Hearing
the tragic news about the death of Matthew Warren, Rick Warren’s son, stirred
up deep feelings in me. I realized that we had much in common – so much so that
but for God’s mercy his story could have been mine. We were fairly close in
age, both Christians raised in Christian homes with parents who do some kind of
ministry (my father has even worked with Rick Warren on a project), and we both
struggled with mental illness for years. But I pulled out of it (more or less),
while Matthew never did. This is a terrible time for the Warren family, and
although I know nothing I say can heal this grief, I am offering my prayers to
the One who can. I dedicate this poem to Matthew Warren and hope it will bring
some kind of catharsis and/or comfort to those who are grieving.
To My
Fallen Comrade
It was
a weary, lonely fight we fought
Standing
side by side, yet miles and miles apart
Upon
the blackened landscape of our thoughts.
With
all our strength we strove each morning,
Wrestling
our weary bodies from the beds
Where
we had fought, bled, wept
For
sleep that fled.
With
every breath we breathed we choked
Upon
the black and burning smoke that cloaked
Our
every move, obscuring sight,
With
darkness deafening our ears
To
words of hope.
We
struggled through the days, weeks, months and years,
Begging
our Lord for peace that did not come,
Striking
at shadows, never knowing
Where
to swing to smite the beast
That battered,
bruised and broke our hearts until they hurt to beat
And
every breath burned.
How did
I escape that battelefield
To find
this sweet oasis where the air
Is
clear and light can fill my eyes?
But
you, my brother both in faith and battle blood,
Are
fallen, and my heart is filled with tears.
I long
to tear into that demon in the dark
That
stole you from this world
With so
much joy untasted,
With so
much good undone,
But
there is nothing I can do.
So
rest, my brother, in the sleep that once fled
Until
the day when agony and death will lie dead
And we
will dance where once the darkness reigned
And
weep no more.
