There are times in this life when we encounter the sacred. There have been a few such times for me. But sometimes I wonder how many more moments there would have been, had my eyes been opened to it. When I might have been more attuned to his presence.
After Caleb’s Heaven Day, the great darkness entered into my world, and the earth was shattered into a million pieces. I remember being fascinated by the sky; the clouds rolling by, the sunshine streaming through, the sunsets, the storms. I saw them as I had never seen them before. There were times when I felt as if I was in a Dr. Strange Marvel movie, with shattered glass floating all around me. As if I was in reality, but apart from it, observing the beauty in a whole different way. I was achingly and newly aware of evil and pain, but sensitized in a fresh way to the beauty and love of God. Death had become a new part of my story. But so did something else. Part of God’s gift to me in that season was a different perspective.
I remember one day, driving down the road and looking up at the sky. I saw as in my mind’s eye the clouds above and what appeared like claw marks across the expanse. They were like streaks rent by God himself, breaking through my darkness. And what caused my pain, the death of my son, was being transformed by God himself as a window, through those claw marks, to what lay beyond this world. And when I looked through, I saw, not more darkness, but rather such incredible dazzling beauty.
Maybe it’s like Aslan says in The Voyage of the Dawn Treader by C.S. Lewis when he explains to the children the reason he brought them to Narnia after all.
“I am [in your world].’ said Aslan. ‘But there I have another name. You must learn to know me by that name. This was the very reason why you were brought to Narnia, that by knowing me here for a little, you may know me better there.”
In that sacred season, marked by incredible pain, I experienced God as one who was making order out of disorder and pain, one creating purpose out of chaos, and one who was dazzlingly beautiful in a world that had become ugly when tainted by sin and death. Knowing him better in the darkness had enabled me to recognize more of him in the light. It helped me to see the signs of him more clearly when walking through the darkest of days.
Another such sacred moment was at the crash site by the roadside, right after Caleb died. A few of us had driven down to this place where Heaven had opened to bring my boy home. I remember thinking what a beautiful place this was where my boy breathed his last and opened his eyes in Heaven. Rolling hills, green pastures, blue sky, and billowy white clouds dotting the sky above. As we surveyed the area, picking up various belongings of Caleb’s strewed around, we wept and in an incredible moment of defiance to Satan, the king of darkness himself, the author of death and destruction, we gathered as one and lifted our hearts, hands, and voices to the one we were coming to know and love and trust in the darkness as well as the light. We declared, as Joseph did to his brothers in Genesis 50:20, “As for you, you meant evil against me, but God meant it for good…”
We did not take a picture of this moment in time. We simply stood there, praying and singing to the God who gave, and the God who took away. And we hid that moment in our hearts as we went our separate ways, remembering God’s goodness remains in the face of evil.
But while we could not capture this moment, God could.
Months later, in a moment of great sadness, I got on Google maps, found the big white cross which marked the end of the road where Caleb died, and proceeded down the road, in street view mode, wanting to see the place where my boy died, visiting it digitally for the first time.
What I saw struck me dumb.
There, beside the side of the road, we stood. In a sliver of time, on a back country road, the google maps van had driven by and snapped a photo.
As I sat there, tears streaming down my face, I realized that I had encountered the sacred, the holy. A reminder that God may sometimes seem far off, but, if we have eyes to see, he is closer than we could ever imagine.
He is there holding you as you weep at the graveside.
He is there when you can’t close your eyes in sleep because of the horrible pain in your chest.
He is there as you remember the sound of their voice, bringing on a new, fresh wave of grief.
It was a stark reminder to me that God was present there beside the road, as our hearts poured out in grief and praise. He is present now in the sadness and each joy, and He will always be closer than our very breath as we walk into our future. Our tears and praise are our gifts to him, in the midst of confusion and sadness, bringing great honor to his name. The gift given and the Giver who gave, will always be…good.
[Verse 1]
I will tell it like it is:
I was hanging by a thread
Pushed out to the furthest edge and I wasn’t proud of it
From my house within the wall
Always face to face with dark
Oh, I wondered if I knew the light at all
[Pre-Chorus]
I was sure my heart would melt with fear
But there was One who held me even there
[Chorus]
He is God above, He is God below
He is God of everything between
There’s no place you’ll be where He cannot go
Look at my face, these eyes have seen
I know the Lord
[Verse 2]
So, tell me what it is:
Are you hanging by a thread?
Are you pushed out on the edge? Are you ashamed of it?
Tell me where you are
Are you face to face with dark?
Do you wonder if the light will ever shine again?
[Pre-Chorus]
Oh, my son, your heart may melt with fear
But I know One who holds you even here
[Chorus]
He is God above, He is God below
He is God of everything between
There’s no place you’ll be where He cannot go
Look at my face, these eyes have seen
I know the Lord
[Bridge]
You belong to me and I belong to Him
Hold this scarlet cord and breathe
Hope is on the other end
[Chorus]
He is God above, He is God below
He is God of everything between
There’s no place you’ll be where He cannot go
Look at my face, these eyes have seen (I know)
Look at my face, these eyes have seen
Look at my face, these eyes have seen
I know the Lord