Those That Remain

I cannot believe it has almost been a year since my grandma on my mom’s side passed away, last Thanksgiving morning. I remember it like it was yesterday, and yet, it also seems like so long ago. It was a cold morning, and Rick’s phone, set on do not disturb mode, rang at about 5 or so in the morning. He got his phone, exited the bedroom and closed the door behind him. He returned and asked me to call my mom, and I already knew. She had been sick for some time, so when the news came, there was relief, shock and hope, but mostly fear and anxiety over her eternal destination, among a slew of others. Can you relate?

The day was altogether odd. Zachary was sick, so instead of coming home after school the day before, he stayed at his mom’s house, and we did not see him for the holiday. Our neighbors that had planned to join us for breakfast did not call or show up. And at the two other gatherings we dropped in and out of, everyone asked and said roughly the same: I am sorry for your loss, and the look of grief was in their eyes. I had not begun to grieve, so I felt cold-hearted that others were moved more than me.

Maria Luisa Perez was a devout Catholic, and she knew and loved God’s word. She and I would discuss the gospel time and time again, but she would share an uncertainty and concern of being worthy or doing enough good to deserve forgiveness. The evening of the news, I recall brushing my teeth wondering, will I see her in heaven? My heart and emotions were on the brink of erupting as I was contemplating her salvation and how I had allowed bitterness to grow on my end, separation and distance to divide and strain our relationship, during recent years. Crying out to the Lord in silent prayer, the Holy Spirit gave me an exhortation: “Her time is done. And her decision is between her and I. Focus on those that remain [and their eternal destination].”

I knew my order: preach the gospel. The next day I spoke to my mom who was coordinating the logistics for services. I asked if I could do a eulogy, and she said yes, of course*. My grandparents had 9 children, 3 are deceased and only 2 seem truly versed in the Way. When my grandma and I would speak, she would grieve over her children and their unbelief. Her desire was for them to come to saving faith. I think she held on in her physical decline as long as she could, in hope of seeing her prayers answered in the affirmative.

My grandma was like a mom to me, and she has been the first person that has passed I was intimately close to. When I was preparing for her memorial, the Lord gave me the words to speak, and I was confident in His leading. As I stepped into the chapel, to the podium and looked my family in the eyes, I was undone – so much brokenness, uncertainty and despair. But by God’s grace, the Holy Spirit opened my mouth and heart, and the gospel was proclaimed.

Since then, I have confessed bitterness, sought forgiveness more regularly and prayed for more opportunities to speak the truth in love to all. Doors keep opening in Riverside - in contrast, not many have come with family. Yet I rest in the power of God’s word, goodness and perfect plans for each of them. My prayer is that the Holy Spirit would personally remind us daily of the gospel, give us a burden to declare it to those that remain and rest in Jesus to save (consider Ezekiel 3:16-21 and 1 Corinthians 3:6).  

*Click here to watch what I shared at my grandmother's memorial service.