July 1, 2010
Thoughts on Ava and Jesus
Posted by Isaac Hunter
When my niece is awake at the hospital, she asks me to tell her stories. She also asks me not to sing. (She has a discerning ear from an early age… I have been dismissed from worship auditions several times at Summit.) Last night, when I ran out of original fairy tale material, I repeated nursery rhymes for her while simultaneously cooking up new yarns to spin about Princess Avabina and her wise and handsome uncle, King Izako. (Thinly veiled? Yes… but it’s my fairy tale.)
One of the nursery rhymes I rehearsed last night for filler: Humpty-Dumpty. You remember it. The poor egg shaped fellow who had the bad tumble and broke all to pieces. His king, whoever he was, must have been a good fellow. He sent his horses and men—all of them—to put Humpty back together. Sadly, they weren’t up to the task.
I suppose the king would have gone himself if he thought it would have done any good. But, he was just a man (possibly an egg-man), but a man nonetheless. Men have their limits.
When I got home from the hospital this morning, I thought of the best king we know from the Old Testament, David. He was not egg-man king, but a very great king and a pretty good man. He said at one point that he would have traded his very life for his son’s, Absalom, “O my son Absalom, my son, my son Absalom! Would I had died instead of you, O Absalom, my son, my son!” But, of course, he couldn’t. Men, even kings, have their limits.
I sat in that hospital room last night when she was hurting knowing Josh and Lisa, or any member of our family would literally give anything to trade places with her. But, we can’t. We are not big enough to get that small. We can walk with her. We can stand by her. But, we can’t trade places with her. Men have their limits.
…
There may not be a more visceral and unrelenting sorrow than that of a father and mother who cannot stop a disease that is threatening the life of their child….
Do you know what my brother said to me yesterday? He said, “Sometimes scripture prepares you for stuff that you don’t even think about… The Father watching his Son go to the Cross and choosing to let it happen—the agony of it all. I can’t bear to watch my little girl suffer, and I can’t do a thing about it. This I would never choose. He did—and I don’t know why Ava or why not Ava… I don’t wish it was someone else, I wish it was no one. But I am grateful for God’s love. I see it different now.” (Gratitude and grief are difficult to convey on paper. As soon as the words are penned, they seem a trifle compared to the actual thing. But, I saw both in full.)
Here is truth: the only One in the entire universe who can take our place—did. Mere men or kings (historical or fairy tale) can’t swap fates… That sort of thing required a God. Jesus knew this, and “the Word became flesh and dwelt among us.”
It doesn’t mean that this world isn’t full of sorrows—it is. But, this world is not all there is… this life is not all there is… One day Ava will be whole, healed, and restored. I pray it’s tomorrow, but forever will always be more important than tomorrow, and today is what we’ve got. There is a kind of gratitude that only those who mourn can know.
Is. 53:4 Surely our griefs He Himself bore, and our sorrows He carried…
