After people die, their words gain in importance. We may have listened to what they said when they were with us, but we hear them with greater intensity after they’re gone.
For example, Nate chose a passage of Scripture as his favorite and never wavered as the years passed. Paul’s words in Hebrews 12:1-3 struck a chord with him because of the reference to running the particular race “set out before us” by God. In Nate’s view, each life-race looked different, some set on less strenuous courses than others, but our task was to run the one assigned to us, as best we could.
While Christmas shopping in December, I came across a tiny plaque with a portion of Hebrews 12 on it. When I saw it, I glommed onto it like it was a piece of Nate himself. Of course I know Scripture belongs to everyone, but the fact that it was his favorite passage linked it to him in a way that gave it more significance to me. Because he loved it, I’ll always love it.
The same holds true for someone’s personal belongings. Increased value post-death is what prevents a widow from cleaning out her husband’s closet or giving away what he owned. Even his scent, still hanging in the threads of his clothes, becomes precious, a reason to refrain from washing or dry cleaning his wardrobe.
Scripture makes good use of this principle. Jesus knew that those hearing his words were absorbing only part of the message while he was with them. Strangers listening on a hillside often turned and walked away, unable to believe the outrageous truths he taught. Religious authorities argued back; and his disciples suffered confusion. But Jesus knew that after his death, his words would take on greater potency, more effectively moving hearers to believe what he’d told them.
When a husband dies, that’s the end of his earthly existence, although his posthumous influence continues somewhat. But after Jesus died, he and his Father were ready with a plan that would not only continue his earthly influence but enlarge it to a world-shaking level.
He promised not to leave his followers as orphans [or widows] and said, “I will ask the Father, and he will give you another advocate to help you and be with you forever— the Spirit of truth.” (John 14:16-18) Since he’d just told them he was going away, causing them to feel low, this must have lifted them significantly. Then at Pentecost, they got their chance to meet this miraculous advocate, the Holy Spirit.
One of the Spirit’s many functions was (and is) to bring Jesus’ words and lessons to the remembrance of those he’d left behind (much like I remember Nate’s words) but to do so with added oomph, teaching and explaining what Jesus had meant in his earthly ministry. And he’s been doing it with excellence for 2000 years.
We can be forever thankful for this, because now that Jesus is no longer on the earth, what he taught has become especially precious to us.
Jesus said, “The Holy Spirit… will teach you all things and will remind you of everything I have said to you.” (John 14:26)
Peace be to George S. and his family. He is loved by many.
I look att that placque as one of God’s little ‘gifts’ to you, Margaret. Something tangible you can hold – that you remember Nate with. HE SO CARES!
It’s been my experience throughout life – the ‘Spirit of Truth’ is still here and alive and well…but the human mind would rather believe a lie first – and the ‘truth’ convicts the guilty – even when not wanting to be faced.
John 14:26 is such a comforting passage of scripture….when doubt creeps in – turn to the ‘rock of truth’. Amen!
Nate knows this truth to its fullest now. What a special blog. Thanks so much.
I have resumed going to a Thursday study that I have been a part of for 15 years now. I am the youngest, yet I am the only one to have lost my husband. It is hard to be there. They talk about their husbands and how they would miss them if they were gone. I just sit and listen and know that they don’t understand my pain, even after almost 2 years. Why do I go? I know this has nothing to do in response to your blog, but I just had to share it. I miss him so much.