Five Years
Five years ago today (it was actually a Monday), Brian entered the gates of heaven.
Max's prayer this morning over breakfast: "Dear Jesus, thank you for this day. And thank you that five years ago Daddy had his homecoming."
Briggs' prayer that followed: "Dear Jesus, thank you for this day. And thank you that Daddy is in heaven with you."
As I reflect on this year, once again I marvel at God's faithfulness and his sweet hand of redemption. I think back to that first anniversary of his homecoming when I trudged through each moment as though I was in quicksand. Deep breath. Foot forward. I still wasn't sure it was real. But God remained faithful and I never quite sunk so deep that I couldn't move. Today we went to see Brian's stone and Max leaned down to kiss it. He leaned up and said, "Mommy, I remember when Daddy couldn't breathe very well and had that machine. And I asked him to play legos with me--the Duplo legos--and he got down and played with me." We prayed as a family and thanked God for Brian, but more importantly, we thanked Him for his faithfulness to us--all four of us.
Understanding redemption, at least how I make sense of it, is believing the gospel and knowing that Jesus wants my heart. It's not the expectation that things will be good--instead, it is knowing that God is good. Blood shed out of love, a love that never fails and never leaves. Sure, the boys have a daddy now--and yes, that is abundant provision, but provision is so much more than that. Both boys know Jesus and love him and want to follow him. My husband loves Jesus and craves intimacy with God. I love Jesus and know that He is my one and only source of life.
My boys have grown and flourished beyond expectation with their new daddy. And what is so comforting to me is knowing Brian wanted this--an earthly father to love them and to spur them on in their journey with Jesus. I find it redemptive to see how God put a little bit of Brian in both of them to sweeten our life. Max's tender, tender heart--he wants to make the world more beautiful. Briggs has the Maynor "look" in the way he walks and dances and moves. My sweet boys have three fathers--a Heavenly Father, a father in heaven, and father here on earth.
I still miss Brian sometimes. He walked by grace and lived gracefully. But by his death, I know Christ's sacrifice and love and pursuit of me much more. Brian read The Sacred Romance by John Eldridge during the last months of his earthly life. I am now currently reading it with Todd. Eldridge says it well--God risked it all to rescue us--the most daring of plans--all because He loved us.
The gospel says that we, who are God's beloved, created a cosmic crisis. It says we, too, were stolen from our True Love and that he launched the greatest campaign in the history of the world to get us back. God created us for intimacy with him. When we turned our back on him he promised to come for us. He sent personal messengers; he used beauty and affliction to recapture our hearts. After all else failed, he conceived the most daring of plans. Under the cover of night he stole into the enemy's camp incognito, the Ancient of Days disguised as a newborn. The Incarnation, as Phil Yancey reminds us, was a daring raid into enemy territory. The whole world lay under the power of the evil one and we were held in the dungeons of darkness. God risked it all to rescue us. Why? What is it that he sees in us that causes him to act the jealous lover, to lay siege both on the kingdom of darkness and on our own idolatries as if on Troy-not to annihilate, but to win us once again for himself? This fierce intention, this reckless ambition that shoves all conventions aside, willing literally to move heaven and earth-We've been offered many explanations.
From one religious camp we're told that what God wants is obedience, or sacrifice, or adherence to the right doctrines, or morality. Those are the answers offered by conservative churches. The more therapeutic churches suggest that no, God is after our contentment, or happiness, or self-actualization, or something else along those lines. He is concerned about all these things, of course, but they are not his primary concern. What he is after is us-our laughter, our tears, our dreams, our fears, our heart of hearts. Remember his lament in Isaiah, that though his people were performing all their duties, "their hearts are far from me" (29:13 italics added). How few of us truly believe this. We've never been wanted for our heart, our truest self, not really, not for long. The thought that God wants our heart seems too good to be true.
( The Sacred Romance , 90, 91 )
Max's prayer this morning over breakfast: "Dear Jesus, thank you for this day. And thank you that five years ago Daddy had his homecoming."
Briggs' prayer that followed: "Dear Jesus, thank you for this day. And thank you that Daddy is in heaven with you."
As I reflect on this year, once again I marvel at God's faithfulness and his sweet hand of redemption. I think back to that first anniversary of his homecoming when I trudged through each moment as though I was in quicksand. Deep breath. Foot forward. I still wasn't sure it was real. But God remained faithful and I never quite sunk so deep that I couldn't move. Today we went to see Brian's stone and Max leaned down to kiss it. He leaned up and said, "Mommy, I remember when Daddy couldn't breathe very well and had that machine. And I asked him to play legos with me--the Duplo legos--and he got down and played with me." We prayed as a family and thanked God for Brian, but more importantly, we thanked Him for his faithfulness to us--all four of us.
Understanding redemption, at least how I make sense of it, is believing the gospel and knowing that Jesus wants my heart. It's not the expectation that things will be good--instead, it is knowing that God is good. Blood shed out of love, a love that never fails and never leaves. Sure, the boys have a daddy now--and yes, that is abundant provision, but provision is so much more than that. Both boys know Jesus and love him and want to follow him. My husband loves Jesus and craves intimacy with God. I love Jesus and know that He is my one and only source of life.
My boys have grown and flourished beyond expectation with their new daddy. And what is so comforting to me is knowing Brian wanted this--an earthly father to love them and to spur them on in their journey with Jesus. I find it redemptive to see how God put a little bit of Brian in both of them to sweeten our life. Max's tender, tender heart--he wants to make the world more beautiful. Briggs has the Maynor "look" in the way he walks and dances and moves. My sweet boys have three fathers--a Heavenly Father, a father in heaven, and father here on earth.
I still miss Brian sometimes. He walked by grace and lived gracefully. But by his death, I know Christ's sacrifice and love and pursuit of me much more. Brian read The Sacred Romance by John Eldridge during the last months of his earthly life. I am now currently reading it with Todd. Eldridge says it well--God risked it all to rescue us--the most daring of plans--all because He loved us.
The gospel says that we, who are God's beloved, created a cosmic crisis. It says we, too, were stolen from our True Love and that he launched the greatest campaign in the history of the world to get us back. God created us for intimacy with him. When we turned our back on him he promised to come for us. He sent personal messengers; he used beauty and affliction to recapture our hearts. After all else failed, he conceived the most daring of plans. Under the cover of night he stole into the enemy's camp incognito, the Ancient of Days disguised as a newborn. The Incarnation, as Phil Yancey reminds us, was a daring raid into enemy territory. The whole world lay under the power of the evil one and we were held in the dungeons of darkness. God risked it all to rescue us. Why? What is it that he sees in us that causes him to act the jealous lover, to lay siege both on the kingdom of darkness and on our own idolatries as if on Troy-not to annihilate, but to win us once again for himself? This fierce intention, this reckless ambition that shoves all conventions aside, willing literally to move heaven and earth-We've been offered many explanations.
From one religious camp we're told that what God wants is obedience, or sacrifice, or adherence to the right doctrines, or morality. Those are the answers offered by conservative churches. The more therapeutic churches suggest that no, God is after our contentment, or happiness, or self-actualization, or something else along those lines. He is concerned about all these things, of course, but they are not his primary concern. What he is after is us-our laughter, our tears, our dreams, our fears, our heart of hearts. Remember his lament in Isaiah, that though his people were performing all their duties, "their hearts are far from me" (29:13 italics added). How few of us truly believe this. We've never been wanted for our heart, our truest self, not really, not for long. The thought that God wants our heart seems too good to be true.
( The Sacred Romance , 90, 91 )
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