State of Shock (Sudden Death Pt. 2)

My members were walking in the doors for worship and prayer and I was walking out in numbness and shock. My only thought was, “I gotta get down to Florida.” The numbness reminds me of a story in the Bible that probably best displays the shock of loss that a person experiences when they lose a loved one to death.

Soon afterward, Jesus went to a town called Nain, and his disciples and a

large crowd went along with him. As he approached the town gate, a dead

person was being carried out—the only son of his mother, and she was

a widow. And a large crowd from the town was with her. When the Lord

saw her, his heart went out to her and he said, “Don’t cry.” Then he went

up and touched the bier they were carrying him on, and the bearers stood

still. He said, “Young man, I say to you, get up!” The dead man sat up

and began to talk, and Jesus gave him back to his mother. 

(Luke 7:11-15NIV)

Jesus is surrounded by a massive crowd, which is no surprise because everywhere Jesus goes a large crowd follows. He's the equivalent of a modern-day superstar in that everywhere He goes, He gets mobbed by people. They've heard of His miracles and many of them want to see it for themselves. He travels all the time and so there's no telling when or if He'll ever come here again. Many come to see, but some come to be healed themselves. Some come to bring their friends and family to be healed. Some come to hear Him teach about the Kingdom of God. They say he speaks like no other man who has ever lived. He's different. Man believe that He's the promised one, the Redeemer, the Messiah. Thus, they followed Him everywhere.

On this particular day Jesus is entering the city of Nain, a small village town just southeast of Nazareth. The twelve disciples are by His side and the usual crowd of expectant onlookers are close behind. They're approaching the city gateway and while they're coming in brimming with excitement and expectancy, there's another crowd coming out with weeping and wailing. It's a funeral procession. Talk about bad timing...or is it?

Let me pause right here and remind you that I said I don't like funerals...at all. I realize that Nobody likes funerals. But I don't like them at all. I actually detest funerals. I suppose that might be a bit disconcerting for someone to hear how much their pastor hates funerals. Sad, it is; but it's true. I have a really hard time ministering at funerals. Pastors are often invited to share in the ministerial duties at funerals. I always go, but I have a really hard time maintaining my composure while sitting up behind the pulpit. I think it's because I hate seeing people suffer pain of any kind. I remember assisting in a funeral for two little boys who died in a fire. They were so small that they placed both of them in one casket. I didn't even view their little bodies. I walked right past the casket. They asked me to give words of encouragement to the family. I did, but I struggled to conceal my anguish during the entire funeral. I was a mess.

Jesus and His followers meet this funeral procession just as it is leaving the city. In ancient Jewish culture, dead bodies are considered unclean and thus they must be removed from the community. Thus, Jews were always funeralized and buried outside the city limits so that the community wouldn't become “defiled” by death. Not only that, but funerals took place abruptly after a person died for the same reason. Thus the processional outside of the city was an integral part of the actual funeral. People are crying, and screaming as they walk alongside the coffin to the burial place. Their is a fairly large group; some are relatives. Some are neighbors. Some are just nosey. And there are even some who are paid to come and cry out loud in order to show that the dead person was greatly loved.

In the midst of this whirlwind of a scene is the family, yet only one family member is mentioned. It's the mother of the deceased and their something about her that makes this an even more tragic scene. The Bible says that this (the one who died) is her only son. That's sad.

I remember hearing something about the military not accepting war volunteers who had no other siblings. There is something terrible about losing your only child to death. But that's not all.

The Bible says, “and she was a widow” (Lk. 7:12 NIV) Luke tosses in that extra detail to turn the knife and drive it in a little deeper. She had lost her son, possibly that very same day and top of that she was already dealing with the loss of her husband. And all of a sudden she's alone. No companion. No children. Just her; in a wicked and cruel world. What's ironic is that she 's surrounded by people, but she's still all alone.

Have you ever felt like that? Have you ever been surrounded by people and still felt terribly lonely? Have you ever lost a loved one that was so close to you that you all of a sudden felt alone in the world? Have you loved someone so deeply only to lose them to death and then feel like you could never love anyone like that again? I am convinced that death and loneliness are close relatives. When death shows up, loneliness is likely close behind. Even in cases where one is not actually alone after the loss of a loved one, there might be the feeling or sense of being alone in the world—like no one cares. No one understands.

Here's another question: Have you ever had someone walk up to you at a funeral and tell you, “I know how you feel?”

“How could you possibly know how I feel? Have you ever had your only son die? Have you ever had your husband die? Have you ever had both, your only son and your husband die? Probably not. So how could you possibly know how I feel? But maybe you have (by some stretch of the imagination) had the same general experience. You still can't imagine the deep emotional nuances of my relationship with the two of them and how it effects me right now to have lost both of them. You have no earthly idea how I feel right now.”

It's in these moments that you actually want to be alone. You just want to be left completely to yourself. You don't want to be bothered by anyone. So yes this is sad and people are crying, but how many of these people are actually able to comprehend the position she's in right now?

But there's more. We have no way of knowing when or how her husband died, but that doesn't even matter. Just think of it like this. There was no women's lib movement, and the welfare system was totally different. Therefore, it was going to be really hard without him. But at least she has her son to carry on the family name, the family business, and care for her in her old age. But that's the problem.

Now he's gone too. Who's going to look after her? Who's going to provide for her? Who's going to protect her? Can you sense the loneliness creeping in?

My eldest brother died when I was a little boy. He drowned in a boating accident while serving in the Air Force. As the story goes, he went out for a weekend trip with some of his service buddies. He lost his footing and fell off of the edge of the boat, and his friends couldn't save him. While I don't know all of the details of what happened, I can tell you exactly how it affected our family. We were devastated. It was an extremely sad time for all of us. But no one took it as hard as my mom. She cried a whole lot, and I'm sure she suffered a great deal of depression as a result.

It's from this experience that I learned a bit about how painful it is for a parent to lose a child. While I personally haven't sustained that level of loss; I watched it's havoc every day as it unraveled it's tentacles in the life of my mom and our family. There is something terribly backwards about losing a child. You intend to die and leave them to live out your legacy. They are your posterity. And without them your name and family line ceases forever. It's not fair. It's not right. But this is where the widow is; and it's all happening so fast.

She hasn't had time to think and plan, but all of this walking and screaming and crying is making her even more anxious, and agitated, and angry. She just wants everything to slow down. Everybody be quiet! Everybody stop! But nobody is listening to her. She's so angry that she starts breaking down and the tears start to flow. And that's when Jesus walks right up to her and says, “Don't cry” (Lk. 7:13 NIV). It seems like an outlandish command, but when she looks into His eyes, she knows that He's no ordinary man. She can feel the deep warmth of care and concern from the look in His eyes. Yet, without even saying a word, He turns to the coffin and does what no other priest, pharisee, or rabbi noble dare. He reaches out to touch the coffin and the both processions come to a screeching halt. The entire crowd of disciples draws a gasping breath. Some begin to whisper wondering what Jesus must be thinking. Nevertheless, His thoughts are crystal clear.

He thinks only of this mourning mother and the great want that He intends to restore. He thinks of her many needs that will definitely go unheeded and possibly even unnoticed. He's thinking about her husband and how much He wished she didn't have to stomach such a loss. He's thinking about turning her grief into joy.

And thus here surfaces a grand maxim: Jesus cares! When no one else takes the time to listen or understand—Jesus cares. When there is distress, strife, pain, and loss—Jesus cares. No matter how traumatic or tragic—Jesus cares. Jesus knows and Jesus cares!