The immense beauty and the lingering sadness of the past
week hit me fully during “On Eagle’s Wings” at my mother’s memorial service on
Saturday. The soloist sang promises from Isaiah, words that had never seemed
more personal than at that moment. Before her voice died out, the voices of the
gathered congregation behind me swelled in the refrain, “And God will raise you
up on eagles’ wings, bear you on the breath of dawn, make you to shine like the
sun, and hold you in the palm of God’s hand.”
I hadn’t been able to look behind me at the congregation as
I walked in, trying not to cry too much too soon. When I heard the chorus
behind me, I couldn’t help but wonder: Where had all of those voices come from?
I had spoken with many people during the visitation, but the voices echoing in
the sanctuary behind me seemed to outnumber those whom I had met.
The musical conversation between soloist and congregation
continued through several verses. The word of the Lord spoken by the soloist in
front of me was followed by the congregational refrain enfolding me from behind.
My soul was nourished by God’s promises and by the community in those holy
moments, and it continues to be.
Isn’t that the way that it always is at times of grief? I have
been part of hundreds of funerals as pastor, and I have now been part of two
funerals as child of my parents. Through all of these experiences, I have learned
that healing comes from God, and it comes also from the people that God has
placed in our lives.
The well-crafted sermon which captured my mother’s beauty
and God’s love brings healing. The food filling my oven and my refrigerator to
overflowing brings healing. Scripture speaking directly to my heart in these days
brings healing. Family traveling from California, Iowa, Georgia, North Carolina,
and Missouri brings healing. Each card I open brings healing, as do the flowers
and plants that fill my home. And of course, tears, of which there have been
plenty, bring healing.
Jesus healed people in many different ways. There were some
healings that were as one might expect, via laying on of hands and solemn
words. Healings took many other forms, though. Jesus spoke words while he was
nowhere near the person who needed healing. He grabbed some dirt and added
enough spit to make a mud pie, which he then smeared on a man’s eyes. He even healed
a women who touched his shirt stealthily in a crowd.
I’m really not surprised, therefore, that Jesus also uses
music, sermons, casseroles, airplanes, automobiles, cards, flowers, plants,
tears, hugs, and much more to bring about healing from grief. In Jesus’ hands,
anything can be an instrument of healing from grief.
Thank you to each of you for being part of my own healing.
Best of all, Mom and Dad now fully healed and are together,
as they have always wanted to be.
For all of these things, I am grateful to The Healer.
