One year ago today I lay me down to sleep. I had gone to the football game, as I did every Saturday, then to a movie with friends—Interstellar if I recall. Late into the night I lay my head upon my pillow—not knowing that mere miles away a terrible accident had happened, and you had slipped into eternity.
The next morning I woke to ringing, but it wasn’t my alarm. In that moment, in those few raspy words, everything changed. The next week felt as long as the fifty-one weeks that followed, combined. As we were sad and heartbroken, I suspect you were filled with joy because Jesus was honored through the pain, and life was poured out in the midst of death.
As we lowered you into the ground, God raised many eyes towards the Cross, where they beheld the One who had also been lowered, and yet is raised to everlasting Life. So you also have found Life. And this Life is beyond anything our broken minds could conceive. I suppose if you could whisper one thing to us now you would say, “Look to the Cross!”, for only there was death defeated. Only there was hope secured. Only there did sin’s greatest victory become Love’s truest conquest. And only there can beggars become kings.
Fifty-two weeks have never seemed so long, my dear friend. But for you I know they have only seemed like a wisp, as you marvel in the beauty of the One who gave you such a Life that death could never rob.
Fifty-two more weeks will come and go—and centuries after that—but these two things will never change:
One, that we are best friends, and two, that we are united by a Christ who is able to save to the uttermost those who are His.