A couple of months ago, my husband and I embarked on a road trip to attend a memorial service for one of my cousins in a nearby state. He had been a quadriplegic for over fifty years after a tragic high school car accident. I have often wondered why this happened to him, why he had to live so dependent on others all his life. During the drive, that familiar ache for him returned as I reflected on his challenging assignment.
John 13:7 has been one of my comfort verses as I’ve lived through a decade of chronic illness. Hours before picking up history’s heaviest cross, Jesus told His disciples at the Last Supper, “You do not realise now what I am doing, but later you will understand” (John 13:7 NIV). These words seemed to dominate my thoughts as we drove closer to the church for this final goodbye.
It struck me at the memorial service—held in the local high school gymnasium to accommodate all of the attendees—that he was now understanding all that his life had truly entailed. One thing that was mentioned again and again was his positive attitude and the countless others he had inspired and encouraged. The enormous outpouring of admiration was something I’d not seen at a funeral before.
His ninety-nine-year-old father wept bitterly even though the decades of caretaking responsibilities had finally been lifted from him. It seemed to me a poignant testament to a life truly well-lived, even without physical healing, restoration, or answers this side of Heaven.
My cousin certainly wouldn’t have willingly picked up that cross, and no one would have wished it for him, but the deluge of obvious love and respect for his difficult but happy life seemed to give us all hope and perspective as we picked up our own crosses that suddenly seemed so much lighter.
As we drove home from the service, John 13:7 came to mind again, this time with an accompanying sense of peace. Perhaps I will never understand why my cousin’s life unfolded the way it did or why I have battled chronic illness for so long. Perhaps there are situations in your life that you don’t understand yet, either. But Jesus does. And that is all the assurance we need.
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