His words made me slip. The knife sliced through the tomato and continued right into my hand. Somehow, the throbbing in my flesh felt better than the emotional pain that had just been inflicted. The knife met the meat of my palm, but instead of stopping, (simply because it was supposed to) it continued on, through layers of skin, into muscle. A straight line clearly separated the two halves of my hand before the blood began seep out and make a mess of things. I cursed inside, just a little.

I looked up to him. Wouldn’t have minded being like him someday. He had so many qualities and said so many things that I would have loved to have attributed to myself. He built my self-esteem up when it was at a zero. He taught me about life, God and friends and now, he was making the decision to pull out of my life. “Things weren’t just the same” he said.

* * *

The disciples kicked dust and rocks as they trudged to their destination. Their sandals felt thinner than before. Their shoulders heavier. They felt like they had given so much to follow that Jesus, and now He was dead. If He wasn’t alive, then how could they believe a word He said? He said some wonderful things, too. That hurt almost as much as his crucifixion did for them. Their defeat was a crushing blow to what they believed would be a new way of life. What a letdown. (Luke 24)

* * *

I didn’t know if it was worse that I was losing a friend and mentor, or if I now doubted every encouraging word he ever offered me. He was one of those guys who, if he complimented you, it meant something special. It made you feel valuable. He had experience, and knew people. What did that say about you? Did he mean any of it? Probably not if he could just leave like this.

* * *

Fortunately, Jesus showed up as they continued to walk. He encountered them in the middle of their disappointment. He allowed them to talk, to share their grief, then revealed Himself to them. Imagine their joy, the immediate dissipation of overwhelming grief by the One you miss the most beats any other solution or condolence offered by any other individual. Nothing can top that.

It was even better that it was the savior. Who cared that they saw him nailed to a cross not long ago? He was here now, and that meant everything would be alright.

* * *

That said, I had to realize that my friend couldn’t function as my savior. Good thing too, because he’s not back. The situation didn’t change, and he’s still out of my life. Fortunately, I haven’t lost my salvation, or the way of life that I have chosen to follow. I still doubt some of the things said to me, but then again, grief will do that do you. Especially when heroes choose to die.

** This was written for the Blog Carnival that Peter Pollock so nicely puts together. Check it out. There are a bunch of seriously amazing writers involved!