Real Moments
Harvest of Asher
Akko, Israel
There are moments when the fragility of life is no longer a distant thought but becomes a reality that touches us deeply. One phone call, one piece of news, and someone who was part of our lives is suddenly no longer here. The world continues around us while something inside cannot.
“Man is like a breath; his days are like a passing shadow.” (Psalm 144:4)
The Scriptures do not hide from the fragility of life, nor soften the reality of loss. The Tanakh (Old Testament) is filled with people who walked with God, loved Him and trusted Him; and yet knew pain, separation and grief. Their faith did not keep them from weeping. Precisely within our tears faith becomes most real – we come before God as we are, without answers and without pretense.
Job is one of the profoundest examples of this.
Jacob also knew deep grief. When he was convinced that his son Joseph was dead, “All his sons and all his daughters arose to comfort him, but he refused to be comforted” (Genesis 37:35).
The Scriptures make room even for bitterness. Naomi returned to Bethlehem without her husband and two sons, saying: “Do not call me Naomi; call me Mara (bitter), for the Almighty has dealt very bitterly with me” (Ruth 1:20).
David knew the pain of a father who lost a son and cried out, “If only I had died instead of you, Absalom, my son, my son!” (2 Samuel 18:33).
There is a time to weep and mourn; and we cannot rush the process (Ecclesiastes 3:4). Tears are not evidence of a lack of faith. Yeshua Himself wept at the tomb of Lazarus.
God doesn’t remain distant from our pain. He is near to us within it. “Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for You are with me” (Psalm 23:4).
Loss also reminds us how precious life is. Knowing that our days are limited can teach us not to postpone love (Psalm 90:12). To forgive. To ask forgiveness. To embrace. To say thank you. To be present in the lives of the people God has given us.
This is our Messianic hope. It is not a denial of death, nor an attempt to diminish the pain of separation. It is the faith that death will not have the final word. Yeshua Himself died and rose from the dead. Therefore, Paul writes to believers who were grieving those dear to them: “For if we believe that Yeshua died and rose again, even so God will bring with Him those who sleep in Yeshua” (1 Thessalonians 4:14).
In recent years, I have experienced the passing of many dear ones – people whose physical hearts once beat near me, who loved, spoke, laughed and shared meals with us. Today the chairs where they once sat are empty.
The chairs may be unoccupied, and my heart may still long for those who once filled them; but my hope is not empty. I have faith that we will meet again with our Lord. Until then, I carry them in memory, in love and in gratitude, allowing the Holy Spirit to remind me that love has not been lost.
The tears are real. The longing is real. But the hope is real as well. Yeshua said, “I am the resurrection and the life” (John 11:25). In Him I choose to hold fast, even as I look upon the empty chairs.
