Yesterday I attended a funeral that was so sad, my insides hurt.  And my sadness went far beyond the loss that these precious people had suffered.

As I wrote a few posts back, there is a young girl, Davina, within the post-incarceration ministry that I get to be a part of each week.  At full term, she had a stillbirth.  The baby’s name was Mevaeh.  And it was her memorial service that had my soul crying yesterday.

There were only fifteen people in attendance, including my friend Duanna and me.  It took place in a bad part of Denver.  A placed marked by poverty and lostness, where crime is a way of life and there doesn’t seem to be any way out.  The rundown houses and the garbage along the streets tell the story with no words.  Before we even entered the funeral home, our hearts were heavy.

The message that the pastor gave was good.  He told of Jesus’ love and gave a beautiful picture of Mevaeh being in the arms of  Jesus.  But as I looked around at the people who were sitting there crying and mourning the loss of this sweet baby, I wondered if any of this made any sense to them.  Were they understanding this language of love when their world is composed of things so opposite?  Can they comprehend spiritual riches when they are going to drastic measures to survive?  How can they even fathom a pain-free, tear-free, glorious place called heaven when they are living in such want and brokenness?  Does the love of Jesus seem like a fairy tale to them?  Does the thought of Him having a great plan for their lives rank right up there with Santa and the Easter bunny?

These people lead a hard life that has been passed down for generations.  They don’t know anything different.  That pierces my soul.  I am not okay with that or with the thought that they believe that this life of poverty is all that is available, all that they deserve.  The pit in my stomach that left the funeral home with me was an indication of the angst in my heart.

These are the people that Jesus loves, that He came to rescue and save.  The darkness that I experienced yesterday was why He came to bring light.  The feeling of being trapped was why He came to free us.  The hopelessness I felt for them was why He came to bring hope.  The overwhelming sadness was why He brought joy.  And the agony of death in that room was why He came and gave us life.

I guess yesterday was just a very strong visual of ALL OF US.  Of the state of mankind if left to ourselves.  Darkness. Lostness. Hopelessness.  And just as I was not okay with it at the memorial service, just as it wrenched my heart, even more so, God was not okay with it and His heart bled and died for it.

I didn’t grieve for precious little Mevaeh yesterday.  I know beyond the shadow of a doubt that she is running around with Jesus in heaven.  She is healthy and free and alive.  But my heart is heavy for Davina and her family.  Where will they go from here? Will they run from God in anger, or to Him in their grief?  As Davina leaves the safety of the halfway house, will she turn her life around and become all that she can be, or return to her old life that will put her back in the system?

I don’t know.  But I do know this.  Jesus loves her madly, deeply, truly.  He is pursuing her heart.  I have had a few moments to whisper His love in her ear, to pen His care for her on a note.  And now I have to trust, that Jesus has ways that I can’t see and may never see of reaching Davina, of wooing her heart.  And I will keep praying that He does just that….

Luke 19:10 – For the Son of Man came to seek and save those who are lost.

Luke 4:18 – The Spirit of the Lord is on me, because he has anointed me to preach good news to the poor. He has sent me to proclaim freedom for the prisoners and recovery of sight for the blind, to release the oppressed…

John 10:10 – The thief comes only to steal and kill and destroy; I have come that they may have life, and have it to the full.