Austin's Blog

I’m on my last layover before making it back home to NOLA from the Philippines. I’ve reflected a lot on the nature of grief and serving the Lord in the midst of it. First, grief is a companion that travels with you. At each stage of my journey over the last ten days, grief brooded over me each moment. It is less acute and severe as it once was but it sits at the table with me now. You take your sorrow wherever you go. Second, grief fundamentally challenges your motives in serving and loving God. I have thought often this past week, “Do I love God for His sake or because all of the secondary blessings?” Like Job, we must painfully learn to love God for God and nothing more. Third, as I served my team of translators working in the Philippines, there was joy but that joy was tinged with sorrow. I am continually surprised at times by the levels of joy that persist. Joy comes through things from God so it makes sense that it would still flow around me.

Fourth, serving others while grieving is hard work. I had to choose so often to pursue their good instead of tending to my pain and heartache. I wanted to retreat but the time we have is a gift. We are stewards. Though my son has died, I haven’t. There’s still work to do. Fifth, it was so hard to be away from my girls. Before Gabe passed, there was ease jumping on a plane and going to forge new paths of ministry. Now, it truly feels like a sacrifice to leave. It was all gain before. Now, there’s a level of loss in leaving. I think a part of that is who knows how long the Lord will give me with my girls? I don’t want to miss it. I don’t want to miss the opportunity to be with them. Sixth, I’ve been continually impressed with the weight of my own sin and the grace that’s been poured out on me because of the work of Christ. There’s no anger with God. I’m aware that Christ is my hope, my only plea, and my surety before God.

Seventh, I miss him. I miss him every day. I long to be back with my baby boy. The ache is profound, deep, and existential. There’s a Gabe-sized hole in my heart that I carry around. As long as that wound exists, he is not forgotten. Eighth, as the “Why me?” question has popped up, the “Why not me?” question has silenced it. Why should I expect comfort, ease, and continual earthly blessings knowing my brothers and sisters across the globe don’t have that? Our best life is later and this earth surely isn’t our home.