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It's Personal

It's Personal

by Tom Deviney on March 09, 2022

On February 11th, we interred my mother’s ashes and a portion of my stepfather’s ashes in my father’s grave in Seaside Memorial Park, Corpus Christi. My stepfather died on January 20th. He had always wanted some of his ashes buried with my mother, so her ashes had been held for almost ten years. (The other portion of his ashes will be buried at a later date with those of his widow.) Jim was a Mississippi farm boy, US Marine, industrial electrical supplier, rancher, church usher and trustee, and – most important – wonderful son, husband, father, grandfather, and great-grandfather. My mother was blessed with 36 great years with my father and then another 25 great years with Jim. As I stood there at that grave, I reflected that my stepfather, grandmother, father-in-law, mother, and sister all have died near the beginning of Lent.

When I was young, Lent was something the Roman Catholics did. I had little understanding of what it meant beyond seeing people with ashes on their forehead and hearing about what they had “given up for Lent.” (The season of Lent actually gets its name from the Old English “lencten” – the time of year when the days lengthen. That tidbit didn’t help me understand much, either.) When I began ministry, I tried to understand Lent and practice some kind of self-denial. I am not sure I truly understood why or that it had much impact. I simply felt obligated.

As death began to claim my family, Lent began to take on new reality as a recognition of mortality. Death wasn’t some abstract concept. Death had become a familiar part of our family. When my sister died, I was hit hard. In my struggle to understand and come to peace with her death, the Holy Spirit brought me to a new understanding: the Gospel is personal. The Gospel is not about God loving the world in general. The Gospel is about God, in Jesus, loving my sister, and me, and you, in a very personal and particular way. Jesus didn’t die on the cross for humanity, in general. Jesus died on the cross for my sister, for me, and for you. Jesus didn’t rise from the grave for humanity, in general. Jesus rose up for my sister, for me, and for you.

As that reality began to seep into my soul, I remembered a teaching that we don’t simply give something up for Lent. We give up something to make room in our lives for something greater. Cindi and I began to give up eating out so often in order to support Mobility Worldwide (aka PETs) with enough money to build one cart. It was a small act of dying to ourselves to be raised with Christ. That was a richer understanding of Lent. Then I travelled to developing areas of the world. I saw and felt the raw need. I saw video “thanks” from people receiving these carts. And it hit me, again, that the Gospel is personal. We were giving up a small convenience so that someone else could receive a life-giving gift. That was a good thing. But when I saw their face, I was overwhelmed by God’s love for them. God took our simple act and used it to love in a very personal and particular way.

The Gospel is personal. Jesus died and rose for me – and for each and every one of you. Lent is now the season when I sink into that reality – almost like an extended sabbath. I expect the Holy Spirit to touch the tender parts of my heart. His grief touches and heals my grief. His joy raises up my heart. Again, I claim the crucifixion and resurrection for me, for those I love, and for each of you – not in abstract generalities, but in specific love.

As I watched my granddaughter playing around my parents’ grave, I could feel their love and joy that she was there. I could feel God’s love and joy around all of us, even in a time of grief. I thanked God for sharing such rich blessings of love with our family. After all, we had done nothing to earn such blessing. And as the Holy Spirit whispered “Love” in my ear, I knew: It’s personal.

Be Blessed,
Tom

Tags: love, death, lent, personal

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