A Grieving Parent's Obedience

In Matthew 16, Jesus rebukes Peter for trying to suggest that Jesus should pursue anything other than to fulfill the Father’s calling for his life—a sacrificial death on the cross. Rather than calling us to a lap of luxury, Jesus tells Peter and those of us who have been called as His followers to “deny himself, take up his cross and follow me.” (Matthew 16:24). About this death, Dietrich Bonhoeffer wrote, “When Christ calls a man, he bids him to come and die.” In becoming His disciples, we are called to suffer for Him. The “deaths” we must die are different for every believer. Those of us who are grieving the death of one of our children have a difficult cross to bear. As demonstrated in numerous instances throughout the gospels, Christ holds the power of life, death and even resurrection. Since we lost a child, we have had to come to grips with the fact that, while Jesus held the power to save our child at the very moment of our child’s death, he chose not to heal our child. Unlike many grieving parents who grieve the fact that God wasn’t strong enough to save their children, we trust that our child died not because God could not save the child, but because our child’s physical death is a means (albeit a nasty, heinous, terrible one) allowed in order to achieve much greater purposes. In trusting in this greater good, we have to pick up our cross, daily, by casting aside our own dreams for ourselves and our children, and instead obeying God’s promises that His purposes for our lives and our child’s (shortened) life will, in full view of eternity, far exceed our own expectations. Will you pick up your cross and carry it with me on your own road to Golgatha, regardless of where it might light, in the sure hope and certainty that it will be worth the cost, in the ultimate end?

Daily Disciplines and Eternal Consequences

In his short fantasy novel, “The Great Divorce” C.S. Lewis follows a man who is given the opportunity to travel to a fictitious “Heaven.” This “Heaven” includes both the saved (the “Solid People”) as well as the unsaved (“Ghosts,” who are residents of “the town” or Hell). In this fictional novel, even who are not saved are given the opportunity to visit this Heaven. Lewis, of course, tells his readers not to think that this conception of Heaven is in any way theologically-sound. The novel does provide us, however, with a great glimpse into a very basic (but often overlooked) aspect of our Christian lives-that is, how seemingly small decisions made every day will ultimately impact who we become, not only in this life but in eternity. In other words, every day decisions will ultimately impact our desires, our personality, and who it is that we become, in Christ. During one interaction between the main character and a member of the Solid People, we are told, “Not only this valley but all their earthly past will have been Heaven to those who are saved. Not only the twilight in that town, but all their life on Earth too, will then be seen by the damned to have been Hell. That is what mortals misunderstand. They say of some temporal suffering ,”No future bliss can make up for it,” not knowing that Heaven, once attained, will work backwards and turn even that agony into a glory. And of some sinful pleasure they say, “Let me have but this and I’ll take the consequences”: little dreaming how damnation will spread back and back into their past and contaminate the pleasure of the sin. Both processes begin even before death. The good man’s past begins to change so that his forgiven sins and remembered sorrows take on the qualify of Heaven; the bad man’s past already conforms to his badness and is filled only with dreariness.” C.S. Lewis, Great Divorce, Page 69. As we grieve the death of our child, will we renew ourselves, day after day, in the promises of Hope found in scripture so that, by reason of years of practice, it becomes second nature to us? Are we taking the necessary (seemingly insignificant) mundane steps to steep ourselves in the encouragement of fellow believers? As Lewis notes, the consequences of these daily decisions have eternal consequences.

Making My Son's Death My Own

The farther away in time we get from Micah’s death, the easier it is to become re-absorbed into the world. How much easier it is now, more than 4 years since Micah’s death, to grow comfortable again, to regain personal, professional and family ambitions. We have enjoyed the opportunity to be parents to our three living kids, and all the activities that come with parenting. From an outside perspective, one might say we have a “life” again. But while the world, and well-meaning friends, may applaud us for this re-engagement, a complete re-engagement would mean the loss of one of the great legacies to us of Micah’s death. For in the emotional and spiritual upheaval created in my heart following Micah’s death, I experienced not a physical death, but a death to my own ambitions, dreams and hopes. Since Micah was (and even now is) an integral part of the hopes for my life, in Micah’s physical death I experienced a death in my life’s ambitions. In those weeks and months following Micah’s death, we gained an eternal perspective on our lives and Micah’s short life, a perspective that put all of those ambitions, worldly cares and worldly concerns that I now spend some much time upon in their proper place—buried six feet under along with my oldest son’s remains. I think this type of death, this loss of self-absorption and personal ambition, is precisely what Christ calls us to, as His disciples. Jesus calls us to death—not merely physical, but to our own comforts and ambitions. “Truly, Truly, I say to you, unless a grain of wheat falls into the earth and dies, it remains alone; but if it dies, it bears much fruit.” John 12:24. About this verse, the Wycliffe Bible Commentary says, “Death is the key to spiritual fruitfulness.” In death, we have no choice but to follow after Christ, to trust in Him, and find His strength sufficient for us. Jesus says that “Whoever loves his life loses it, and whoever hates his life in this world will keep it for eternal life.” John 12:25. Will you join me in attempting to lose my own ambitions, in the hopes of gaining real and true life, in Christ?

Micah at 5 Years Old

Today marks our son Micah's 5th birthday. As in each of the past few years, we will mark his birthday later today by birthday cupcakes eaten by our living children, and after a birthday song, birthday candles blown out by Micah's exuberant (although somewhat confused) younger siblings. It's also typically marked by a visit to the grave and by a few tears. With each passing year, we've grown increasingly certain that while God has already used Micah's life and death to accomplish some good and noble purposes, we can't hope to possibly understand all those purposes on this side of eternity. As with most grieving parents, we yearn to know what those purposes are; to be able to offset the pain and anguish we have experienced by reason of his shortened life and death with tangible and noteworthy eternal purposes. We have already greatly benefitted from the knowledge of certain blessings that have arisen by reason of Micah's death. But we groan to know more. We groan to know what blessings have come to us and others by reason of these present sufferings. In one of the passages that Heather and I most frequently recite to one another in encouragement, Paul tells us, "For I consider that the sufferings of this present time are not worth comparing with the glory that is to be revealed to us. For the creation waits with eager longing for the revealing of the sons of God....And not only the creation, but we ourselves, who have the firstfruits of the Spirit, groan inwardly as we wait eagerly for adoption as sons, the redemption of our bodies. For in this hope we were saved..." Romans 8:18, 19, 23. Tonight, if you were in our home here in Minnetonka, you would hear the sound of children celebrating a birthday. But the overriding theme here is not one of celebration, as is the case with our other birthdays, but one of groaning. Just as in Paul's letter to the Romans, we have a heartfelt desire for what is ahead. For every human suffering through this present age, Christ is our only hope. For at that great day of Reunion, when Christ meets us face to face, we will have our greatest appetites for glory met in God, our thirst for significance in suffering fully satisfied in our Savior. We will see how all our sufferings, both large and small, were worked out in these past few temporal earthly days, and that our son Micah's short life on earth accomplished more than we can ever currently possibly conceive.

Update on Hope for the Mourning

This past Saturday, Heather and I hosted about 100 people at Nokomis Community Center in honor of Micah's Fifth Birthday. We were so appreciative of everyone who was able to attend. This year’s celebration was a significant milestone because it would have been his 5th birthday. How we wish he could be here to celebrate his own birthday with his three younger siblings. While nothing on this side of eternity can make up for his loss, we are always so encouraged by the friends and family members who attend in Micah’s honor. Once again, we feel so grateful for your love, encouragement and support. As most of you already know, Heather and I created the Micah Wessman Foundation in 2009 in order to assist other families grieving the death of a young child. Since October of 2011, the organization has been administered through the Hope for the Mourning website. The website includes a significant amount of teaching for parents grieving the loss of a young child, and includes links to outside resources. Additionally, the website provides the opportunity for grieving parents, or friends of grieving parents, to request that a care package be sent to them. This care package includes three books written on grief, all from a Christian perspective, and for those receiving gift cards in the United States, two restaurant gift cards. Since January 1, 2013, Hope for the Mourning has sent 63 care packages. While most of these care package requests come from the continental United States, we also have received requests from all around the world. By reason of these care packages, we have been blessed to communicate with numerous grieving parents. Now with three living children in our home, and my busy law practice, we wouldn’t be able to manage the logistics of the care package ministry without the support of my mom, Karen, who has taken on the responsibilities associated with the care packages. Thanks to her work, grieving parents from around the world are receiving care packages. Lord willing, we will continue to operate Hope for the Mourning and the care package ministry. As you might imagine, sending this number of care packages comes with significant costs. (One care package costs approximately $100). As always, the organization would be happy to receive donations of any amount, which of course are fully tax-deductible. Whether now, at year-end, or at any time in the future, please keep our organization in mind. On behalf of Heather, Owen, Brendan and Kinsley, thanks again for your love and support!

Casualties of War

I have recently been reading an historical account about the American military campaigns in North Africa and Italy in World War II. In it, much discussion centers around the decisions made by the American leadership, and whether the high level of "casualties" suffered by the Americans in various battles were worth the strategic benefits obtained. Until recently, I found it curious how a "war casualty” is calculated. A “casualty of war” is defined to include those killed, injured or displaced by war. I previously felt that the casualty of war figure was misleading because, in measuring the impact to a particular side of a particular battle, the number of soldiers killed is an altogether different impact than the number of soldiers injured or taken prisoner. But having lost a child (albeit not in a war), I believe that the "casulty of war" definition is in fact appropriate. As the particular account I have read demonstrates, the collateral damage to war extends far beyond simply those who died. Those suffering physical injuries during a battle (a) might not be able to return to battle at all and (b) regardless of whether they do, the impact of their physical injuries will impact them for the rest of their lives. Apart from physical injuries, how many thousands of war veterans suffer from post-traumatic stress disorder, either diagnosed or not, by reason of their involvement in the war. Trully, the negative impact of war experiences lasts a lifetime. Simillarly, it is nearly impossible to calculate the emotional and relational impact that a child’s death has on friends, families, communities. Just as I ignorantly limited a “war casualty” to a solider killed in battle, so also would it be ignorant to think that the only persons adversely impacted by the unexpected death of a child are the immediate family members. Grandparents of the deceased are left powerless to bring their child back from the dead, or to fully assuage the grief of their own children, the greiving parents. Friends and family members, who might previously have enjoyed close relationships with the greiving parents, lose the same ability to relate to their friends, the grieving parents. Work colleagues of the parents lose the drive and desire of the grieving parents as the mom or dadd shift their mental attention away from their careers in order to grieve. Even the physicians treating the child wonder how a life could have been saved had the child been treated differently. As we seek to minister to our fellow greiving parents, I think it is helpful to remember how broad the death impacts the communities and, as a result, be open to how the Lord is not only using a child's death to work on the hearts of the parents (certainly one "casualty") but also the broader community, many of whom are also "casualties" of the death of the child.

Redemptive Memory

Many grieving parents tend to “live in the past.”  They hold on to everything about those moments, now gone, that they shared with their children. If there is nothing outside of our selves, then I suppose this is right—those fleeting moments are all we have with our children. Unfortunately, as we can attest, if we focus exclusively on those wonderful, sweet memories of times with our children, we are also likely to focus at times on the circumstances surrounding the death of our child, including the terror and great grief.

But God does not view history the way we do.  In his book, A Grace Revealed, theologian Jerry Sittser describes the importance of using “redemptive memory” so that we can try to understand, at least in part, how God is using our history to shape us more like him.  “Redemption is worked out within the framework of time, which is why it is important to examine how God functions both within and beyond it.”  Sittser, Grace Revealed, 153.   Sittser, who himself lost his wife, mother and daughter in a car accident about twenty years ago, was able to come to the point where, while certainly not glad that the accident occurred, could see the numerous blessings to him and his family, from an eternal perspective, that arose from the accident. 

While we are stuck “inside” time, God views time as occurring instantaneously.  If we view human tragedy the way that God does, we cannot define a particular event based upon its impact at any one particular time. God is working for our good through sequences of moments that are intended to make us more like him.   Consider how water drips on a rock.  At any one particular point in time, there will be no felt or seen impact of that water on the rock. But over many years, and certainly many hundreds of years, the water will change the shape of the rock.  Similarly, God is using our history, both the tragic events, as well as the mundane, day-to-day trials, to make us more like him. 

The great news of the gospel is, among many other things, that we are part of the larger redemptive story and that no one event, however, tragic, can and should define us.  The cross, in itself, is the most egregious event every perpetrated on another human.  But Easter Sunday morning, and then Pentacost, and then two thousand years of the working of the Holy Spirit, and then our testimonies, demonstrate that the legacy of the Cross is not just the unjust sentence, the inhumane torture, and death.  It is the redemption of those who are called by God.  

In our case, the idea of “redemptive memory” does not mean that we should forget the great grief of how Micah died—how if, in any one of a number of instances, things would have gone differently, he would still be with us today.  But at the same time, it is far too early for me to write a definitive account of Micah’s life and legacy.  The way in which Micah died cannot be viewed as a self-contained event having meaning within itself.  It must be viewed along with the various and numerous grace-filled blessings that have arisen in our lives by reason of it. Just as the Cross of Christ cannot be viewed outside of its redemptive impact on human history, so also we grieving parents must view our child’s death in light of what God has done, and continues to do, by reason of his or her death.