Story Blog: Benoni Part Two, By Adam Graham

Continued from: Part One.

I walked over to the nursery and sat outside, exhausted, waiting for news, any news.

Not again, not today. Why did this day always bring with it such misery, such sorrow?

I cried out to God, “Why do you hate me? Why? You’ve taken my brother and now you’re going to take my wife! I hate you!”

I slumped in my chair. How could I live without Juliet’s humor? Her joy? Her love? How could I raise a child on my own? Fear choked me until my eyes closed.

Sometime later, I opened my eyes. A man in a white tunic stood next to me. “Robert.”

“Who are you?” And how did he know my name?

“You know me, or you did before you let grief consume you.”

Hey, he looked like an actor who played Jesus in a movie I’d once seen. “Jesus?”

He nodded. “This is the only way you’d recognize me. I don’t look anything like this. It’s hard to get blonde hair and blue eyes when you’re born in the Middle East. But, I’m not concerned about that.”

“Why are you here?”

“To comfort you.”

“Will she live?”

“That’s not the key to peace.”

“All the peace in this world was blown up with the twin towers and the Pentagon.”

“All of this world’s peace. But, the peace I offer you is not what the world gives you.”

“Why did you let my brother die?”

He sat in the chair beside mine. “That’s a good question. May I ask you one?”

“Okay.” Where was he going with this?

“Why did I let him live?”

What? “I don’t understand.”

“Life is a candle. It’s a blade of grass. It is extinguished and it fades away. Yet, many never even get to live. Large numbers die in the womb through abortion and miscarriage. Some are stillborn and some live less than six months. Your brother could have been amongst those. Instead, he lived. All men are like Jonah. I sent a great gourd to give him shade. Did Jonah declare thanksgiving and gladness at having shade? No, but he knew who to be upset with when it withered away.”

Had I ever thanked God for my brother? No. To me, my brother wasn’t a gift from God, he was my brother. He was always there encouraging me, pushing me on to do more in God. When he was away, he sent me letters and somehow managed to spend half an hour on the phone with me every month. I never thanked God for my brother.

I bit my lip. “I understand what you’re saying, but I need to know why!”

“Would you like the long answer or the short one?”

“I want a complete answer.”

Jesus smiled. “All right. First, you must understand the entire universe and how it functions. Then, the purposes and reasons behind all things under the sun.”

“Perhaps, I should just take the short answer.”

“It was his time to go home.”

“He was only was twenty-five!” I shouted. “He wasn’t ready to go! He hadn’t gotten married or even seen everything he worked for come to pass.”

“He finished his course. He kept the faith. I never promised you anything but the moment you’re living in. As long as you live in this body of flesh, what will happen to it is unpredictable by man.”

My lip quivered. “But, don’t You protect us?”

Jesus nodded. “As much as my Father protected me. He saved Me out of the hands of Herod and out of the hands of My own people when they tried to stone me, but allowed Me to suffer and die on the cross. I saved your brother from some dangerous tribes which would have killed him years ago, but it was his time.”

“What about my wife? Will she live?”

“I’m not here to let you know what’s going to happen, I’m here to give you peace no matter what occurs. I didn’t promise that your bodies would live forever, in fact the opposite is true. It’s still appointed to man once to die, and then the judgment. What I promise is that whatever happens tonight, you can see both your wife and your brother again in Heaven. There is no such thing as an eternal parting to those in Christ.”

“Heaven’s great, but how does a single father with a full-time job raise a child on his own? I’m not built for that. I can’t do it alone.”

Jesus took his hand. “If it comes to that, I’ll be with you. No matter who leaves you, I never will. In addition, your wife’s church will help. They love her and would help take care of her child. Whether you know it or not, they love you, too. They haven’t been judging you these past two years as you’ve accused them. They’ve been praying for you, because they want you to get back your joy and peace.”

“They’d help me?”

“Of course, that’s why churches are there, to love one another. There are many burdens that can’t be carried alone, so the church lifts up the burdens of those who need help. Whatever else a church may do, if it doesn’t do that, it’s not a true church.”

“Do you hate me? I’ve spent the last two years cursing you.”

“I love you. I’ve never stopped loving you. But, up until now, you haven’t been ready to listen. I never gave up on you and nothing would make me more happy than to be with you forever.”

His eyes were filled with such a pure love that I was overwhelmed. I reached out to hug Him. “I’m so sorry, Jesus.”

He disappeared, leaving me alone in the waiting room. I wept as I got up from my chair and called a member of the church’s prayer chain. I told her what had happened to my wife and she prayed with me. Several ladies joined me at the hospital within an hour.

I prayed hard to God for not only my wife, but for forgiveness. That last part came easy, the first part kept me in suspense until at 7:45 a.m. the doctor came out. “It was touch and go for a while, but she’s pulled through.”

We all rejoiced. I said, “Can I see her?”

The doctor shook his head. “Not yet, she needs rest before she’ll be ready for visitors.”

I drove home to catch some Z’s and slept until noon. I got up and went and bought rolls of film and picture frames and drove down to the hospital, albeit a little more carefully than last time.

When I arrived, Juliet was sitting up. I hugged her and began to cry. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

They brought the baby in, who in the midst of all of this concern over Juliet had been forgotten. Fourteen hours after he was born, I took my new son in my arms.

“What should we name him?” Juliet asked. “Are you still insisting on Robert Junior?”

“No, I’m thinking Benjamin, actually.”

“Why Benjamin?”

“One of my brother’s favorite Bible stories was of the birth of Benjamin. Benjamin’s birth killed his mother and she named him Benoni, which means son of my misfortune. His father, Jacob, changed the name to Benjamin, “the Son of my right hand” recognizing that despite all the pain his birth caused, he was still a wonderful blessing from God.”

Juliet nodded. “Then Benjamin it will be.”

I spent the next hour holding my son and taking pictures of him and his mother until I filled up all the albums and frames I bought.

I’ve gone back to Church and started praying and reading the Bible again. Every day, I thank the Lord for two special gifts, my wife and my son.