He Knows My Loss
Scripture Reading: Luke 7:11-23
Meditation
For the widow from the village Nain, the death of her only son represents loss upon loss.
As her son’s funeral procession makes it way toward the village cemetery, the widow carries a double burden. She’s walked the path from her home to the graveyard once before. Not long ago, she sorrowfully followed her husband’s coffin.
Now her son’s pallbearers lead the way.
Tears for her son mix with new tears for her husband. Grief is revisited. As she wails for one, she weeps for the other. Grief is multiplied. There is no longer a man in her family. No husband to provide for her. No son to protect her. Neither will return at the end of the day, sit at her table, share a meal, and talk until heavy eyes and a weary body give way.
Her heart mirrors her home: empty, hollow, so much room and yet no one to fill the space.
She’s alone—husbandless and childless.
The second walk to the cemetery is worse than the first. Though the death of her husband was a violent blow, at least her son was there to help absorb the pain. As they walked to the graveyard, he was there by her side. Together they wept. Together they said their “goodbyes.” And when the funeral was over they walked home, together. Theirs was shared loss, shared sorrow, and shared comfort.
Today she walks the path alone.
But, as she walks, she doesn’t know that her son’s funeral procession will never reach the cemetery. It will end at the village gate.
Not long after that, Jesus went to the village Nain. His disciples were with him, along with quite a large crowd. As they approached the village gate, they met a funeral procession—a woman’s only son was being carried out for burial. And the mother was a widow. When Jesus saw her, his heart broke. He said to her, “Don’t cry.”1
When Jesus sees the sobbing widow drowning in her grief, buoyed up only by the arms of her friends, he jumps into the depths her sorrow. He suffers with her. Her tears become his tears. Her pain is his pain. Her loss, his loss. His heart breaks and floods with compassion. As he wipes the tears from her cheeks, he whispers softly in her ear,
“Don’t cry.”
Jesus’ words are more than a whisper of solace. They intend more than a one-time, well-meaning phrase of comfort or an awkward, yet authentic, attempt at consolation. His words are a promise—lights perforating the darkness, a blazing foreshadow of the miraculous, a revelation of things soon to come. When Jesus speaks, there is substance behind his words.
Life. Hope.
Then he went over and touched the coffin. The pallbearers stopped. He said, “Young man, I tell you: Get up.”2
As Jesus touches the coffin, he risks defilement. The Law clearly says,
Anyone out in the open field who touches a corpse, whether dead from violent or natural causes, or a human bone or a grave is unclean for seven days.3
But when Jesus touches the coffin, the only thing that’s defiled is death.
The dead son sat up and began talking. Jesus presented him to his mother.4
Jesus does more than wipe away the widow’s tears; he goes to grief’s source and stops the flow. He dives deep, down to the spring of her pain. He finds the dear one that is lost and does battle with the legions of Hades. Freeing the son of the widow from the grip of death, he presents him back to his mother.
No more tears.
A quiet awe hovers over the crowd. The only sound comes from the coffin. Still dressed in his burial clothes, the resurrected son sits up, turns, and begins to talk to his mother.
They all realized they were in a place of holy mystery, that God was at work among them. They were quietly worshipful—and then noisily grateful, calling out among themselves, “God is back, looking to the needs of his people!” The news of Jesus spread all through the country.5
It’s evident that God is present. He’s active, working among his people. Help from heaven has come. God is walking among his creation and he’s looking to the needs of his people. Jesus has to be the One—the Messiah that Israel has been waiting for.
In him,
The blind see,
The lame walk,
Lepers are cleansed,
The deaf hear,
The dead are raised,
The wretched of the earth
have God’s salvation hospitality extended to them.6
Whatever the loss, the Messiah’s heart breaks. Pushed by compassion, he jumps into the depths of sorrow. He suffers with those who hurt and shares their pain. And then, in the midst of the tears, he gives a gentle stroke of his hand and whispers a promise,
“Don’t cry.”
Reflection
What loss are you mourning? When Jesus looks at your life, what makes his heart break?
How has Jesus shown you his compassion? How has he whispered, “Don’t cry”?
What work of Christ has made you say, “God is back, looking to the needs of his people”?
Describe your “place of holy mystery”—a place where you are “quietly worshipful and then noisily grateful”?
Prayer
Father,
Your Son is a Savior full of compassion.
Whenever one of your children experiences a loss, Jesus’ heart breaks. He cries tears. He shares in the pain. And in the loss he says, “Don’t cry.” He offers words of comfort that drowning hearts can hold on to because in, with, and under the words is a promise: he is a Savior who is actively at work, looking out for the needs of his people.
During this day, I need to feel the hand of Christ stroke my cheek. I so desperately need to hear him whisper in my ear, “Don’t cry.” I have many losses and they bring me great pain. Assure me that, in Jesus, help from heaven has come—God is looking out for my needs. And when he touches my life, may I recognize that moment as a place of holy mystery—God is working. Help me be quietly worshipful and then noisily grateful.
It’s in your Son’s name that I pray. Amen.
1Luke 7:11-13 2Luke 7:14 3Numbers 19:16 4Luke 7:15
5Luke 7:16-17 6Luke 7:22
All Scripture references in the meditation are marked by italics and are taken from the Gospel reading for the day. Those verses quoted outside of the chosen reading for the day are noted. All Scripture quoted in this post is taken from THE MESSAGE: Copyright © 1993, 1994, 1995, 2000, 2001 & 2002. Used by permission of NavPress Publishing Group. All rights reserved.