We like to talk, even prophesy, about the sudden moves of God. The consideration of those sudden moves produces hope-filled conversations and raises our eyes to the horizon of the future in expectancy of what God might do. There is another kind of suddenly. 

That kind of suddenly can produce sorrow, fear, and dread. One morning we might awaken and turn over in bed to find that our spouse has left this world. A sudden surprise attack could cause our nation to enter the horrors of another world war. Our fragile and compromised banking system might collapse in the near future leaving trusting depositors holding an empty bag of retirement savings. 

This life is filled with the possibility that sudden events will radically shake the foundation of our lives and leave us asking “Why?” It is hard to prepare for those moments, but it’s not impossible.

Recently, a good friend of ours found out he had a very aggressive form of brain cancer. When something like this happens, it hits close to home. Our friend’s situation prompted conversations between Jan and me about life and death. We’ve had those conversations before and have made preparations for when one of us leaves this world never wanting to shy away from the subject of death.

In our conversation about our friend’s cancer, we came down to a foundational truth expressed by Paul, “For to me, to live is Christ, and to die is gain” (Philippians 1:21). Paul wrote that verse while incarcerated in a Roman prison. The Lord’s presence abides with us through all this life throws at us even when our belief appears too simplistic and even ineffectual by some not involved in the pain of our experience. That is the nature and expression of faith. It does not require sight to believe. It is the substance of things not yet seen, even the whereabouts of Jesus in a moment of sudden change.

No matter the depth of our loss, fear, or trauma, Jesus is always present in those experiences even though it might be hard at first to understand what has taken place or why it was allowed to happen, especially when the pain is so intense that it feels like an emotional evisceration. 

After Jan and I reaffirmed the reality that no matter what happens in this life, His presence will always be with us, even when the sudden events of life turn our lives upside down. That understanding was the motivation for the inscription on the gravestone we recently purchased so our kids would have one less thing to do upon our passing, “together in His presence.” He is always with us no matter what happens.

“Even though I walk through the darkest valley, I will not be afraid, for you are close beside me” (Psalm 23:4).