Verse: 1 Thessalonians 4:13-18
Brothers and sisters, we do not want you to be uninformed about those who sleep in death, so that you do not grieve like the rest of mankind, who have no hope. For we believe that Jesus died and rose again, and so we believe that God will bring with Jesus those who have fallen asleep in him. According to the Lord’s word, we tell you that we who are still alive, who are left until the coming of the Lord, will certainly not precede those who have fallen asleep. For the Lord himself will come down from heaven, with a loud command, with the voice of the archangel and with the trumpet call of God, and the dead in Christ will rise first. After that, we who are still alive and are left will be caught up together with them in the clouds to meet the Lord in the air. And so we will be with the Lord forever. Therefore encourage one another with these words.
Devotion
The instruction here is to encourage one another with these words. The words that tell us that though we grieve for those we’ve lost, we shouldn’t grieve without hope.
I’m just trying to work my way around it. This book seems so down to earth, A mentor and friend writing to his friends and mentees, so full of familiarity and practical wisdom and encouragement. The things he addresses feel to me like just what they are needing to hear. I imagine these verses are no exception. They must be grieving the loss of someone dear. He must know they are struggling with their grief.
I mean, grief IS a struggle, a push and pull of guilt, pain, loss, fear, confusion, anger, denial, all that mess. I’m feeling all those things in some oddly timed bursts this month, for whatever reason. I lost my Mom 3 years ago this May. But there is a sort of unreality, a dreamlike quality that can prevail in the time directly after a loss. That surrealism would cause me to joke with my sister about that long retreat Mom was on, feeling it so very possible and normal that she would just reappear any day now… and we would get back to life as we knew it. Perhaps I’m finally figuring out in the deepest part of my heart what I’ve known for three years in my head, that I won’t see her again in this life.
But I do have hope. Because she loved Jesus, and she was ready to go. She was peaceful. She smiled and sang and said loving things to all the people who gathered around her. I know unequivocally that she is truly home and filled with joy. And at some point, I will be with her. I can’t imagine what that will be like. But even in the places where you doubt that, or it seems like an empty promise, cling to this letter from a friend, that there IS hope, that the love and loss you may feel for someone who is now gone, doesn’t just evaporate into nothing. The love that cracks us wide open and shivering with exposure, it’s not wasted. Our hearts get rebuilt a little bigger and stronger. For loving more while we are here on Earth.
And lastly, the promise is about us. That we will be with the Lord. And we will not have to suffer any more emptiness.
Prayer
Thank you, Lord, for your promises to us. For extending to us what we don’t deserve. Comfort the hearts of those who are grieving, with the knowledge of your care for our hearts and our pain. Draw us close. Amen.
Author: Emily Costa
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