A hard funeral this week—one of the hardest I ever attended. A Spiderman cap graced the tiny coffin. It doesn’t take a very big box to hold a three-year-old. His dad’s auto shop was closed for the day. I heard that the employees of the only floral shop in town were in tears as they made the arrangements. The funeral home gave the parents a throw with a picture of little Joseph on it in his Spidey hat. An uncle threw his arms around the throw as if he could still embrace the child it represented.
Let this blest assurance control,
That Christ hath regarded my helpless estate,
And hath shed His own blood for my soul.
It is well, it is well with my soul!
Even so, it is well with my soul.
Joseph loved when the Newsboys “God’s Not Dead” came on the radio. I guess he and his dad always sang along. It was played at the end of the service. I could picture my grandkids, jumping around, enjoying the music, and absorbing a message we never expect a child to need: Let love explode and bring the dead to life … God’s not dead; he is surely alive … Let hope arise and make the darkness hide.
Someday Joseph will be waiting excitedly with Jesus to welcome his big sister, his parents, others who loved him. The tragedy of last weekend’s accident will have long since faded to insignificance in his joy at being with Jesus. That’s hard for us to wrap our minds around on a dark drippy day in October with the pain still so raw. Lord, help us to focus on the light of your presence in these dark days and never let go of your hand.