that I feel a deep gratitude for God’s willingness to give up his son for me. God has been exceedingly kind in giving me a life full of people that I love deeply. There is not a single person, however, that I love enough to give up one of my sons for them. Yet God did it willingly. It was his plan from the very beginning of time, not his reaction to sin entering the world; it was plan A. I’m so thankful he was willing make a way for sinners like me through the giving of his own son. I would never be able to do that.

6. A Deeper Understanding of Biblical Truths

There are Biblical truths that have been a piece of knowledge in my head, but now feel more deeply rooted in my heart. I do not remember a day I did not know Jesus, yet a pitfall in this type of testimony can be that the knowledge I have in my head, which I learned from very early on, can feel rote or grow dull. I find since losing my son, the Biblical truths that have been a piece of my understanding for as long as I can remember are now truths that I also feel deeply within my heart. While loss seems like it would cause a blockade from my head to my heart, it has actually opened up pathways for deeper belief.

7. A Deeper Sense of Urgency

I now have a deeper sense of urgency about the reality of death and eternity. Before loss, heaven was not something I thought about often. It was one piece of the story of salvation. I think about eternity a lot now. I am less content to waste time on foolish endeavors or praise that feels empty and misdirected. I also feel a deeper sense of urgency for those who do not know Jesus. Losing a child removes a sense of safety from the world. With that loss comes a visceral understanding of the tragedy of the wages of sin. Death is a reality that every person must face and there is real hope in the face of the reality of death. I sense a deeper urgency to share this hope.

8. A Deeper Worship

Since losing my son, worship has felt different; specifically worship through song. The lyrics to worship songs have come alive in a way they rarely did before we lost Ezra. Hardly a week goes by within the corporate gathering that some line from a song does not jump off the screen and lead to deeper worship and gratitude. While I am sure there are layers that have changed, worship has come alive differently since losing my son.

9. A Deeper Surrender

There is part of my heart that has had to grow in surrender to both the mystery and also the confusion that can come with following God. Loss has forced both a humility and a more contrite heart that realizes I cannot begin to presume what God may be up to in most situations. There is deep mystery in God and I have a deeper recognition of my inability to understand his ways. This in and of itself requires surrender in the midst of confusion; which is really the essence of faith, is it not? At times this surrender brings with it peace yet there are still times it brings about wrestling. In all of this, I recognize that my heart has grown in surrender.

10. A Deeper Understanding of God’s Goodness

I grew up in the American church. While there are certainly good and beautiful things within this context, there are also very real pitfalls (which I imagine is true in every culture). A piece I did not realize had so deeply affected my heart is my understanding of God’s goodness. I tied God’s goodness to the gifts he gave me; to the “yes” answers to my prayers. Pieces of the prosperity gospel had snuck into my theology without my ever recognizing it.

I began to feel this tension when Ezra was sick. Any time we received a positive answer to prayer regarding Ezra’s health, so many would proclaim, “God is so good!” And yes, he is good! The tension came for me, however, when I had to wrestle with the fact that God’s goodness did not change even as my son lay dying. In this time, there was not one person who proclaimed, “God is so good!” While I recognize this would have come across as deeply insensitive, the truth is God’s goodness did not change at any point during Ezra’s life. God is simply good. Always.

Through loss, I have gained a deeper understanding of the fact that life is hard and God is good. There is a tension living in that space because I want so badly for God’s goodness to be defined by my definition of good. At times, his goodness looks like I want it to. Often, however, his goodness looks very different than I would have hoped. Losing Ezra has caused me to see God’s goodness differently; less tied to what he gives and more tethered to who he is.

I imagine there are many other gifts that I will continue to unearth as I keep walking down this road of loss. I hope one day these gems I find will begin to weigh so heavily on me that I am sure that losing my son was worth the pain for the sake of all the beauty that was gained. I am not yet to that point, but by God’s grace, I am confident he is bringing about good as he promised. For this, I am thankful.