Isaac's Revelation

As you know I am still processing Hans' passing from this earth. Yesterday at the mini-retreat I had significant insights, which as a thinker I absolutely needed in order to resolve it in my heart—unresolved mysteries which tumble around in my head make for all kinds unrest I cannot find peace or rest until they are resolved.  So what I am about to tell you is unusual, but honestly true. 


One of the troubling factors in settling Hans' account on earth, is that it felt like an event born out of chronological time. We were heading somewhere, divinely appointed and birthed in God and then—out of nowhere, this sudden and abrupt end occurs. I have not been able to make sense of this tragic interruption.

So that is where the Spirit was taking me too on my mini-retreat. The first song the Spirit choose was a sweet and peaceful instrumental. We were supposed to center down and "remember" the Lord, as the Psalmists says, "To magnify Him." As I looked upon my history with the Lord remembering his every incredible kindness to me, I said this prayer: "Words cannot adequately describe the incredible insights you have given me, the favors you have granted, the incomparable passion and love you have bestowed upon me in the past but which now has become so totally irreconcilable with the crushing and breaking asunder of my heart with which you have wounded me in the loss of my husband. It remains the biggest hurdle of my life and Lord, it stands between us." It was the barest moment of my life with God.


My eyes shifted to this picture which was sitting on my desk, as I looked at Hans securely holding my hand, God spoke these words into my heart,  "I gave you this man to guide you, train you, and love you. He will present you to me at the marriage feast and he will be proud of his work in you and of your efforts. Your arrival into maturity (perfection) was his end." I saw in this picture him leading me up the mountain to the throne of God. 


Of course, I was shocked. This meant so many things. Immediately it meant that in some way, my own spiritual life and discipleship was part of Hans' call and a completion of his mission on earth. I believe it means the same thing for all our children. Our maturity in part became the conclusion of his life. It meant that we had all reached a place that God could make a pivotal change in the course of direction and use for each one of us. 


For a moment, I wished that I had stayed immature and insecure so that he would have remained. But then I also understood, that at my completion he too had been perfected. He had reached the end (in love) for which he had been created. I am not talking about works as an end, but a spiritual place where the soul is in a state of compliance and readiness for eternity. I had seen this disposition in Hans toward the end of his life—a sweetness that was nearly unbearable. 


Then I asked God if it had been ok for Hans to die before our Isaac was born? "Isaac" being the seed of the promise? And God simply said, "You were his Isaac." By this I was struck dumb. It is unbearable to think of this when I remember all the fitful ways I behaved while  married. It was not a tame Isaac that Hans carried up Mt. Moriah,  but a rebellious and unformed Isaac. I could not compare with the earthly Isaac's submission to the will of God and trust in the Father that he displayed. 


It also occurred to me that Hans' "Isaac" was different than mine. This explained why we had so many difficulties in describing the vision of our mission. Now I see we were working on different blueprints with different endings.  My "promised son" was much different than his. I could feel my soul relax as I began to let the words sink in. But I was full of questions:


How can another person be someone's else's promise?
Can another person's dream mean the end of someone else?
Did Obi Wan Kenobi die because he knew he would be more useful to Luke as a ghost?
And weren't those Jesus' words too? It is better that I go away, so that the comforter may come to you? 
What did it mean for the bringing forth of my own dream? 


I asked Jesus to not shrink back, but to keep the windows open for me a bit more. I asked in the Spirit if I could touch his wounds, like Thomas did. He said, "You have. Your fingers are inside my wound as you grieve Han's loss. Your sorrow is because I let you into my wound and now it is your wound too." My sorrow will always be there as it is for Jesus too. Somehow the loss I feel is part of God's revelation of Himself to me. I am not alone in this terrible tragic pain I feel nearly all the time. 


This morning I did not feel the heaviness of being alone, abandoned or lost. I mysteriously felt part of a bigger picture, enabled with the designer's grace to live out knowing that somehow I had been incorporated into Hans and the Lord.