I’ve died three times now. Twice, in the first impact of a serious accident, when my life stopped and seemed to flash before me, and once, on this day, five years ago. Physically, I’m still here, but emotionally & mentally, some part of me is gone now. It’s as if I live in this world and the future world at the same time.
That first night, Beth and I didn’t get any sleep. The pain was so great that as I stared at the wall beside my bed, the seconds seem to hang in the darkness; I could count each one. For years afterwords, the pain and sense of loss was always with me, coloring everything I felt and thought. I would start abruptly sometimes, having realized that I had lived for an entire hour without thinking of the son who was gone. In the last year or two, that pain has faded, leaving something deep and in the shadows, as if an enormous depression were imprinted on my soul, like a shallow valley among the mountains. I suppose it will always be there, until I am gone, too.
“Now he is not God of the dead, but of the living, for all live to him.” Jesus the Christ, Whose tomb lies empty… Luke 20:38
This is our hope, today and every day. If God Himself declares that Andrew lives, who are we (or you) to say otherwise?