Grief is deep sorrow, especially that caused by someone’s death. Mourning is the outward expression of grief and sorrow. [Mat 5:4 NASB20] 4 "Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted.” Let me tell you about a couple of songs that came to me in the middle of a trial experienced by a friend and his family. Here’s the story behind the songs. Those songs are called Run To Jesus / Over Yonder and they came to me on July 31-August 1, 1996. Here’s what I wrote about the song at that time:

I have several very good friends. One of them is Matt. I met Matt a few years ago as of the time of this writing, yet it seems as if we've known each other our entire lives. When God knits two hearts together, time is easily bridged on the wings of intimacy. Matt became a sounding board for me…a safe place to unload my burdens., confess my sins, and expose the deepest places of my heart without fear of abandonment or rejection. As in any relationship, for closeness to take place, sharing must be mutual. As Matt was a safe place for me, I was a safe place for him. The song Run to Jesus/Over Yonder was born out of our relationship and forged from Matt's journey through many years of grief.

Matt is the middle child of nine. When he was 10 years old, God gave his family their last baby…a little girl. It was soon evident that this little girl was not like other little girls. Stacey was born with Down Syndrome. Even though Stacey was born with a disability, Matt’s parents didn't complain. This child was a gift, regardless of her physical or mental capacities. They didn't become frustrated, but saw this as yet another opportunity to overcome adversity. Adding one more child to an already large family seemed to be business as usual in this special home. The patience and grace with which Matt’s parents responded to Stacey helped Matt get through the grief a big brother feels towards a little sister who seems challenged.

But Matt did grieve. The shock of having a sister who was not normal when compared to other little girls may not have been readily apparent, but in a gradual sense, Matt did have to deal with the mental and emotional trauma of the realization of Stacey's weaknesses.

Even though he didn't know what he was experiencing as a child, in looking back, he sees that there were times when he was overcome with anger. Why did she have to be born this way? Why did other people have to make disparaging and cruel remarks about her? Stacey knew she was different, so why did she have to experience the stares and pointing fingers her entire life? Why were people so insensitive? Little boys dream of being the defenders of their little sisters. What Matt soon came to realize is that, many times, he would be called upon literally to defend his sister against the sometimes endless taunting and insecurity of others. Anger was difficult to avoid. He felt as if he were bearing Stacey's burdens for much of his life.

Matt soon learned to turn these burdens into catalysts for the further laying down of his life and service to his sister and family. When others would point or tease, Matt wood shield and protect. When friends came over and Stacey threw her fork or didn't make it to the bathroom in time, Matt learned to graciously diffuse such tense times with humor and discretion. When Stacey could not play games like other children, Matt would play what they called ‘slow motion games’, which Stacey dearly loved and looked forward to. In one of these games, Matt and Stacey wood pretend-box in slow motion. Stacey would reel with glee as she knocked her big brother senseless with a right hook and watched him fall slowly backward into the wall. Stacey struggled scholastically, so, to help sharpen her mental capacities, her siblings quizzed her on baseball stats. Stacey could quote the batting averages of her favorite major league team players from specific years. This family had learned to take hardship and grief and turn it to blessing and joy.

I had only known Matt for a couple of years when Stacey died. At 31 years of age, her body had been showing signs of giving out so she had to be hospitalized. One day Matt went home to shower before returning to the hospital, and Stacey died before Matt could get back there. His immediate response was grief. His baby sister was gone and he had not been able to say goodbye. Yet mingled with the sorrow were tinges of relief. And with those feelings, guilt poured into his soul for feeling that relief. All the years of helping to bear Stacey’s load now seemed insignificant compared to this loss.

I knew Matt was hurting, but I didn't know what to do or what to say. I only knew that I had to be there for my friend. I picked him up for lunch the next day, and we drove around town. When I asked him how he was doing, he began to unload the burdens that had accumulated over the many years of growing up with and caring for his little sister. We soon found our way into the quiet country back roads and drove around as my friend wept over the loss, wept over the guilt he now felt because of the sense of relief he felt, wept because he had not been there when she had passed away, wept because people never fully appreciated or valued Stacey's life as much as Matt and his family had, wept because he missed his little sister. I will never forget that day because I realized there was nothing I could do or say to make it better for Matt. But I also realized that the best thing I could do was simply to be there and listen to him.

Matt’s sorrow and grief soon gave way to recollections of the life he had shared with his sister. At a glance, one might think there could only be heartache to share, but Matt told story after story of the great joy Stacey to brought those around her. He mused at how she would be able to walk and talk and enjoy the glorified body God had given her as she entered heaven. He wondered what it would be like to one day see his sister again and to be able to reminisce about all they had experienced together on earth. As the laughter mixed with tears, we made our way back to town, and my friend could now more easily face the reality of planning a memorial service for his precious sister in the peace this brief outpouring of emotion had brought to his heart and to mine.

The Lord gave me these songs for Matt as a memorial to Stacey's life, as a gift to his family, and as a confession of our faith in God and the hope of the eternal life He has promised to those whose faith is in Jesus Christ. The words speak for themselves. Those songs are called Run To Jesus/Over Yonder and the link to hear the song is available below.

Matt’s greatest moments of comfort came as friends and family shared stories of how Stacey had blessed their lives. These poignant stories became more priceless and precious than gold. Hearing these stories replaced Matt’s sorrow with humor and laughter, and the honest confessions of love and admiration bolstered the pride of a big brother who takes up for his little sister. Stacey's death left a tremendous void in this family, but that void was replaced with the legacy of love and strength that only those who have experienced such a blessing as Stacey can even begin to understand. I did not know Stacey well, but I knew her through the heart of her big brother. This song represents the truth we all need and hope every heart longs for. Life is precious. God is good.

When a loved one or when a friend is grieving the loss of someone close, we may feel ill-equipped to help them or ease their pain or sorrow…but we can just be there for them. We can hold them if they need us to. We can just listen. We can wait in silence with them if that’s what they need. Sometimes the greatest comfort comes when a grieving heart knows its sorrow is being heard.

Dennis Jernigan

To hear The Dennis Jernigan Podcast version of today’s blog and to hear the songs, go to https://www.patreon.com/posts/run-to-jesus-97904149

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