When sorrows like sea billows roll

On the sudden death of his wife Megan, Brad Franklin was left a single father of seven children. Life became harder, and the grief almost overwhelming. This article is an extract from his recently published book.

I sit writing this, and I’m three and a half years on from Megan’s death.

So much has changed! Our lives today feel so very different from those early days. One thing that time definitely has given me: more opportunities to miss Megan. What do I mean?

Just over three years ago, our daughter won her year group’s sports day race. She nailed it! Funny enough, I missed it – I was collecting our younger son from nursery. Thanks to a kind friend, we have it on video! Megan would have loved to have seen this.

Nearly two years ago, our son started reception. As he walked into school for the first time, holding his big brother’s hand, my heart ached. Not so much because he was growing up. You would think that, wouldn’t you? No, I ached because Megan would have loved to have seen it, but she didn’t.

Then, just last week, our eldest son finished his GCSE’s. It’s an important educational milestone. He worked hard, and he weathered the pressure well. We’ll see how his grades turn out, but we’re pretty sure he’ll do alright. For me, this day brought both joy and sadness. Megan would have wanted to be here to celebrate with him. I took him out for Korean takeaway to mark the day; I reckon we both sensed her absence. Of course we did. Not only is she not there to see it, but the children and I aren’t able to enjoy those moments with her.

I ache for Megan regularly. And, of course, it’s not just the big moments. Countless trivial occurrences bring similar grief:

• Someone describes, in a podcast, how invaluable mums are, especially one’s birth mum. Ooof.

• I hear a happy couple talk about celebrating their 15-year anniversary. Megan and I didn’t quite make it to 15 years. Ach.

• A woman asked us (when I was taking all the children swimming): ‘Where’s mum today, kids? She’s having a lie in, I hope, as dad’s got you all out for a swim.’ Ouch.

• At bedtime, our three-year-old says innocently: ‘My mummy’s in heaven with Jesus.’ Ugh.

Hear me clearly: I didn’t ache for Megan because people are insensitive – the podcaster, the happy couple, the woman at the pool and, of course, our three-year-old, have no fault here at all! Mercifully, I don’t think we told the woman at the pool the whole story. We just smiled and nodded.

Fact is: you shouldn’t read this and be afraid to talk about your life in front of a widower! This way of thinking is akin to single people in the church being angry and feeling slighted that pastors (and Scripture) speak mostly to married people. Scripture is pretty certain single people are sensible and can make application to their own lives! Widows and widowers need not be offended that people aren’t always thinking of them and their sorrows. We all must be aware of envy here. The truth is, I ache for Megan because she isn’t here, and countless normal-life moments have and do remind me of her. I miss her still, even almost four years on.

I ache. We ache. It’s worth saying: this ache isn’t wrong. In fact, it’s to-be-expected.

Our ache reminds us of our sin and its consequences. In Genesis 3, God told Adam that he would surely die. ‘Dust you are and to dust you will return’’ (Gen.3:19). As Adam, our covenant head, goes, so we all go. Despite the claims of the serpent, our sin is lethal. We are all living now, but we will all die. Many have died before us, and if Jesus delays, many more will die after us. There is ‘a time to be born and a time to die’ (Ecc. 3:2).

We should expect this ache, and it is, if rightly used, profitable. Death can and should prompt us to turn to Jesus, the second and greater Adam, in whom we find life: ‘For the wages of sin is death, but the gift of God is eternal life in Christ Jesus our Lord’ (Rom.6:23). Yet though the Christian finds forgiveness and eternal life in the covenant of grace, the ache still persists. I know it does for me.

As we deal with our pain, these two certainties provide comfort and assurance:

First, God is aware of my aches, and He is with me in them. ‘Precious in the sight of the Lord is the death of his faithful servants’ (Ps.116:15). Something that’s ‘precious’ to us is something that we treasure.

God doesn’t treat the death of His faithful servants carelessly. Megan’s death was precious in God’s sight. As her death is precious, so too is its impact. God is aware of my aches. He’s aware of the painful walk into reception, and He’s aware of the woman at the pool. ‘Yet the Lord longs to be gracious to you; therefore he will rise up to show you compassion. For the Lord is a God of justice. Blessed are all who wait for him!’ (Isa.30:18).

But God is not merely moved with compassion in my heartache, He is also firmly with me in my pain. He was with Israel during her exile in Babylon, and He would be with her when He brought her out. These promises have clear application to all God’s people: ‘When you pass through the waters, I will be with you; and when you pass through the rivers, they will not sweep over you. When you walk through the fire, you will not be burned; the flames will not set you ablaze. For I am the Lord your God, the Holy One of Israel, your Saviour. … Since you are precious and honoured in my sight, and because I love you, I will give people in exchange for you, nations in exchange for your life. Do not be afraid, for I am with you; I will bring your children from the east and gather you from the west’ (Isa.43:2-5).

Do you hear that ‘precious’ language again? God is always with us. The ‘ache’ may be there, but it will not destroy us. Why? Because the Holy One of Israel, our Saviour is with us. We need not be afraid. He loves us, and will always be with us. We don’t ache alone. Isn’t this comforting?

Second, my ache will end. This life is painful, but this life will soon be over. This life is filled with weeping, but we will not always weep. Jesus said: ‘Very truly I tell you, you will weep and mourn while the world rejoices. You will grieve, but your grief will turn to joy. A woman giving birth to a child has pain because her time has come; but when her baby is born she forgets the anguish because of her joy that a child is born into the world. So with you: now is your time of grief, but I will see you again and you will rejoice, and no one will take away your joy’ (John 16:20-22).

I’d ask you to imagine a world without death, grieving and the ache, but you can’t do it. Our more normal sorrows and corresponding joys (labour and childbirth) give us a glimpse into what it must be like, but we still can’t fathom it. Hear these words again: ‘You will rejoice, and no one will take away your joy.’ Amazing. Wonderful. Good. That day is coming, friends.

God is with us now. But in that day, He will dwell with us in fullness. ‘And I heard a loud voice from the throne saying, “Look! God’s dwelling-place is now among the people, and he will dwell 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”’ (Rev.21:3-4). What a day that will be! No more ache! Not even a twinge.

Brothers and sisters, God has promised it, and it will come to pass. You ache now, but you won’t then. The old order of things will pass away. No more: ‘Ooof,’ ‘Ach,’ ‘Ouch,’ ‘Ugh’ or ‘Argh.’ Not a one. Never again.

If God gives me a few more years, these three and a half years will give way to 20 or 40. It will pass like a breath. It has already. I know that the children and I will still ache. It may mute slightly, but I reckon it will occasionally return with a fervour. And rightly so.

But amidst the ache in that day and every day, we will have all the comfort and assurance we need: ‘But Christ has indeed been raised from the dead, the firstfruits of those who have fallen asleep. For since death came through a man, the resurrection of the dead comes also through a man. For as in Adam all die, so in Christ all will be made alive. But each in turn: Christ, the firstfruits; then, when he comes, those who belong to him. Then the end will come, when he hands over the kingdom to God the Father after he has destroyed all dominion, authority and power. For he must reign until he has put all his enemies under his feet. The last enemy to be destroyed is death’ (1 Cor.15:20–26).

Praise be to God. Though we ache today, our resurrected Saviour will bring this day to close and usher in a new and better day. Brad’s book is called When Sorrows Like Sea Billows Roll and is published by Grace Publications (gracepublications.co.uk). In the book, Brad recounts his story in 32 short reflections. With a pastor’s heart, he charts a course through the waves of grief – applying Bible truths to times of sorrow. This book is not merely a memoir, it’s a God-centred travel guide through grief. Its aim is to help readers become more like Christ in their sorrows and to glorify God in their grief.