Sunday, August 17, 2014

Where Is Your Sting?

It was just a quick errand, but those are the ones that have you catching every red light. At one of those long stops, the intersection faced a cemetery. Rows of marbled headstones stood contrast to the black motorcade of town cars and hearse. The familar sight of huddled grief circling the casket, heads bowed, black and gray.

The light turned green and just like that I moved forward while the mourning was continued over life's end. 

And then next light turned red, once again interrupting my errands, my schedule, my thoughts. 

This intersection boasted riot and protest. It paraded poster-board and megaphones. The 3 story building with hideous tan brick and old crank handle operated windows cast a shadow across the rows of cars waiting for the light to turn green.

And the black sharpie handwriting raising the fight for life, contrasted against clean white poster board grabbed from the same pile a third grader will use to create his science presentation. 

The desperate plea of voices and volunteers were to shout awareness this hideous brick building housed a hideous death ground.

While no marble tombstones marked lives ended, while no mourners circled in grief, I was idling in the shadow of a cemetery by it's own horrendous making. 

My heart gripped in agony and no words left in my being at the sight of the unmarked building, concealing the darkness within it. And I mourned. Like the loved ones in gray circling a burial ground one intersection back, my tears and grief fell on this burial ground- a harsh, sterile, forced, death ground. 

I asked God to show me Him, here in this valley of the shadow, please God, are you here?

And I saw it...light, not from sun or filament, but from peace, that passes all understanding. It washed over my grieving soul like a balm and I stared death in the face and new it had lost. 

Where is your sting?

I have overcome death with My own life, said True Love.

I hold the littlest ones too young to know anything other than their Maker.

I heal hearts defiled inside the sterile rooms of that brick building.

I surround the mourners by the grave side.

Where is your sting?

I hold the life that is born into my arms.

I hold saints taken after lives well lived.

I hold those who hold onto Me.

True Love reached down in the light over the brick shadow and cradled to Him the innocent life's end.

Where is your sting?

My light turned green, but I wasn't in a hurry anymore. 

In my rear-view mirror were three car seats filled with life.
Their chatter and giggles contrasted the hideous tan bricked building fading from view and peace overwhelmed my soul.

My thoughts turned now from errands to life. 

To the graveside goodbyes. 

To the innocent taken by "choice". 

Where is your sting?
To the child desired and loved yet born to his Father. 

To my own babies I'll never hold on this Earth for God brought to His arms first. 

Where is your sting?

And those taken in sickness or tragedy. 

Those sacrificed in honor and duty. 

Those laid down in the name of Christ.
The clash of life and death we grieve and mourn and struggle to make sense with will never leave the shadow on this earth.

But our resurrected King has rendered you defeated.

Where is your sting?