God's Prevailing Goodness Through Suffering and Loss

“Do you want to preach Friday? The favor of God is upon your life!” Those were the words spoken to me by my sister and church scheduler on the way back home from a private screening of Am I Racist. I was able to interview Benyam Capel from the film, my family met the owner of Emagine, and I received loads of praise from people of influence over my platform, Black Tea News. My family was beaming with pride, especially my mother. She loved going to the movies, so the VIP treatment was a welcome experience. Capel also lauded my mother for the excellent job she had done raising seven children. No doubt, the favor of God was on my life.

I got the feeling Katrina was expecting I’d be in a position to preach the house down with an inspiring message about blessings and breakthroughs, but God had been dealing with me about another topic for about two months. I knew that I had to teach on it, but it wasn’t supposed to be during a Bible study. I was supposed to preach to the entire congregation. I was waiting for my opportune moment, so I told Katrina, “Sure.”

The next day, I had a headache and felt a little nauseous. I canceled my live stream, so I could try to sleep it off. I couldn’t allow my affliction to stop me from delivering this sermon. I knew it was important. I woke up an hour and a half before service, got dressed, and scribbled a couple of notes and scriptures down.

After praise and worship, Katrina called me up to the front. “Church, what Christina has to say tonight is very important, and I feel that we have to grab hold of whatever she’s going to speak into our lives.” She continued revving it up, and the way the church cheered, I assumed they were expecting a fiery sermon on victory or abundance. When Katrina was done praying, I walked to the back with my raised hands slowly lowering as the weight of their expectations piled on. My youngest sister, Tina, was working the sound booth, and I motioned her to come close.

“My sermon is on suffering.”

Her eyes widened. It’s not what you necessarily want to hear, and it’s frightening to know that you need to hear it. Ironically, I was already physically suffering. The nausea had passed, but my head was still throbbing.

But I had to persist.

When I took the microphone, I testified about my tremendous Thursday night, I sang “I’m a Lover of Your Presence,” and then began to preach.

I taught how Christians often have an idea of escapism as if they’re not supposed to go through anything, but God told Ananias the Apostle Paul was called to suffer for Christ’s sake. Paul did suffer, but his suffering taught him that God’s grace is sufficient. Christians sing songs about how God will never put more on us than we can bear, but that’s not true. The point is that we’re supposed to cast our cares upon God, and Christians are called to bear each other’s burdens. God is near to the brokenhearted and the crushed in spirit (Psalm 34:18).

I spoke of different moments in my life when I fought so hard to get through financially, spiritually, etc., but I needed to open up to other people. I needed to open up to Tina when I struggled with depression years ago. I needed to open up to Katrina when I was emotionally overwhelmed with a financial issue about a month ago. God helped me through those times, but I didn’t get through those times alone. God used and anointed the people in my life to minister to my heart.

The moment the church truly seemed to grasp onto the sermon was when I spoke about how God delivered me from depression, even though outwardly, nothing had changed. I still had to get up and go stock shelves at 4 AM in Target, while my talents were being slept on by the world. But God had given me peace. And after the peace that passeth all understanding came over me, God enacted a change in my life.

Everyone said it was a good and needed word. Some of the members testified about it on Sunday, and then my brother preached on making a stronger commitment. I personally saw it as a sequel to the call to bear each other’s burdens. God wanted us to do and be more as a congregation. During the sermon, I gazed at my mother serval times. She looked so beautiful in her pink Calvin Klien dress, and the sleeves were cut to look like flower petals. I wished so very much that I had taken a picture.

The congregation chatted after the service, and then I went home with my sister. It seemed very much like a normal day.

At about 5 AM the next day, Katrina came into my room quivering. The paramedics were working on Mom, who was unresponsive. It took a moment to register what she had said. My mother wasn’t sick. Mom watched what she ate and exercised every night. What Katrina said couldn’t be true, but the wails of my brother and father over the phone made it undeniable. Even worse than the wails were the moments of silence when we didn’t have answers.

I prayed. I prayed, declared, and decreed with all the belief I could muster, but the paramedics eventually pronounced her dead. Even then, I didn’t want to accept it. But even if God was willing to bring her back, I questioned if it were selfish of me to wish for it. If one person is in Heaven, it’s her.

In hindsight, we discovered that Mom had already passed by the time my sisters found her body. Doctors said there wasn’t anything we or they could have done. She died quickly and there shouldn’t have been any pain. I find solace in that.

On the way to my parents’ house, my sermon kept coming to mind. Even then, it didn’t seem real. Even when I saw her body on the living room floor and my family gathered around, it didn’t seem real. Even when the coroner arrived, I was still half expecting her to sit up and say, “Whatcha cryin’ fo’?” in her Detroit country accent.

It didn’t become real until I went over to my sister’s house and overheard my niece’s high-pitched sobs after Angelina broke the news. “Momma Isa’s dead?”

I called a friend just after leaving her house to break the news. Speaking those words was like breaking a dam door open, and I had to pull over on the side of the road while Merideth told me to breathe.

Later, my father spoke to my uncle in disbelief that God did this without warning, but I had to correct him. I began to talk about my sermon, how God had been dealing with me to preach on that topic, and how Katrina spoke to the congregation about how we needed to receive what I was about to teach. My uncle was floored. “Was it hard to preach that?”

“It was hard because I was sick, but I thought it was a general message. I didn’t know it was going to apply to me after two days.”

I can’t explain why God took my mother so soon. Her mother lived to be 102. We only buried Momma Myra a few years ago, also in September. We thought we’d have another 30 years with my mom. There were so many things we wanted to do for our mother and so many things we believed God together for as a family and as a ministry. I couldn’t imagine a future without her.

But I can’t be mad at God. He’s been too good throughout the years for me to be angry, even if I can’t understand. If God had told us plainly that Mom was going to die, we wouldn’t have wanted to receive it. How would we have even prepared for that? And Mom would have been mortified if we lived with that kind of burden. God told us what we needed to know. Beyond the sermon, little thoughts came to us about funerals. A few weeks ago, we had a conversation after church with Mom about life insurance. We knew she had a small policy on herself and a bigger one on Dad. Tina said “Hallelujah Anyway” came on K-Love, and she had an eerie feeling that her life was about to be derailed. God speaks. The question is, do you want to listen? We’re not always going to like what God has to say. Nevertheless, God is sovereign. Whether he gives or takes life is completely his prerogative.

Since Mom’s passing, we have found comfort in our church, family, and friends. I’ve seen the goodness of God, even in the funeral arrangements. The blessings of God are still coming in, and I thank God for the compassion he’s placed on people’s hearts toward my family. We are bearing each other’s burdens, just as we are called to do.

My mother taught us to play with one another, to work with one another, and to pray with and for one another. She already prepared us to endure difficult moments like these. My mother is a rare ruby, indeed, the type of woman that you read about in Proverbs 31.

We have to go on and remember what she taught us. Mom would want us to find strength in the Lord, and in each other. She didn’t only give birth to her seven children. She discipled us. So, I’ll leave you with the last words she wrote in her notebook: “I am with you always, even unto the end of the world,” (Matthew 28:20).