Today I drank a peach milkshake and cried.

Far from being emotional over ice cream, I was flooded with memories. Though my dad has been gone 15 years, I still miss him. So when my kids and I went to get milkshakes, I couldn’t stop the tears as I sipped bits of peach through my straw. When he was in the final stages of renal cell carcinoma, peach milkshakes were among the few pleasurable foods my dad could tolerate. I bought him one the day he died in an attempt to ease his discomfort. Like our time together, it remained unfinished.

Few things redefine our lives like the death of someone we love. John’s account of Lazarus’ death brings the compassion of Christ into sharp focus. Jesus knew that Lazarus would live again (John 11:11), but He still wept as He saw him lying in the tomb (v.34).

Overcome by their loss, Martha and Mary (in separate instances) say to Jesus when He finally arrives: “Lord, if only you had been here, my brother would not have died” (vv.21,32). One distinct difference, however, marks their responses. Scripture tells us, “When Mary arrived and saw Jesus, she fell at his feet” (v.32). Because she had been willing to sit at Jesus’ feet in sweet fellowship (Luke 10:39), Mary had no trouble falling at His feet in her moment of crisis.

Two women—the same question, but dramatically different postures. Intimacy defined the difference.

God doesn’t ask us to embrace our loss with gladness. Confident of His love for us, we are to trust His goodness in spite of our pain. Matthew 5:4 says, “God blesses those who mourn, for they will be comforted.” When we choose to worship despite our loss, He becomes our comfort, the very presence of peace in our lives (Isaiah 9:6).