I know I haven't blogged in a month, so I am sorry that this one is gonna be a downer.
Saturday, Eric and I found out that a former student of ours from the youth group at FCC was killed in a motorcycle/car accident. By a 17 year old girl. Who was drunk. Matt was only 19. Now I haven't seen Matt in months, and haven't talked to him in longer but it has me shaken. He was an incredible young man who loved the Lord --the world is a sadder place without him. The outpouring of love and heartache I have seen in the last 24 hours to him from those who knew him best is such a testament to him and his life.
But this wasn't someone I saw on a daily basis. Even when he was in our youth group, he hung with Eric (as it usually was the case with the boys) way more than me. Although, he wasn't even that close to Eric either.
However, I am still reeling from this loss.
As I do anytime death is around me. I have come to learn in the last few years that I don't deal well with death. Okay that is an understatement. I deal horribly with death. And honestly, I haven't had someone particularly close to me pass away (although now that I say that, I am sure someone will remind me of a situation and I am going to feel horrible later for forgetting it).
I had a classmate killed in 5th grade. A dear friend's mom pass away from cancer in 9th grade. Great-grandparents when I was young. A regular at my Starbucks just died of a drug overdose. A few years ago, we had a youth sponsor take his life. And recently, the story was told simillarly with our worship pastor.
None of these people were ones that I had everyday contact with on a deep level (yes I cared for these people and the loss it caused the families and friends, but you know what I mean...no one whom I have grown up with or been mentored by or close family). But as I get older, these deaths have hit me harder and harder.
And each time I can feel some element of evil wanting to take over my thoughts. For days, my mind will be consumed with death. I can't stop myself from imagining the worst for my friends and family. Or even myself, and leaving them behind. I cannot imagine what sort of evil game Satan will want to play when someone extremely close to me dies.
And I don't know how to stop my brain from going down these roads. Yes, prayer. Yes, reading my Bible. I have drowned myself with those things in the last few hours and yet, here I am, awake because I could not shut my brain down (or quiet Satan's shouting) enough to go to sleep.
I know that for some reason, since I the time I graduated high school (haven't quite pinned down the event, but just the general time period) I have become a worrier. Nothing used to bog me down. Sure I had the typical teen angst or body image crud, but nothing like I am now. I get consumed by worry. (And yes, I have read Matthew 6 about a bazillion times, so thanks in advance for the suggestion--sorry for the snark). I can't seem to shake it.
And death seems to be a hot button of worry for me.
I am 100% sure of my destiny. And just as certain (or as certain as you can be without actually being them) of the destinies of those that I am close to. And 4 out of the last 5 people that I have known that passed away were amazingly Christ-like and beautiful examples of love (the other 1 might have been a believer, I just didn't know him well enough to know). So I don't believe it was an issue of "oh no, I didn't share Christ's love with them" or "I just don't know if I will see them again." Those that died that I was closest to, I am SURE I will be partying it up with them in Heaven.
So why such worry and saddness when it comes to death? Why do I allow my thoughts to be consumed with it?
From what scripture tells us, death is (and supposed to be) and foreign concept to us. We were never meant to die the physical death that we all will face. Until sin entered the picture in the garden, we were all supposed to live eternally, physically and spiritually (at least from my understanding of the Word. Please correct me if I am wrong). Death was never something we were supposed to get used to or comfortable with.
Somehow, those words and thoughts still aren't a comfort to me.
I don't have any resolution to this (again. I seem to leave a lot of my blog entries like this...sorry!) But at least I got my thoughts and tears out for now. So at least it was theraputic for me...it was unintentional of it made your brain hurt reading it.
One thing I am sure of though, is that the joy certainly does come in the morning. Night all.