Dear Friend,
You may recall the story I shared with you recently about Kusum...
A widow, and a mom, trying to live a life that’s faithful to Jesus in her small village in India. Her story is tragic. She has experienced more loss than I could possibly imagine. Starting with her husband. And then her son.
As difficult as it would be to endure such heartbreak, she was also blamed by the community for their deaths. Because Kusum is a Christian.
I can imagine the insults and jeers cut deep. But I also wonder if every accusation thrown at her forced her to relive the deaths of her precious loved ones. Again. And again.
But what I didn’t share about Kusum’s story was her experience directly after her son died.
I don’t know how everyone in her village knew about Kusum’s son dying. But when she came back to her village, and prepared to bury her son’s body, the villagers refused to allow her to bury him in the local cemetery.
Instead, Kusum had to bury him outside the village. Alone. Because nobody was allowed to help her.
I’m sharing that part of the story today, because it’s Good Friday. The day we remember the death of our Savior. As Jesus breathed His last, the skies went dark and the earth shook.
I can imagine His followers felt the same darkness and tremors in their souls, as they watched their expectation of redemption breathe His last breath.
In many ways, when the followers of Jesus buried His body...they could’ve felt as though they’d buried their only hope.
For you and me, it’s easy to move quickly from Good Friday to Resurrection Sunday—the glimpse and taste of the new life to come when eternity swallows the world whole.
But, in truth, we live most of our lives in the in-between. In the tension between the heartbreak we feel, and the hope we know that’s to come.
Kusum reminds me of this tension. And her story forces me to stop and reflect.
In my mind’s eye, I can see her as she buries her son. The sting of the shovel blistering her hands. And the sting of the tears she can’t help but cry. But all the while knowing this moment isn’t the end.
Because there will come a day when all her suffering will make sense. A glorified day when the full reality of Easter will be unleashed, and we’ll join our Savior in the skies.
What we will celebrate together as the Body of Christ on Sunday is but a glimpse. Even a shadow of what’s to come.
And for now, we have to embrace the tension. And cling to the Easter we experience now. But also know that the understanding, explanations and all the answers we—and other believers like Kusum—long for will eventually come.
Riding on the hem of our King’s robes when He comes back from heaven and makes everything new and introduces His people into eternity.
Thank you in advance.
In Christ,
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Dr. David Curry
President/CEO
Open Doors USA
P.S. You can learn more about Kusum and read her story here. And please feel free to forward this email to your friends and family. |
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