When You Can't Say Goodbye

There is a bitter sweetness in parting.  The hope of being reunited dulls the pain of separation.  Just a week ago I was reunited with my wife and children after their trip to southern California.  When we parted at the airport, there was sadness to be heading separate ways yet a joyful expectancy of their visit with friends and family.  God willing, we would meet again.  At the prescribed time, I met them at the airport!  Like most people, I have endured many different sorts of goodbyes:  leaving home to start a family, at the bedside of a loved one who would soon pass into eternity, and a goodbye to family, friends, and the United States of America when we relocated to Australia.  Sadness in parting, but a joyful expectancy of reunion.

I received word yesterday that one of my friends, Mark Rawn, unexpectedly passed into eternity on Sunday.  I cried for him.  I cried for myself that I could not be there and show support to honour his memory.  Now there was a man!  Raw, powerful, joyful, and genuine.  I remember speaking to him many Sunday mornings at church, him wearing his Washington Redskins hat and hoodie.  Shaking his hand was like being gripped by steel.  Mark looked like someone who played center back in the day, built like Juggernaut.  Quick to smile and laugh, a hearty "Amen!" from Mark was not uncommon in church, or even an occasional snore.  When Mark first trusted in Jesus Christ, he brought a six-pack to a Bible study.  Why not?  This man loved God, his little girl Angelyna, big cars, guns, and the Skins.  I can only see his face with a beaming smile.  I love you Mark!  I never got to tell him, but I immediately thought of Mark when I saw Master Boar at the end of the Gongmen Jail scene in "Kung Fu Panda 2."  "Yeeeaah!"  I'll never forget him.

One of my fondest memories of Mark is when he was a Roman guard in a church play at Calvary Chapel El Cajon.  He brought a real edge to the role.  While everyone else was tiptoeing around with the mocking of Christ during the scourging scene, Mark laid into Jesus with mockery, scorn, and ridicule.  I was so proud of him.  He wanted people to realise the kind of brutal, shocking treatment the Son of God chose to endure for sinful man's sake.  Mark had tasted of the redeeming, reconciling, delivering love of Jesus Christ.  He would have Jesus glorified.  Oh my friend, how I wish I could have been there for you before you met your Saviour face to face.  I'm so sorry I couldn't say goodbye.  The tears keep coming.

David's "Song of the Bow" says it well in 2 Samuel 1:23-25:  "How the mighty have fallen in the midst of the battle! Jonathan was slain in your high places. ²⁶ I am distressed for you, my brother Jonathan; you have been very pleasant to me; your love to me was wonderful, surpassing the love of women. ²⁷ "How the mighty have fallen, and the weapons of war perished!"  Yet despite the bitterness of this devastating loss, there is sweetness.  There is sweetness knowing that Mark has passed from life on earth in the everlasting arms of His Saviour.  Death on earth is a direct result of sin, but for those who repent and are born again by grace through faith in Christ death is like going to sleep.  The death of the physical body of Christians opens the door to release the soul to eternity in heaven.  Jesus says in John 11:25-26, "I am the resurrection and the life. He who believes in Me, though he may die, he shall live. ²⁶ And whoever lives and believes in Me shall never die. Do you believe this?"  Mark believed this.  I believe it too.  It is not our belief which will reunite us together in heaven, but the power of Jesus Christ according to His own infallible Word.

Mark has fallen, but One mightier than he has raised him to life.  I'm glad Jesus has made room in heaven for guys like Mark and me.  Rest in the Prince of Peace, my brother.  I never had the chance to say goodbye, but I'm looking forward to being reunited.  I don't know God's timing, but our meeting in a life more real and lasting than what we have experienced on earth is a certainty.  That's a "hello" worth waiting for!