Wading In

Written by Joy Gilman

I woke in the middle of the night and knew something was wrong. I felt cramping in my lower abdomen and discovered I was bleeding. I was eight weeks pregnant. I didn't want to disturb my sleeping toddler so I told my (now ex) husband I would go solo to the hospital while he remained with our daughter at home. He agreed. I arrived at the hospital and was eventually ushered into an examination room.

"Is anyone with you?" the nurse asked.

"No, I'm alone," I replied.

I sat in silence. The brightly lit room was cold and sterile and I tried to keep warm in my hospital gown. Over and over I prayed the same prayer, please God, let my baby be ok. Hours later an ultrasound confirmed what I feared; the baby in my womb no longer had a heartbeat. The little life growing inside of me was dead. I felt numb. Suddenly I regretted my decision to go solo. As the grief seeped in, I felt very, very alone.

Then something unexpected happened. The tall, gruff, fatherly nurse in charge of my care entered the room. He sat down next to me, breathed a deep sigh and said, "You've got to grieve this. This is a loss..." Right then and there I felt the tender presence of God. Through the extraordinary empathy of a nurse, God waded into the waters of my sorrow and acknowledged my pain. God made sure I knew I was not alone and my sadness mattered to Him. God is an expert at empathy.

"When Mary arrived and saw Jesus, she fell at his feet and said, 'Lord, if only you had been here, my brother would not have died.'

When Jesus saw her weeping and saw the other people wailing with her, a deep anger welled up within him and he was deeply troubled. 'Where have you put him?' he asked them.

They told him, 'Lord, come and see.' Then Jesus wept." John 11: 32-35 NLT

In John 11, Jesus enters a solemn scene. His dear friend Lazarus has died. Lazarus' sisters, Martha and Mary, are grieving their brother's passing while trying to reconcile why Jesus didn't come sooner to prevent Lazarus' death. Aren't we some of Jesus' closest friends? they likely wondered. To the sisters, Lazarus' death seemed so avoidable, so senseless, and Jesus' delay in coming to their aid was so uncharacteristic of their miracle-working friend. Mary was especially overcome with despair. What the sisters didn't realize was their brother's death created a divine appointment with the Savior. Jesus never intended to merely heal Lazarus. Rather, He intended to resurrect him (vs.14-15). It would become one of the most significant events of Jesus' ministry, outside of His own death and resurrection.

Yet even though Jesus knew victory was near, He was not impervious to the sisters' pain, nor did He dismiss it or try to fix it. Instead He willingly allowed himself to feel their heartache while remaining securely tethered to the knowledge of the miracle at hand. Their grief mattered to Him. Our grief matters to Him. Jesus is empathy with skin on. He is Immanuel, God with us.

Recommended reading:

John 11

Luke 7:11-17

Psalm 56