Tonight, We Grieve

“Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted,” John softly spoke the words that both men had offered to others in times of brokenness.

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The storm continued to unleash its rage upon the tiny island of Patmos. In the doorway of a small house, an old man watched anxiously for his young friend to return from his frantic race to the seaside. The man had experienced unfathomable loss during his lifetime, but moments such as this never grew easier. One might have expected that his heart would have hardened after the endless cycle of death and cruelty that his eyes had witnessed, but the last of the original disciples of Jesus remained a voice of unwavering faith, love, and commitment to the Lord he served. Still, John’s heart was heavy as he peered into the darkness, watching for Andrew’s return.

Andrew was not the proper name of John’s young companion, but the one used by those closest to him. The Lord’s disciple, Andrew, had been instrumental in leading his father to the faith. When the child was introduced to the man who had so profoundly influenced his father, his fascination and imitation of the devout disciple quickly earned him the name “Young Andrew.” The disciple whose name he carried may have been the hero of the boy’s early childhood, but it was John who was blessed with the opportunity of watching him grow to manhood. It was he who comforted the young man when his parents were executed for proclaiming the name of Jesus.

Multiple attempts had also been made to silence John, but the Lord had preserved him —to the amazement of the people and the embarrassment of the “all-powerful” Emperor. Perhaps fearful of the possibility of another visible defeat, the cruel tyrant sentenced John and several prominent church leaders to labor in the mines of Patmos, considering this to be a death sentence to the now elderly man and a message to the brazen followers of the Galilean carpenter. Andrew was among the exiles. Yet, like Joseph in Egypt, or Daniel in Babylon, the Lord’s hand was with John on Patmos. Even in the mines, his persistent message bore fruit, eventually softening the heart of the commander overseeing both the prison and port itself. He was removed from the mines and given administrative duties; and because it was necessary for him to be available to the commander, he was also given very basic accommodations. It took time, but John was eventually permitted to enlist the help of an assistant. Andrew was the second man to serve in this position, and his companionship was one of the greatest blessings of John’s later years. The elder man never ceased to give thanks to God for the gift of Andrew’s presence.

The younger man had been gone only for a few hours, but John prayed fervently, not only for Andrew’s safe return, but also for the circumstances that had drawn him to the seaside on this wretched night.  All John knew was that there had been a shipwreck, and several local men were aboard.  Andrew rushed out to assist in the rescue efforts, while John begged for God’s mercy. The residents of this island were all too well acquainted with loss and grief, and John prayed that the evening would not bring more of it to their doorstep.

Moments later, he spotted Andrew returning to the house. His slow pace and drooping shoulders told John that the news would be tragic.  As he passed through the doorway, their eyes met briefly. Andrew gave a slight shake of his head, lowered his gaze, and slumped into a chair. John grabbed a towel and wiped the dripping rainwater from Andrew’s hair and face.  There was no need to speak.  Inwardly, John prayed for comfort for this beloved one whose shoulders carried the weight of far too much tragedy.  Now was not the time for questions.  For the moment, his friend just needed someone to care for him.

John threw the towel over his shoulder, took a pitcher of water from the table, and filled a basin.  He set it down by Andrew’s feet, and carefully lowered his aging body to the floor.  He slipped off one of Andrew’s sandals, and placed the muddy foot into the basin.  Gently, he washed the mud away, then proceeded with the other foot.  Tears filled his eyes as he recalled a moment that had taken place many years ago.  He was a few years younger than Andrew, and it was his own Lord that sat at his feet.  He recalled how in the arrogance of youth, he had thought himself above washing the feet of his friends.  He remembered how humbled he had felt when it was Jesus himself who took the basin and towel and began to wash the feet of each man in the room.  Now, all of those friends had crossed into eternity.  John had other opportunities to wash feet in his many years of ministry, but never had it impacted him like this.

Time seemed to stand still. The winds and rains still beat furiously against the home, as if determined to destroy it. Inside, however, the winds were reduced to mere drafts, noticeable only by the flickering candle flames casting dancing shadows on the inside of the walls, as if mocking the storm outside. The sounds of water dripping back into the basin spoke only of its cleansing power, as it washed away the filthy reminders of the fallen world in which they lived. John closed his eyes, recognizing the sacredness of the moment, and silently praising God for his walls of protection around them. He felt a kinship with Noah, safely enclosed in the ark while the rains fell; and also with his ancestors enslaved in Egypt, safe behind their blood-stained doorframes, as the Angel of Death struck every home lacking such protection.

Eventually, the sound of Andrew weeping joined in the song of the wind and water, and soon John added his portion to the lament.  In the near darkness, the two men wept for all of the pain and grief in the world.  Each man prayed wordlessly; not the prayers of the pious, but the groanings of weary souls eager for the day when death and pain would be no more.

When John finished washing the mud from Andrew’s feet and legs, he rested the towel on the side of the basin.  After a moment, Andrew reached out his hands and helped the elder man to his feet.  John helped him remove his wet clothing and finished washing the mud away.  Not until Andrew was warm, clean, dry, and once again seated, did either man speak.

“Tomorrow, I will help bury the dead, and look for the missing.  A grieving wife or mother will ask me, ‘Where is the Messiah that you speak of?’, and I will give all the right answers. Inwardly, however, I will cry out, ‘Where are you?  How long? When will you say ‘Enough?’”  Andrew stared off into the distance as he spoke, “I may not let it show that I am angry, but I will be angry. I am so very tired.”

John understood his friend’s emotions.  Anger was a frequent visitor to his own heart, especially in his younger years.  As he often felt, he wished the Spirit would move and empower him to go down to the seaside to heal all of the broken bodies.  He felt no such stirring and knew that it was not to be.

“I have compassion for these people.”

Jesus had promised his disciples that the Holy Spirit would remind them of everything he said. Over the years John had experienced many such moments, and they were not simple recollections. His mind had just been swept away to a particular moment with Jesus, which he re-experienced in vivid detail. These words were first spoken after days of crowds coming to him with their needs. The disciples were tired and ready for an escape from the endless flood of people. Jesus was equally tired, if not even more so, but he spoke these words with authority and conviction. He was the good shepherd, and his sheep needed him.

“Come with me by yourselves to a quiet place and get some rest.”

Once again, John had been transported to a moment from the past. This time, he found himself looking directly into the face of his beloved Lord as he spoke. It was a different time and place, but the circumstances were the same — crowds of people with endless needs. It was the face of Jesus that captivated him. This vision lasted only a moment, but it gave him a deeper understanding of the heart of his Lord. He meditated on his experience for a moment before turning to Andrew, who was unaware of what had just occurred.

“Do you know there were times when Jesus felt… like he was letting people down? Moments when he felt like he was betraying the very ones who sought him?” John asked Andrew.

Andrew spoke no words but looked up at him, tear-filled eyes waiting for a word that would lift the heaviness in his heart.

“There was a sorrow he experienced, unlike that in the garden or on the cross. I do not mean to minimize the intensity of those hours, but they were filled with a much different kind of pain. It was also different from the hurt he experienced when he was insulted, rebuked, or even when we had let him down, as we so often did.

There was a unique grief that he felt when he had to leave the crowds behind in order to spend time teaching us, preparing us for the future, or simply allowing all of us some necessary rest. There were times when he had to hide from the broken and hurting in order to accomplish his greater purpose.  I saw the tears that flowed down his cheeks as he led us away from people who placed their hope for deliverance in him, only to have those hopes crushed as he went in the opposite direction.

Jesus made it clear to us that he did not come to heal our physical bodies.  He could have spent his entire time on earth just healing the sick and freeing the oppressed, but he had a much higher purpose — one that could not be neglected.  He was here so that we would be able to have a new, perfect body in an eternity that we would share with him.  He fully knew his purpose, but that didn’t eliminate the pain that accompanied obedience to it.  He had such tenderness and compassion for hurting people, and he grieved deeply for them.  At times, it completely broke his heart to leave them. I don’t think he ever felt that he was leaving “the crowds.” He had to walk away from people… individuals… with names he knew, and pain he felt.  His love for people was…is… without measure.  He took every heartache upon himself.  The adversary, I believe, tortured him with accusations of desertion and betrayal. I witnessed it on more than one occasion, but I didn’t comprehend it at the time.”

John paused before summing up his thoughts.

“Our Lord always gave priority to eternal purposes over temporal ones. That is why people in Galilee and Jerusalem still died while he walked the Earth.  Remember that he did not delay death for his own father, and his brothers resented him for it.  He also did not take his mother from the earth in order to spare her the pain of seeing him suffer.  Early death would have been a mercy to her, but how she suffered! His purposes remain a mystery, and he offers us no explanation. Faith cannot demand one. It simply perseveres, because that is the nature of faith.”

Andrew wiped away tears, “I don’t think I’ve ever pictured him in such a manner,” he said softly, as he stood, and turned toward his bed.

John laid his hand on Andrew’s shoulder.  “Be sure of this, my child; our Lord was a man.  He loved.  He grieved.  He wept.  And at times he pleaded with the Father who directed his steps.  He always submitted himself to his Father’s will, but that doesn’t mean he didn’t agonize over that submission.  Tonight, once again, we are like him in our grief.  That may be all we can bear at the moment, but he holds us steady.”

“I don’t feel very steady,” Andrew admitted. “I feel weak.”

“You weary yourself trying to be strong, child. The Word of God lives in you! And you have overcome the evil one — even when it feels otherwise,” John gently replied. “Go! Collapse! Cry to your Father! Pour out your heart; all of your anger and confusion! It is my experience that He will meet you in the midst of the storm, but perhaps not until you recognize and confess that you’ve come to the end of your own strength.”

Andrew remained silent, contemplating John’s words.

“Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted,” John softly spoke the words that both men had offered to others in times of brokenness. The years had proven to him that there was profound truth to be found in the simplicity of those words. “Tonight, we take our Lord at his word; we lay all of our pain at his feet, and we grieve.”

Andrew nodded. “Tonight, we grieve.  Tomorrow, we rise to face the day. There is much to be done.”

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Writer for the King