“Jesus Wept…

Then He shouted in a loud voice ‘Lazarus, come out!’”

 John 11:35, 43

And finally…the tent of compassion and power!

On February 22, 2005 my daughter died within me and I died as well.  That evening the doctor arrived to the hospital and timidly placed the ultrasound probe on my bulging stomach which boasted of life.  I looked up at the monitor which pierced my eyes with the sight of four resting chambers of a once rapidly beating baby girl heart.  As the doctors “I’m sorry” sank into my heart and mind I began screaming as only a grieving mother can.  When the words “Jesus” escaped my desperate and pleading lips, the doctor who was also a believer said with a rush of desperation and faith, “Let me check again.”  Once more the monitor revealed death.  No miracle would be happening today.  I grabbed onto Chris searching his eyes for a solution.

I was famished for the comfort and compassion of God.  I was literally starving for His tender affection and His godly condolence.  Though these needs were buried under the rubble of death’s quake in my life, I was starving for the human heart beat of Jesus to reassure me that He was in fact aching too.  I wanted to believe that my pain brought Him to His knees in empathetic agony.  I had read about this Jesus in the story of the death and resurrection of Lazarus and I wanted to believe that He was weeping with me too- just as He had wept bitterly with Mary.  But I couldn’t believe it.  His plan for Lazarus was victory, life and a miracle.  Where was my miracle?  Where was my powerful God?  We had even made space for such a miraculous occurrence, and yet…nothing.  His comfort and compassion must have been packed up in the same box with His power, removed very far from my life.

We are all crying out for the compassion of God in every circumstance of our life which requires that sort of tenderness.  We were made to be consoled by a God of infinite empathy, tenderness and ultimately a force of love so great action is invoked.  I remember receiving cards in the mail filled with scriptures about this God of compassion and yet, I struggled to believe a God who would allow a death so wrong and so sad would then present Himself as comforter?  Can it, does it work like that?

And so I buried my head deep into Chris’s chest each evening weeping as we held onto each other.  His compassion was a relentless force that fed me in nurture and comfort in every moment I needed it, and yet still, I ached for something more…

“I am so sorry.”

These were the words I heard Jesus speak to me just a few months after Anna died that changed the course of my grief and beckoned my wandering heart to His.  I had been crying in Anna’s nursery, rocking in the chair that had given us nine months of sheer glory together, when my moment was interrupted by this image:

I saw myself weeping in the rocking chair and Jesus was sitting at my feet crying as well.  He kept looking at me saying something, but it was as if an invisible wall was between us and I couldn’t hear Him.  It didn’t take long for me to realize that my anger toward Him was the sound barrier.  After a while though, my curiosity got the better of me and I simply said out loud, “What are you saying?” Humbly kneeling at my feet, Jesus looked up into my swollen eyes and in nearly a whisper yet with immeasurable conviction he said,

“I am so sorry.” And then He bowed His head and continued crying.

It was in this moment that I realized how parched my soul was for the compassion of God.  He was in agony for me.  I was His baby girl and He was bent over in grief for my pain.

If we imagine God on the throne and forget for even a second on the days when our sorrow is the greatest that He is weeping with us, then we miss the heartbeat of the gospel.  It was compassion that motivated Jesus Christ up the hill to Calvary to endure horrific pain, to endure hell and the hatred of the people He came to save.  Compassion motivated and preceded every beautiful story told in the gospels of God’s power.  I have since learned that the Jewish people understood and equated the word “compassion” with the physical description of “gut or bowels bursting forth.”  Compassion wasn’t just a feeling.  It was an emotion so strong and severe that it ached and tormented the body…and for Jesus this always led to action.

So I sat in the nursery literally drinking in the compassion that was being offered and after a while, my thirst was quenched.  I felt (for at least that moment of grief) satisfied.  Probably like a tiny baby taking in the nourishment from his mama; in that sacred moment I was being nourished by the sweet compassion of God.

Now there was no denying it, just like Mary, Jesus wept for me.

I emerged from the nursery later that evening, my grief and faith altered and yet still I ached over the absence of God’s power.  He had raised Lazarus back to life after He had wept and comforted Mary.  He walked to the tomb and shouted in a loud voice, “Lazarus come out!”  At this, Lazarus who had been dead for four days emerged from the tomb still wrapped in his burial cloths.  Jesus then spoke, “Free this man!”  I had now experienced God’s tender and holy compassion, but how could I reconcile the absence of His power?

For six years I have walked in grief.  Three of those years were spent in complete and total agony with the addition of spiritual turmoil and a lack of peace with God.  The past three years, I have continued to grieve but with the presence of peace and friendship with God.  It is from this place of spiritual reconciliation and renewal that I can say, I HAVE EXPERIENCED THE POWER OF GOD!!!  The POWER that erupted from His COMPASSION for me in death, the power that did in fact raise someone back to life…and that someone is me.

It wasn’t too long ago in reading this beautiful story again that I realized His power had been there all along.  “Kate, Come out!” was the voice that shouted to me in my own tomb of misery and near spiritual, emotional death.  And I have walked out into the glorious sunlight of God’s love.  “Free her” He spoke again, and the garments of death fell off.  I then realized that though His power had not maintained Anna’s heartbeat that He had raised her to life in eternity where she waits for me.  It was the power of the cross that made that transaction possible.  And the cross would never have happened had it not been for the compassion of God…gut wrenching love and tenderness for His lost children destined for hell if He didn’t take action.

So as it turns out, the day “God did nothing for me,” was in fact a day when His power was surging in the heavenlies, triumphing death and delivering my Anna into the embraces of angels, saints and her heavenly father.  It was power that made that happen.  And it is His power filled compassion that has served me and slowly revived me each day since leading to this day where I stand on the outside of the tomb with my burial cloths around my ankles.  I am free and all because of the compassion and power of Jesus!

The past week has made me limp from sorrow.  As I sit here and type, my eyes burn from crying, my body feels like I have run a marathon.  I have ached for that baby girl and yet simultaneously have soared to new heights in joy embracing her existence as NOW, as ALIVE and as WAITING for me!  This week the tent has been a haven of necessity.  And in here there has been a lot of weeping, but I am not the only one.  The Savior is here too, crying for the pain He knows I will tote with me for the remainder of my earthly days.  But His power is here too- a power ignited by the recognition of truth; the power of resurrection that has lifted a baby to eternity and her mama from the tomb of despair.

This month I have shared with you about the Jesus I have met in my grief, the one who is present and current and longs to build a tent for you too.  A place you can crawl into under the harsh elements and dark nature of the wilderness.  A place that will (if you allow it) be the most nurturing and fulfilling home you have ever come to know.

I’ll close with this…

February has once again come to an end, but grief remains and Jesus will be greater still!  I cannot wait to know you Lord and to continue experiencing you as we journey through life together.  I imagine as spring approaches that I will find my way out these woods.  The tent will be rolled up and placed again in the back-pack and I will move into another season of life.  And yet as I go, I realize I am not alone.  The Savior walks with me into each new frame of my life.  And oh for the day my feet take their first steps into the land of redemption.  My imagination and my longing heart allow me to nearly hear her laughter and her little feet running to get to me.  And on that day Jesus will be not beside me, but before me, running with Anna, wearing a smile of indescribable JOY!  For this is the moment he has held in mind during all the moments when He wept with me.  And He will wipe every tear as promised and I will spend an eternity touching, kissing, hugging, knowing and beholding Anna Rose Katherine Kelty!!!

But until that day…I have a very good tent!

Happy birthday to you baby girl…I am overwhelmed with delight for who you are and the reality of where you are and who you are with….We love you!!!