I found this to be profoundly moving – by R C Sproul, Jr.
Life is liturgy. Habits are holy, I have noticed already, for the passing of my precious daughter Shannon has left me without my tempo. Because of her frailty four times each day Shannon had to be fed. Four times a day she had to be given her water and her medications. Those times come each day and I not only ache for her absence, but I grow dizzy, not knowing where to turn. Serving her was our rhythm, the ticking of our grandfather clock.
While all liturgies are holy, some are more holy than others. While all move us, only one takes us to our end, our destination. When we come to the Lord’s Table we are not merely stopping to remember and contemplate the suffering of Jesus for us. We are not just looking backward, but we are moving forward. We come to taste eternity, for at the table we draw near to Him; we feast with Him. It is not just a miracle in our midst, but puts us together right in the midst of The Miracle, God in the Flesh.
My Shannon, though her faith was obvious to all who knew her, was never able to verbally profess that faith. Because she could not speak she could not speak of her love and need for Jesus. Because she could not profess her faith she was not allowed to eat the bread and drink the wine. Though our Lord is delighted to work through means, to draw uncommonly near through common bread and common wine, He is not so constrained. He did not look to Shannon from a distance, and wish there was something He could do. He is mighty to overcome.
Which is why I added to The liturgy my Liturgy. Whenever and wherever we celebrated the Table of our Lord I kept Shannon close to me. Though she could not take the bread of life, I spoke to her the words of life. I would every time whisper two precious truths into her ear, “Shannon, Jesus is here sweetheart. And Jesus loves you.”
Four days ago as I write Shannon walked through the vale, and through the veil. Yesterday we laid her body to rest. Today, however, we will meet again. Today the Holy Spirit will lift me and my children up into the heavenly places, to the true and eternal Mount Zion, to the souls of just men, and moms and little girls made perfect. Today the church militant and the church triumphant will be one, and will feast together. Today He will draw us to Himself, and we will be one.
Today, for the first time, I will hear Shannon’s voice. At that table, at that feast, in the midst of that liturgy. I, profoundly disabled though I am, will be there. Jesus will feed me. And Shannon will whisper in my ear, “Jesus is here Daddy, and Jesus loves you.” Because He does. World without end. Amen.