This week’s teaching is the story behind my song, The Pain of Love. It was born out of a time of grief and loss experienced by one of my children and a horse named Surprise.
I remember the day we first brought Jasmine home. We had spotted the beautiful white horse at a local auction, and my daughter, Annē, had quickly fallen in love. The horse was not too big and not too small. In every way she seemed just right. We purposely bought a female with the intention of having her bred because Annē had dreams of raising a baby horse.
Once we got Jasmine home, Annē set out to get to know her new friend. She learned the habits and personality of her steed. Day by day, Jasmine learned a new trick or behavior, and Annē and her horse were very close. My greatest joy was simply watching Annē and Jasmine glide full speed across the pasture. I couldn't tell who was having the most fun: Annē or Jasmine or me!
Day by day, Jasmine became more and more a part of the family. She seemed so healthy in every way. And she was healthier than we ever realized! On Easter Sunday of 1996, I was awakened by the screams of my daughter. At first, I thought something was terribly wrong, but then I realized Annē's hysteria was actually joy beyond measure.
“Daddy! Daddy! Jasmine had a baby! Jasmine had a baby!”
At first, I thought Annē had lost her mind, but as I approached the pasture Jasmine called home, I saw a small white creature hiding behind Jasmine's legs. I thought that perhaps one of the neighbor’s goats had gotten into the field, yet upon closer examination, I was stunned to see a little, white, gangly-legged filly that looked like a miniature Jasmine!
A baby horse! This had been Annē’s dream all along. It was as if God wanted to surprise my daughter with the most unexpected gift…just because! For this reason, Annē dubbed her new filly, Surprise.
My daughter was in heaven on earth! By the end of the first week with Surprise, Annē had tamed her and fitted her with her first halter. After only a few weeks, she had trained the little horse to follow her with a lead rope. As the summer passed and Surprise grew, each day brought deep joy to my little girl’s heart. It felt as if we were living in a fairytale.
But not all fairytales have happy endings. By the middle of August, Annē had come to know her horses pretty well. But as dads sometimes do, I didn't listen when she told me she felt that Surprise was not acting like herself. I assumed that Annē was simply overreacting to some dispositional attitude the filly had displayed. My thought was that Annē's apprehension would be alleviated as the days went by…as the filly grew out of this stage. Surprise looked fine to me.
But a few days later, the peaceful afternoon air of the Jernigan farm was pierced by the most heart-wrenching cry I have ever heard. The same voice that had so joyfully awakened me with the news of Surprise’s birth was wailing with sobs of grief and despair as Annē ran through the pasture back to the house looking for me.
“Somethings wrong with surprise! Daddy! Daddy! Daddy! I think she's dead!”
My heart began pounding. My mind went numb. My heart began to break at the sight of my little girl grieving at the loss of something so dear to her heart. As she fell apart in my arms, I didn't know what to do.
“Are you sure, Annie? Are you sure?”
“Yes, daddy! Yes, I am sure!”
I began crying with my daughter. Although I was grieved at the loss of Surprise, I was more distressed at my daughter's broken heart. I grieved because she grieved. Leaving her side for a moment, I ran across the same field I had seen Annē and Jasmine fly across so many times. The same field where she had taught Surprise to follow her. Perhaps Surprise was just asleep in the afternoon sun. Maybe Annē had been mistaken. But then I saw the filly’s little body. She was laying on her side, and it was very obvious she was dead. How could this be? This didn't compute in my mind. And if I couldn't make sense of it, how was my little girl going to handle this?
Many thoughts flooded my mind. I hadn't I listened to Annē about Surprise’s health? Why would God surprise us with such a lavish gift and then allow it to be taken away so suddenly? What could I possibly do to help my daughter through the process of grief? How can I use this as an opportunity to explain God's grace?
After the veterinarian arrived to examine the filly’s body for a cause of death, we loaded the family in the van and drove to town to get Annē away and to talk with her about the afternoon’s events. We were able to grieve together as a family. We talked about what we could have done to save the horse and realized there was no way we could have foreseen the day’s events. Even though Annē had concerns about Surprise’s health prior to her death, other circumstances had come into play which kept a more intensive diagnosis from taking place…namely, that I had not seen her symptoms as major concerns.
I sought my daughter's forgiveness for not listening to her and for not taking action. But beyond that, we came to the conclusion, especially after the veterinarians report a few days later (her liver had evidence of parasitic invasion), that there was really nothing that we could have done beyond what we did. Upon reaching that conclusion, we decided to look back on our short time with Surprise with a thankful heart and take a look at our situation from God's point of view.
We had not expected a baby horse, yet God had surprised us. We had many memories as well as pictures of Surprise to remind us of all the joy her short life had brought us. Just as I had taught my daughter to get back in the saddle after being thrown from a horse, in much the same way, we needed to get back in the saddle of life. What did this mean for Annē? Overcoming the fear of losing the things we love.
To love someone is to risk being hurt. Just think of Jesus and His great love for us when he took the weight of the sin of the entire world upon Himself and paid our debt with His own precious blood. Annē could have chosen not to spend any more time with her horse, Jasmine, because of all the hurtful memories this could've turned up. She could've chosen to cut off the risk of further wounding and loss by not allowing herself to love or to be loved.
To love means to risk. To risk means we might suffer loss. But our final understanding was this: not to risk loving for fear of loss is to cut off life. But because of our example in Christ, we know that love requires risk and that risk can mean loss. But we learned that love gives of itself regardless of the outcome. To love is to give. Not to love is to close one’s self off from life. Away from hurt. Away from reality. Away from Hope. Not to risk loving is to place oneself in the realm of hell. And hell is a place devoid of love. No love equals no relationship. No relationship equals no life.
Jesus loved. He risked his life. He suffered loss. Yet from his loving, his risking, his loss, came our hope for relationship. From his love came our life. For us, it is no different. We will always be faced with death in this life. How we respond to that death will determine the depth of life we are able to experience on this earth. Even in death, little surprises come shining through to remind us to keep on loving, to keep on living.
In the days following Surprise’s death, the Lord gave me a song for my daughter. Let's take a few minutes and listen and allow the Lord and his massive love for us to comfort us wherever the circumstances of life may find us right now.
Dennis Jernigan
"For God so loved the world, that He gave His only Son, so that everyone who believes in Him will not perish, but have eternal life.” John 3:16 NASB
You can listen to The Dennis Jernigan Podcast version of this blog and hear the song, The Pain of Love, at https://www.patreon.com/posts/pain-of-love-99242912?utm_medium=clipboard_copy&utm_source=copyLink&utm_campaign=postshare_creator&utm_content=join_link
Photo courtesy of https://cdn.pixabay.com/photo/2023/08/01/16/48/horse-8163366_1280.jpg