The Savior told His disciples repeatedly that he would die and then rise again (Matthew 20:19, Mark 8:31, Mark 10:34, Luke 18:33, Luke 24:7), but each time they were confused and weren't sure what He meant. After all, who else had been resurrected before?
||And they kept that saying with themselves, questioning one with another what the rising from the dead should mean.|| Mark 9:10
Yet, the theme of rising again is prevalent throughout much of Christ's ministry. He said to the man with the withered hand, ||Rise up, and stand forth in the midst. And he arose and stood forth|| (Luke 6:8). He said to the man at the pool of Bethseda, ||Rise, take up thy bed, and walk||(John 5:8). He said to Martha, referring to Lazarus, ||Thy brother shall rise again|| (John 11:23). He said to the daughter of Jairus, ||arise||(Mark 5:41). It seems there is a pattern of the Savior offering healing, and then commanding the healed to ||rise up||.
Following the death of my son, I felt such a chasm in my heart, I wondered if it could really be healed. I knew the Savior promised over and over throughout scripture that He could heal us, but the wound seemed too deep, could His atonement really penetrate that far? Could He really bind up that which was shattered in pieces? I didn't know, but I believed He could. He had always been there for me before, so I went forward in faith.
When my son was in the hospital, I thought the Father was bringing me to the ultimate test of my faith. I thought nothing could require more faith than believing God could bring my son back from the brink of death, and as the weeks passed on I knew I had that faith. I knew He could do it. I knew the scriptures were true, and so I knew through His Son, He could raise my son again. And so I waited, and waited, and waited until my little boy drew his last breath. It was in the days following his death, as we walked away from his casket in the snow, that I realized perhaps carrying on even after I didn't get the miracle I desired, could require more faith than the actual miracle itself.
So I've cried, and as I mentioned in my last post, I've gone to Him time and time again in the aftermath, and the chasm is closing. And I feel Him whisper to me, as He heals my heart, ||Daughter, rise up.|| He wants me to utilize the strength found in His atonement to stand tall again and go forward. He doesn't want me to spend the rest of my life in a dark hole of sorrow, He wants me to trust Him and keep going. And I feel my little boy, Morgan, wants the same thing. So every day I rise up, believing that when the Savior promised He could raise the dead, it means He could also raise those up who have been hurt in it's wake.
||I am the resurrection, and the life: he that believeth in me, though he were dead, yet shall he live: And whosoever liveth and believeth in me shall never die|| (John 11:25-26).