I Wish . . .

[The following is the message I gave at our son's funeral.  By God's grace, I was able to make it through it.  As you read it, please remember that this was not meant to bring attention to my family or I, but only to glorify our Lord, who has walked with us and shone his light in these darkest of days]

“I wish.”  It’s a simple little phrase, which we learn to use in our vocabulary at a very early age.  We “wish” we could do this or do that.  We “wish” we could have this or have that.  We “wish” things could be a certain way.  Seriously, who hasn’t--at some point--”wished” they had their very own genie in a bottle, who could come out and grant just three wishes.  You see, as humans we tend to long, yearn, desire, and “wish” that things could be different.  That things could be better.  That things didn’t have to be the way they are.  

In the past several days, we all have spent a lot of time “wishing.”  Wishing that it wasn’t us.  Wishing we could be anywhere else other than a hospital, a funeral home, or a cemetery.  Wishing we could be doing anything else other than picking out a casket, purchasing a plot, and planning a service for our baby boy.  Wishing we could be experiencing anything else other than the deepest and most gut-wrenching and heart-stopping pain we have ever felt.  Wishing I could be anywhere else other than right here in the same room with our baby boy in his casket.

We wish we knew what happened.  We wish the autopsy had revealed something, anything.  We wish we would have gone in and checked on him when we heard him whimper for the final time at 4:30am.  We wish we could go back and spend more time with him, play ball with him, and hold him one more time.  We’d give anything for him to wake us up in the middle of the night, interrupt our conversation, yank down our Christmas tree, and drop crayons down our floor vents.  We wish he was still here.  And we wish we knew why he isn’t.  

But you see, the funny thing about wishing is that wishes are usually based on changing a situation or outcome that simply can’t be changed.   Think about it, when we wish for something, it’s typically filled with regret or dissatisfaction with our current situation.  Wishing is for fairy tales.  Wishing is for genies.  Wishing accomplishes nothing more than giving us a false sense of hope that things will be better than our situation currently offers.  Wishing captures that innocent child’s imagination, but it does not--and will not--address life’s darkest and most painful times.  

So we don’t wish--we pray.  Wishing doesn’t address our current situation--faith does.

You see, praying is different than wishing.  Praying is filled with faith, and faith is filled with hope.  Faith is being confident in what we hope for and certain of the things we cannot see.  As we try to figure out how to make sense of what has happened and attempt to navigate life moving forward, we know that we cannot see what God sees.  So we pray.  

We pray that you will come to know what we thought we knew before now, but has only been confirmed:  

“God is taking care of us.  We feel the warmth and security of being enveloped in His loving presence.  Every detail of our life is under His control.  Moreover, everything fits into a pattern for good, to those who love Him and are called according to His design and purpose.
Because the world is an abnormal, fallen condition, we tend to think that chance governs the universe.  Events may seem to occur randomly, with little or no meaning.  People who view the world this way have overlooked one basic fact:  the limitations of our human understanding.  What we know of the world we inhabit is only the tip of the iceberg.  Submerged beneath the surface of the visible world are mysteries too vast for us to comprehend.  If we could only see how close God is to us and how He constantly works on our behalf, we would never again doubt that He is wonderfully caring for us.  This is why we must live by faith, not by sight; trusting in His mysterious, majestic Presence.”***

Losing our precious Thomas has been the most difficult and painful circumstance our family has ever faced.  Yet, at the same time, these have been some of the most peaceful and grace-filled days we have ever experienced as a family.  We want you to know that the source of our faith, the source of our peace, the source of our joy, and the source of our strength is Jesus.  Don’t get me wrong, this hurts.  It’s paralyzing.  We don’t wish this on anyone.  But we pray.  We pray the same prayer for you that Paul prayed for the Ephesians:

“I pray that out of his glorious riches he may strengthen you with power through his Spirit in your inner being, so that Christ may dwell in your hearts through faith. And I pray that you, being rooted and established in love, may have power, together with all the Lord’s holy people, to grasp how wide and long and high and deep is the love of Christ, and to know this love that surpasses knowledge—that you may be filled to the measure of all the fullness of God.  Now to him who is able to do immeasurably more than all we ask or imagine, according to his power that is at work within us, to him be glory in the church and in Christ Jesus throughout all generations, for ever and ever!  Amen.”  

                                                                                                            - Eph. 3:16-21

As our 8-year-old son, Samuel, said:  “God’s going to do something good out of this.”

***This section was adapted from a devotional book that my wife Amy had been reading.  It’s called “Jesus Calling,” by Sarah Young.  It’s a book of words of encouragement and devotion for every day of the year.  This particular reading was dated December 12, the day our precious Thomas entered heaven.  We read it that evening as we began our first sleepless night.