Suffering, Grief, and Aaron

 

"Moses’ arms soon became so tired he could no longer hold them up. So Aaron and Hur found a stone for him to sit on. Then they stood on each side of Moses, holding up his hands. So his hands held steady until sunset." -Exodus 17:12

Sometimes we are asked to carry something that is far too heavy for us to bear. Sometimes our grief is such a burden that we do not think we can survive under the crushing weight of it. Sometimes we are called to suffer far more than we ever thought possible. 

I have been called to such things. Maybe you have too?

When my husband died, my entire world shattered. Nothing looked the same anymore, nothing meant the same either. How do you survive such devastation? How do you pray when there are no words? How do you heal when there is no hope? How do you love when your heart is broken beyond recognition?

But, when devastation hit, my Aarons and my Hurs surrounded me. They picked up the pieces and put them in a safe place until I was ready to put them back together. They spoke when I could not speak. They held my arms up when I was so weak that I could no longer bear it. 

I could give you a thousand examples of how my friends and family stepped up, set aside their own needs and grief, in order to enable my grief and healing. 

Now, so many months later, I am in a a grace-filled place of healing and hope. The miracle that God has performed inside my soul has been life-altering. The years of preparation for such a time as this is the most beautiful example of Romans 8:28 "He works all things together for the good of those who love Him, and are called, according to His purposes."

But my Aarons and my Hurs were not unaffected. In small ways, and in large ways, they all set aside what their hearts needed in order to supply me with what I needed. What a sacrificial love they showed me...the true hands and feet of Jesus in action. 

I am finding that somehow I have moved forward before some them. The people I love are hurting. How unfair it seems. They sacrificed so much for me, to bring me to this healed place. And, as a result, they've had to deny their own healing, so they could focus on me. And now, they are entering into their place of grief, the sacred place where suffering and joy collide until the Lord soothes your soul with peace and understanding.

I'm so incredibly sorry that life is unfair. I am sorry that it must feel like I'm moving forward without you, that, maybe, you aren't quite ready for this. 

I love you, my Aaron, my deepest friend, my person. I am sorry that you lost John too. I am sorry that life has dealt us so many blows. I am sorry that you had to be my Aaron, when you needed one of your own.

But I am so very thankful for you. Thank you for sleeping beside me in my large, empty bed. Thank you for holding my hand every step of the way. Thank you for crying with me, and for laughing with me. Thank you for your sacrifices. Not a moment was unnoticed or unappreciated. 

Thank you, my Hur, for handling everything, for being my wisdom and my steady voice. I am so sorry that life hurt you too. Thank you for being the same person you always were, even though you're forever changed. Thank you for the life you so graciously shared with me when I was lacking in one. 

The world looks at those in grief and says "do whatever it takes to survive". There seems to be some sort of agreement, in suffering, that those who are broken are allowed to behave however they need to, in order to heal. My goodness, what a self-centered approach to a most holy of worldly experiences. There are still rights and wrongs in healing. There is still selfishness and sin in grief. And, despite what the world would tell you, we have a choice in every moment. 

I cannot look about me, at my Aarons and my Hurs, see their hurt, and live my life as if I am the only that that matters, or hurts. I refuse to continue to move when they need help. I am not living in this life alone, and I am not the most important person in my life. I have made the choice to live in companionship with these souls. To sacrifice for them, as they do for me. 

They were my Aaron and Hur when I needed them. Without hesitation and restraint, they sacrificed their own healing for my own. 

And now, it is my turn to be their Aaron. I will hold your arms up, my friends, as you did mine. 

What an amazing God we have that enables us to love each other in such ways. The Holy Spirit fills our hearts and gives us the freedom to choose to serve in ways that seem impossible. And  yet, here we are, doing it every day. I'm amazed that the level of sacrifice my friends and family showed during such heartbroken times. If I can show them even a portion of that same love, the Holy Spirit will move in such amazing ways. 

Cultivate your lives my friends. Engage with your Aarons and Hurs. Community is not something that happens. It takes love and sacrifice. Make and effort, share your hurts and your joys. It matters. It makes a difference.

And remember, we are not always Moses, sometimes we need to be Aaron.