The Hard Hallelujah -- A Guest Post by Duane Scott
>> Wednesday, September 7, 2011 –
grief,
guest posts
I am delighted to feature friend and fellow writer Duane Scott here today. Duane feels and lives life deeply, and it's more than obvious from his heartfelt and eloquent prose. You can find Duane at his own blog, and on Facebook and Twitter, as well as at BibleDude, where he is a contributing editor.
Here's Duane, writing about the most difficult of topics: grief.
I move silently through the tear-streaked faces to stand as close to heaven as I can, and for a moment, I catch a glimpse of life beyond this earth.
Before me lies a loved one, eyes closed to this world as though I’ve only whispered goodnight moments before; and I wonder if it could possibly, if only, just be a dream in which I can wake from.
But the pain throbbing deep within reminds me I am awake, so I swallow the lump in my throat and do the little I can to make sense of this world below.
"They're in a better place," I whisper to those close by, the words feeling weak within my mouth but I say them anyway.
In hushed tones, I whisper a final good-bye and make my way back to the pew, the choir's soft voices floating like a healing balm about me, and I wonder if I will ever feel healed this side of heaven again.
The choir struggles to sing as the scene unfolds.
As they, and I along with them, witness heaven and earth collide.
Because this is the hard hallelujah to sing.
Yet through the sadness, I know one more of God's children is home. I think of life renewed. I think of being home. And amidst the tears, I convince myself that l will, indeed, be okay.
But at night, when all is silent and the darkness creeps in about me, I can’t help but question Him. “Lord, I know you have a plan,” I whisper over and over again, but do I truly believe it? And if I did, would this ache within not slowly cease to exist? Would my life not be filled with a clear purpose?
So here on earth, long after my loved one has been lain to rest, I struggle to find my feet, and when I finally do, I still struggle to stand on my own.
"Does the pain ever go away?" she asks me nearly four months after her toddler was called home and I pray desperately for the right words to say.
"No. It probably never will. But each time the sun rises in the morning, God will fill each day with purpose just for you, and slowly, the hurt will be a little less," I say to her, and although my mouth is moving, I know these words are not mine, but God's.
Because I need to hear them too.
I’m learning to sing the hard hallelujah.
Photo by Duane Scott.
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This is a beautiful life-changing post. None of want to sing the hard hallelujah but trials come anyway. Oh how I pray I praise my way through the pain.
God gave you good words for the hard hallelujah, Duane. Thank you for sharing them with us.
Thank you, Michelle, for hosting Duane here. I think those of us who follow Jesus know the theological truth about heaven being a place of eternal joy, beauty, and rest. The truth doesn't always lessen the pain here on this side of eternity. Death remains an enemy, the final one to be defeated. Beautiful writing, Duane.
Beautiful!
Losing a child--that's the biggie.
Four months is nothing. Nothing. Things shift after the first year, but it's a shift, not an end. A realignment, if you will.
In our fifth year of grief, I now sometimes notice Rich mentioning his son and smiling.
It doesn't go away. But it does change over time.I don't know how people who lack faith could bear it.
Knowing that he is there no matter what is comforting and beautiful
At the time, I wondered the same thing. I looked around at the funeral and I noticed that everyone was reaching out to God even though not a single person there could explain why God would request a playdate so soon with that little boy.
Beautiful, Duane. I've come to believe over the years that you never "get over" the death of a loved one. We were not designed to get over it. We were created for eternity and we look forward to the day we seem them again. That's just one of the beauties of hope. Their death becomes a part of who we are, (it shapes us) and we are better because of it.
Thank you Nancy. Yes, we all know about heaven, but when you turn back to your car and leave that little boy on an Alabama hillside, it's hard to think about.
Those things you speak of are what call us to the other side. God intended it to be that way, I think. Thanks for stopping by!
We laugh, we mourn, we cry, we struggle, we claim victory... and through every instance God has a purpose and plan for us.
I cannot begin to understand why everything happens the way it does. Frankly most times, it makes little sense to me. But I know and I trust in God who is faithful and true.
And I sing the hard Hallelujahs.
I realized a couple of days ago that it has been 7 years since my aunt passed away... in a couple more days, it's going to be 8 years since my grandma went Home. The pain does decrease with time, yet it doesn't go away. However, it does help to know that the life is not simply over.
Gorgeous. Thank you, Duane.
Beautiful post, Duane.
My older sister died before I was born. Even 41 years later, my parents still feel a bit sad when they talk about it.
They know she's with the Lord, but they will always miss her until they meet again.
wow...duane...just wow....
Thanks for showing us how to experience grief and hope all mixed up together. There is so much more to God and His ways than we can comprehend, but He understands our grief and our humanness, too. Bless you, Duane.
Linda
WOW...you put into words what so many want to put into words. Death is a part of life, although a difficult passage to observe, and as we approach the 10th anniversary of the September 11 tragedy, many will continue to sing the hard hallelujah! Thank you for your post....and God bless your family as you continue to seek peace through the loss of your precious nephew! Isaiah 40:31 (I posted this on Duane's blog too..)
I love how God gives us His words when we have none of our own.
I would like to imagine that "hard hallelujahs" are some of the sweetest sounds to God's ears.
Another beautiful post, friend.
I should not have read this at work. I'm only a few weeks removed from this scene myself.
Oh Jason Vana ...
My heart goes out to you. I know how that is, those weeks right after. It seems life just plods along at a snail pace. And it's hard to pick up your head and sing the hard hallelujahs.
I'm praying for you today.
And if I were there, you and I, we'd hang out.
And we'd go eat fried twinkies because I'm hungry for them now.
Chin up. Soldier on.
-Duane Scott
Duane, I thought this post was so beautiful I put the link in my own post today. This post was so real, so poignant. Grief I could feel....My prayers to your family and those dear parents. Lori
Megan,
I hope they do. The family that lost their little boy is really struggling to sing the hard hallelujah today.
Thank you for commenting Patricia. It's nice to "meet" you.
"to pray that we can praise through the pain."
The 3 P's of Life. Pray. Praise. Pain. ~ They should go together, shouldn't they!
Thank you for sharing @0931dbe3a80ee7be1e39bb3e2db0b35c ... I pray it can help someone that needs it. :)
I need to come back @0931dbe3a80ee7be1e39bb3e2db0b35c and share your link. Everyone should be reading this today: http://lorisprayercloset.blogspot.com/2011/09/when-god-speaks.html
Thank you, for singing the hard hallelujah with me.
melindalancaster ... it's so good to see you! :)
I never thought about how the hard hallelujahs would sound to God. What a great thought!
This is beautiful Duane - such a hard subject to write about.
Oh, I'm going to mention that on September 11th. I never thought about it that the entire nation could sing the hard hallelujahs. But we do, don't we.
What a glorious sound that must make.
Blessings to you too Linda. Thank you for stopping by. :)
Cris Ferreira ... I'm sorry.
It is that little bit of sadness that calls us to the other side, doesn't it. I can't wait to see my grandma again.
And a friend...
A close friend.
That one still hurts so much.
Did you know zenichka , that you once told me about your grandma? I still remember what you told me about her.
You'll get to see her someday. Just promise me, for my sake, that "someday" won't be anyday soon. :)
Dusty Rayburn ... I have said it once, and I'll say it again.
You write the most beautiful comments.
They flow, like prose from your fingertips. And often, they feel like the finishing touches the post needed. :)
It is the hardest to do, isn't it? Blessings of peace and comfort to you.
A friend lost his daughter to a brain anuerism. It took them a year just to get past the grief, and then it also changed them. It left a void and each year they celebrate her birthday and there's an empty seat. They are still grieving, but they wear smiles now. They gather together the good memories and go on even if part of them stayed behind in the grave.
My 15 y/o son died in 1985. This is so true and so real. We know there is a better place - and I've finally come to accept those words instead of just saying them. But - why a child. I'm also to the place where I don't need to even ask why when I get to heaven. I just want to see Jesus and my son. C.S. Lewis once said something to the effect that when we get to Heaven will arrive and immediately say "Why. . . Of course". All will be known.
Beautifully said.
You gave me goosebumps, my friend. :) Thanks for sharing this. Very touching, and I'm still so sorry for your loss, and still very thankful for a God who heals.
Brenda Coats ... your comment made my day! It's so good to see you again. :) I too am thankful for that God who heals.
Oh, I love that quote by C.S. Lewis.
I've never heard it but yes, I think that's how it will be. What a profound thought!
In our community, there was a birthday party for a grandmother we all held dear. She is gone, but everyone still got together and remembered.
This is important to healing, I think. :)
It is. But the funny thing Cindy, I didn't choose to write this. It just sorta... happened.
Hallelujah.
The person with hands raised, shouting that word when everything is swell and beautiful - I'm often skeptical of that whole scene. Not proud to say this. That's just usually what I automatically think.
The person singing the hard hallelujah - that truly means something to me. Many things.
Thank you for sharing this hard story. Prayers for your family.
Beautiful words...thank you
Beautiful words to say to a grieving family member or friend...the hurt will always be there but it changes shape. If they were worth loving they are worth grieving. Grief is a love song.
Beautiful. Heartfelt.
Kathleen,
That was beautiful.
"Grief is a love song."
It really is.
Thank you.
I'm like you Bob.
I'm often skeptical of those that are so extremely happy no matter what. I wish I could find that place, but for me, the hard hallelujah makes a lot more sense.
Oh, Duane, I'm so sorry for you and your family and will keep you in my prayers. After my best friend's husband died, I asked God 'Why?' many times, and I talked with others who had lost loved ones far too soon. However, one thought that came up over and over again was that the hurt never completely goes away--but would we really want it to? We'd rather remember that person we miss, even though there will always be a sadness until we one day meet again.
you once told me about your grandma - Proooobably :) She's been on my mind a lot lately, so yeah...
i promise.
"No.
It probably never will. But each time the sun rises in the morning, God
will fill each day with purpose just for you, and slowly, the hurt will
be a little less" - Duane, that's probably the most profound and loving thing that the mom could have heard from anyone. Lovely...as usual!
I'm sorry you and your family have to go through this.
It is truly a beautiful thing to watch a grief sticken believer sing the hard hallelujahs. I am sorry for your loss.
Thank you Glenda.
Helen, it's good to see you again! Oh, how I miss you sometimes. :) That's what I get for saying no to twitter.
"Would we truly long for heaven...
If this life were perfect here...
If the young were never taken...
And we never shed a tear."
Thank you Savira Gupta for stopping by!
Beautiful. Honest. True.
Thanks.
Amazing how the hard things are grace as well as the happy ones.
I'm sitting at my keyboard with tears in my eyes. This is so honest in it's bottomless grief, yet encouraging as God speaks through you in the despair. I have lost too soon, also. I love my beloved sister to a drunk driver years ago. I have written about her in my blog, but i haven't written there about the grief yet. But I know God is preparing me to do so. Shared grief diffuses the pain.
Thank you for inspiring me. Thank you for this intimate look into your life.
God bless you!
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