first, on a Godly King’s death from 2nd Kings 23…
29 ‘ While Josiah was king, Pharaoh Necho king of Egypt went up to the Euphrates River to help the king of Assyria. King Josiah marched out to meet him in battle, but Necho faced him and killed him at Megiddo. 30 Josiah’s servants brought his body in a chariot from Megiddo to Jerusalem and buried him in his own tomb.’
oh lovely servants, who hold their master’s body … and bless it… care for their King Josiah, who loved Jehovah with all his heart, ( second Kings 23 verse 3 ) and then ….
…then, on to our Lord Jesus, after his crucifixion, after his death… who loved us all to, with, his death, … Jesus, loved by his servants, …
as women who combined their resources to anoint the broken body of Jesus – Luke 23 …
55 ‘The women who had come with Jesus from Galilee followed Joseph and saw the tomb and how his body was laid in it. 56 Then they went home and prepared spices and perfumes. But they rested on the Sabbath in obedience to the commandment.’
They, the women, ‘saw the tomb and how his body ( Jesus’ body ) was laid in it.’ They saw a militated, tortured, whipped body. Flesh flayed , peeling away…bloody and almost unrecognisable. A broken body, yet…
and yet, ‘they rested on the Sabbath.’ After seeing their master’s brokenness, they rested.
When my son Joey died in a car mishap in North Carolina, I flew from NYC to Fort Bragg, to pick up his body to return home to NYC.
I went to the funeral home by myself as my wife and Joey’s estranged wife did want to see Joey if, if his body was badly torn. Joey’s commanding officer drove me to the funeral home.
The director was a woman, a mid aged woman, who led me to Joey. The Captain was to wait outside as she, the director and I went in. Before entering I stopped. I was moved to ask a question;
I asked the Director how she had came this profession, this place of solace. In a sense, a tomb. She was the only woman I had ever seen in such a place, as comforter.
She told me how her baby son died in her arms after his birth. She would not be comforted by any. She could stand loud noises, even worship songs at church. Yet, one day in a Roman Catholic Church, as she sat quiet in meditation, she felt God telling her to go and provide comfort to others.
And so she did. One who could not be comforted became a resting place, a comfort for others. She became a giver of peace to the unresting.
And then she grabbed my right arm, not softly, not in strength. Just to stop me. Capturing my eyes in hers, she said,
‘as I was fixing your son’s body, I felt an anger, a hurting leave him. I felt his life’s hurts leaving him…he is at peace.’
I thanked her. And walked in alone. Joey was in a dark wooden coffin. He did not have a mark on his face or any part of his body. The car he was driving too fast could not manage a turn and went down a gulley to a river stream. Knocked unconscious he drowned.
Joey was at rest.
Josiah’s servants, the anointing women at Jesus’ death, the NC Funeral Director, were, are, hands of comfort, hands of healing, a touch of peace.
My shards are moments given to my life. They are memories that cannot leave. yet, they are also hands of thought and comfort.
With me always, my shards will never leave my heart,
I was pieced, but not to a death. I rest as they serve with their touches
My shards are life, my life. And they speak and heal. That which began in pain, ends with memories of meaning.
My shards renew; they love.
They are mine.
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