The Jacket

                                                               The Jacket


Somewhere in Jessica Ghawi's apartment is a jacket. It is a man's large. It may be on the back of chair or hanging in a closet. It doesn't matter. Like everything else in that home, its intention, use, and purpose changed when Jessica was killed in the Aurora movie massacre. So many items in her home meant to be enjoyed, tasted, touched, seen, heard, utilized, and worn sit in silence now. Family and friends will come and sigh, and pack and cry. They may take a few things to remember. Many things will probably be given to Goodwill in the name of one who suffered such ill-will. The man's sized large jacket will probably be one of them. It was my son's.

 After the shooing at the Aurora movie theater that killed twelve, Clay and I talked about the tragedy. A few hours later he called back when he learned that Jessica, the aspiring sports reporter from San Antonio was one of the ones killed. He knew her socially. He had been to her apartment just to hang out with mutual friends, transplanted Texans, Aggie Club members. He forgot his jacket. 

This scene is being repeated in various forms all around Denver, at least twelve times over and fifty something times, though not as permanent, for the injured. Emily Dickinson could write poems and words about death and loss like no other. Of the pain of death, its horror, its numbing and acuteness, she said this: 
                                               The bustle in a house the morning after death
                                               Is the solemnest of industries enacted upon earth
                                               Sweeping up the heart and putting love away
                                               We shall not want to use again until eternity.

We analyze, we think, we ponder at such senselessness, such unimaginable loss, but we can't figure it out.
It's scope is beyond us. It is a present darkness, a reality in this world that we all encounter at various times,  but it is also incomprehensible. The only thing that comes close to it in my mind which I find hard to fathom is the Light, Presence, Love and Grace of God. His patience, forbearance, His forgiveness, His love is a reality that is often taken for granted but more real than the the presence of evil. With that hideous strength (my apologies Mr. Lewis) of freedom and choice He has given us, the world has so often chosen wrongly, selfishly, stupidly, sinfully. But in His love God has chosen to redeem, free, forgive, and change our eternity. It is a costly process. We would often not pay the price. Just ask the families of those who have died so senselessly. But God keeps moving history to His glorious ends. We can endure, because He has endured. He has kept in mind the end, the promise and deemed it worth the cost paid in this life.  And listen to His promise:  And I heard a loud voice from the throne saying, "Now the dwelling of God is with men, and He will live with them. They will be His people, and God Himself will be with them and be their God. He will wipe every tear from their eyes. There will be no more death or mourning or crying or pain, for the old order of things has passed away."  He who was seated on the throne said, " I am making everything new!"   Rev. 21:1-5

Laughter that was silenced will fill heaven. Voices cut short will sing praises again. Eyes closed to the beauty of the world will if Christ is their Savior, see beauty and glory no human words could explain. Sounds, tastes, feelings, and especially love lost, will be multiplied by a thing called eternity. Hold on by faith and trust the One who can bring life, even Jesus, the Christ.

Cos