It just doesn't make any sense...

I have been astounded by the number of women I have connected with the last 6 months due to experiencing the loss of a child.  You only have to hear "I had a miscarriage too" or "I lost a baby too", and instantly there is is the deep, general understanding, empathy, and comfort.  You don't have to talk about how you had to go through painful labors, or talk about the horror experienced when seeing death on an ultrasound, or talk about how your stomach drops when the reality hits you, or talk about wondering if you are going to pass your baby in your bathroom, or talk about walking out of the hospital after surgery numb from the fact your baby was just removed from you.

I have heard of 3 people in the last week who have lost their little babies: one 9 hours old, one 19 days old, and one 11 months old.  I had tears streaming down my face as I read or heard about their stories, knowing I couldn't imagine losing a child I had physically held, one I had to pick out a tiny casket, or one I had to plan a funeral for.  When I was little, I remember the very first funeral I ever attended was when I was 4.  Two little children from the same family in our church were killed in a car accident, one 2 years old, one 6 years old.  I remember seeing my dad and mom sobbing on the couch when they got the news, and I remember seeing my sobbing mom hug the father of the children at the viewing.  I remember all of that, and I was only 4 years old.  It was because it didn't make any sense.  At our church growing up, there was a tragically a huge amount of baby deaths, especially from stillbirths.  I remember my dad saying that it was sad but understandable to go to older people's funerals, but there was something inexplicably tragic about going to so many baby funerals.  When you hear these stories, you can't help but think:  This just doesn't make sense.  Why these precious, innocent little babies or children?  When you hear the massive number of women experiencing miscarriages and infertility struggles, you can't help by think:  This just doesn't make sense.  Death is an unspeakably difficult, dreaded, and hated thing anyway.  Add in the fact that it was a baby or child makes it even more incomprehensible.  In our human minds, we try to make sense of it.  Many turn away from God after experiencing this, and no one can necessarily blame them.  How could God, who we believed was in control of everything, have this happen?  How could He permit/allow/purpose that these little ones we love SO deeply to be taken away?  You sometimes here the answers of "He has a purpose", or "We don't know why, but He promises to walk this journey with us", or "He is going to use you in some mighty way or teach you something".  These may all be completely true, but it still doesn't change the fact that it doesn't make sense to ME.  

As Easter came this year, it was a very different one.  The night of Palm Sunday was one of the first nights I truly let grief come.  I had been letting myself cry here or there throughout the months, but I sobbed for hours that night, as I was finally accepting that this was all very real.  As I did my devotions throughout the holy week, I obviously tried to keep my focus on Jesus, his unspeakable pain and sacrifice for me, and how his death and resurrection brings me hope.  However, as I was studying, I realized that I had never truly looked at Easter from God's perspective rather than only Jesus'.  The truth of this change in perspective came like an overwhelming flood to my soul and heart.

God's Son literally died.  He literally lost his child.  He knew EXACTLY how I was feeling.  Just like I had those connections with women, this overwhelming connection came, as I truly was understanding that all the pain and hurt I was feeling was COMPLETELY understood by God, not just because He is an all-knowing God, but because HE had already walked this journey Himself.   

I would have NEVER chose this path.  I would have never given up Rex on purpose.  I know other mothers who lost their children would NEVER choose for them to die.  That would be absurd.  But even more than that, I would NEVER choose for Rex to die instead of a person who was infinitely evil to live.  That just doesn't make sense.

But God literally chose for His Son to die.  He chose for his Son to be horrifically tortured, beaten, and crucified.  He chose to replace His Son's PERFECT righteousness with the vile, evil, and eternal punishment of sinners.  HE chose to give His own Son the eternal punishment of hell that these sinners deserved instead.  That just doesn't make sense.

I realized that losing a child is one of the greatest ways to grow closer to God instead of turning from Him.  In the strangest of ways, the loss of a child is one of the deepest and most profound invitations to have a deeper taste into the essence of the Gospel.  Why would God have His Son die?  Why would he choose this incomprehensible pain for Himself?  The answer just doesn't make sense.  The pain we feel in losing a child shows us just a glimpse of how much He truly loves us.  

It's ok that we cling to the fact that losing a child just doesn't make sense.  I've realized how thankful I am that it doesn't.  Because if it did, God would not have put Himself through that either.    If it made sense, He would have given eternal damnation to sinners who deserved death due to their sins.  He would have given us what we deserved.  He wouldn't have sent His own Son.  He wouldn't have defeated death so we can see our children again.   He wouldn't have secured eternal salvation and joy for all who believe in Him.

I will meet my little Rex in eternal joy someday despite the fact that his death just doesn't make any sense now.  But someday it will.  In the meantime, I turn my eyes to the Gospel of Jesus Christ, the one that gloriously and mercifully just doesn't make any sense.