The Great Thanksgiving: Isaiah’s Adventure Part 11

My Dad sent this email out to our church and I wanted to share it with you all. Thank you all for your love and prayers.

My dear friends,

How fitting that Isaiah’s first full day of glory is a day of Thanksgiving.

Yesterday afternoon, at about 4:20, with Isaiah’s sisters gathered around him, with my hand upon his head and Celeste’s head upon his chest listening to those frail heartbeats, we sang. Singing to the Lord has always been a balm for God’s people, reminding us of the great truths. We sang hymns that we knew Isaiah would have chosen, allowing him to cast his silent vote, and we chose songs ourselves, songs full of the great doctrines concerning salvation and glory.

And when Isaiah’s little heart stopped beating, we were given peace.

Isaiah would need that body again, but in that moment he was no longer there. He had crossed the finish line; he had received the inheritance, who is Christ Jesus, our all in all.

And then came the journey home. We listened to songs that people had sent for our encouragement and we read things people had written to us, giving us their heartfelt cries of affection. We spoke to some dear friends as we watched the world go on around us. It was strange in a way, to leave the hospital with such a heavy heart and to hear, “I hope you guys have a happy Thanksgiving” from ferry attendants and other passersby. And yet, even now, I can say that it will be. It will be a happy Thanksgiving because our hearts are extremely thankful right now. God has been so gracious to us.

When I first got to the hospital and realized that my son might not be leaving with me, I pictured, in my mind, the passing of a baton. It had been our job to safeguard him and love him, Celeste and I were going to be handing that baton to God and then it would be His job. But as the hours wore on, I realized that we had never been the ones truly carrying the baton in the first place. Celeste and I were not the ones who were responsible for filling his lungs with air and causing his heart to beat. We put food on his plate but his body did with it as God determined. We preached the gospel to him and told him of the good news of a Savior but we did nothing to cause him to believe.

The Bible describes our condition as members of Adam’s fallen race, as “dead in sin” and only God can make the dead live. We pointed him to Christ every day but Isaiah’s understanding of the deep things of the faith and Isaiah’s ability and desire to wrestle with things “far beyond his years” were not given to him by us.

I guess what I’ve come to realize is that Isaiah had always been God’s charge, even as we ourselves are in His hands. Trust me when I say, that’s a wonderful place to be…to rest.

I don’t know how many times I’ve read that first question out of the Heidelberg Catechism but it is truly an ageless summary of everlasting comfort for weary hearts.

The question is, “What is your only comfort in life and in death?”

Listen to this incredible answer:

“That I am not my own, but belong body and soul, in life and in death to my faithful Savior, Jesus Christ. He has fully paid for all my sins with his precious blood, and has set me free from the tyranny of the devil. He also watches over me in such a way that not a hair can fall from my head without the will of my Father in heaven; in fact, all things must work together for my salvation. Because I belong to him, Christ, by his Holy Spirit, assures me of eternal life and makes me wholeheartedly willing and ready from now on to live for him.”

If I had been there, could I have stopped the horse? Could I have kept him inside the house? Could I have been cutting his hair, which was something that I told him I had to do that day, much to his dismay?

And then I’m reminded, “He also watches over me in such a way that not a hair can fall from my head without the will of my Father in heaven…”

I can ask myself “what if” questions all day long but at the end of the day, the conclusion is the same. It was Isaiah’s heavenly Father who had been holding the baton. It’s not that it wasn’t “my watch”, it’s that, ultimately, it’s never been my watch, for who can resist his will?

The tears are real. The knot in my gut is real. The numbness in all my members is real. The feeling of helplessness and inability to generate smiles or take away pain from my children…all of that is real. But they are not the greatest reality.

We decided last night that we would no longer call it, “Isaiah’s accident”, rather we will refer to it always as, “Isaiah’s adventure”. Isaiah’s adventure, like all great adventures, was not one he had set out to do that day. It met him. His adventure didn’t end in the Pediatric ICU. His adventure is ongoing and forever.

Isaiah didn’t “miss the holidays”. He’s enjoying them. We are the ones feasting on the scanty tokens while his days are now all holy days where sin no longer reigns. Isaiah is no longer in the “Shadow-Lands”.

“The term is over: the holidays have begun. The dream is ended: this is the morning.” The Last Battle -C.S. Lewis

My friends, enjoy this Thanksgiving Day. Smile, cry, laugh, eat, and while doing so lift up grateful hearts to the King of kings who rules over the affairs of men. Turn off that football game and give genuine praise to the Father of Lights who has given us such a great salvation.

With a thankful heart,

Monty Simao