“It is written that the Christ would suffer and rise again from the dead the third day…”
—Luke 24:46
It’s been years since I stood by my friend in the hospital. The grueling days of graduate school had forged our friendship. I wanted to be there with him when his wife was in labor, a few hours (they hoped) from giving birth to their third child.
A nurse noted, mistakenly perhaps, the record of my friend’s first child, who had died several years before, only hours after her birth. The mention of her name while his wife was in labor jarred him. His eyes welled up with tears; his lips quivered.
“It’ll be okay,” I said, putting my arm around him, not knowing what words would console and calm him.
“How can you know it’ll be okay? It could happen again, ” he said, his crackling voice expressing frustration with what I’d said.
And I didn’t know it would be okay. How could I? Why did I say that?
I lowered my head, thinking I had hurt rather than helped. Seeing my friend’s pain, I felt small in comparison to the enormity of his emotions: grief from the past and fear for the future. It was another life lesson for me: “When you don’t know what to say, it’s usually best to say nothing.”
And yet, while “it’ll be okay” are usually not the best words to use when someone is facing a potentially traumatic situation, I have learned, down the years, that there is truth in that seemingly naïve statement.
It will be okay in the grand scheme of life and eternity. I’ve looked in the mirror of life more than once and, seeing fear in my face, found courage in repeating those words, “It will be okay.”
Yes, it will be okay.
When a car accident takes a brother’s life, it will be okay.
When a spouse and a brother die of cancer, it will be okay.
When parents pass away, it will be okay.
When a child dies from an accidental drug overdose, it’ll be okay.
When the one you love dearest faces cancer, it’ll be okay.
When sickness attacks those you love, it’ll be okay.
It will be okay when we face trials and tribulations, the outcome of which we can’t, from our myopic perspective, begin yet to fathom.
It’s a statement of faith. And faith is not forged in the easy times, when all is well, when we are gliding across calm waters with the sun warming our backs.
It’s amid the storm with its wind, thunder, and lightning that those words— “it will be okay” — find their subject.
And if we grasp onto the ship’s captain and hold tight to Him, it’s possible to remain faithful and even find calm in the turbulence and peace in the turmoil.
Faith empowered Alexei Navalny ( who converted from atheism to Christianity) to say, “Everything will be all right. And even if it isn’t, we’ll have the consolation of having lived honest lives.”
Of course, it does not seem okay when it’s not okay. That’s why it’s a statement of faith.
It wasn’t okay with the disciples of Jesus at noon on Friday. Had someone whispered, “Everything will be all right,” on Friday afternoon or Saturday night, they would have looked like the wounded animal that got kicked when already hurt.
But then.
There was the third day.
Someone has said, “In the end, it’ll be okay, and if it’s not okay, it’s not the end.”
I had much to learn about what to say or not to say when ministering to people facing fears. In such moments, though some words are valid, they may not be comforting—not the words we should speak in those instances.
But by God’s grace, the truth of those words has sustained me.
As for my friend’s newborn?
It was okay; today, she is a healthy mother of three.
Thank God for the times when joy comes in the morning.
Thank God it is written: “that the Christ would suffer and rise again from the dead…
the third day.”