And when he had said these things, he knelt down and prayed with them all. And there was much weeping on the part of all; they embraced Paul and kissed him, being sorrowful most of all because of the word he had spoken, that they would not see his face again. And they accompanied him to the ship. – Acts 20:36-38 (ESV)
Interestingly enough, you might never see these three sentences if you’re not paying attention. To the casual observer, they simply begin a locational transition from Paul’s ministry in Ephesus to a new one in Jerusalem but if you slow down and reread it, there’s a lot more going on. As you read it again, notice the Ephesians tearfully embracing their dear friend with a collective and deep sorrow in their hearts – deeply desiring to spend every last moment possible with their friend, to the point that they even walked him to the gangplank before he boarded his ship. Their sorrow doesn’t come from regret or guilt. It’s not a sorrow that wishes they could go back and change something. No. It’s a sorrow that stems from a sense of eminent loss; that the future somehow won’t be what the past has been or the present is; and they were grieving the loss. The
people from the city of Ephesus had begun to fully understand that the blessings they had shared with their friend over the past three years were coming to an end and they would not see his face again.
I’ve been there, and maybe you have too. During one of those times in my life, we had invited two students from Up With People to stay with us for a week as they volunteered in our community and raised money for their sponsoring organization. I thoroughly enjoyed having our two “adopted daughters” come home every night and share life with us. They would tell us with great enthusiasm their experiences in the community, what their “real” homes were like (one from Vail, Colorado and the other from Antwerp, Belgium), what their dreams for the future looked like, and were curious how we lived in our small Northern Plains city on these short, cold nights in February. We walked, talked, and laughed together for a week – 7 days. That’s it. But when their suitcases were packed and it was time for them to journey on, I sensed a deep sense of dread come over me. I’m not sure where it came from but I remember driving more slowly than usual that day. I took the long way to get to their departure point so as to have every possible moment with our girls…Sadly, my delay tactics only bought a few more moments as we pulled into the parking lot and ultimately, the next stop on their journey. I helped unload their luggage from our van to the bus, took some final pictures, and slowly walked them to the stairs. As their busses pulled away, the floodgates opened and I cried. Not tears that one gets from dust in your eye but the salt-filled, stinging tears that burn all the way down your face. In seven short days, they had grown in my heart from complete strangers to adopted daughters and to this day, I still find myself thinking of them and wondering how they are doing.
My life has been full of blessings like that. Days and years with friends and family that were so good and so rich that I have been forever changed. But sadly, our lives diverged and we went other directions. And if I can be honest, I hate it when they do. Those people who have shared life with me in such a meaningful, authentic way are treasures along the journey and it hurts when they’re gone – deeply!
But here’s the takeaway – It’s OK to hurt and it’s normal to express that sorrow in the face of loss! Men especially, but women as well, please don’t miss what I just said. There is a lie from the pit of Hell that suggests we are weak or insufficient if we express sadness or grieve loss. That somehow, we just aren’t tough enough to pull ourselves up by our boot-straps and move on. But God’s word in The Bible teaches otherwise. Paul felt the sting of loss. The Ephesians felt it. And Jesus himself models the expression of that grief as he wept in the face eminent sense of loss at Lazarus’ grave. When your faced with those moments, be them the death of a loved one, or the end of a season in your life, give yourself permission and the freedom to grieve, and grieve, and grieve again. Grief isn’t something that is one and done. It’s ongoing. You miss the blessings and the encouragement and the love those folks brought. It’s OK. It’s only human. And it’s profoundly Biblical.