A Photo From Hell

There it was in the "Atlanta Journal-Constitution," a photo straight from hell.* Can a picture on the front page of a newspaper carry theological freight? This one did and a ton of it.+

There, for the world to see, is Dave Rowe, white beard and hair, sunglasses in place, dressed in blue jeans and motorcycle vest complete with insignia of trips and travel. Behind him we see grass already summer green and manicured. He's on his knees, bent forward. He's extending his tanned and tattooed right arm and has placed his hand on the shoulder of a younger woman.

The woman is Rebecca Rowe. She's on her knees too, but she's sitting back, resting on the calves of her legs. Her hands, both of them, embrace her temples. Her fingers extend into her blonde hair. She bends her head downward, looking at the ground. We see her nose, but we can't read her eyes; sunglasses hide them. Just a bit of her mouth shows in the photograph. She's dressed in blue jean shorts with a white top. A digital camera hangs from her neck by a grey strap and is resting on her stomach. She has two bracelets, one on each arm. She's expecting; a baby is soon to be born to Rebecca Rowe.

It is a picture of two people in pain, terrible pain. Dave Rowe, on his knees, with his right arm on Rebecca, is leaning over the tombstone of his son Michael D., Army Sgt. Michael D. Rowe. Rebecca is his daughter-in-law. We see the back of the grave marker and on it five numbers and a letter 402 54 - A.

Dave Rowe is kissing the grave stone of his son and at the same time extending a human touch to his son's wife made widow by war in March. It is a picture that makes the viewer want to leap into it and hug both of them and say, "I'm so sorry."

It's a picture of Hamartiology 101, the doctrine of sin and it's in living color. That one picture says so much: war, death, grief, pain, suffering, tears, despair, longing, and a host of things felt which can find no words for expression. Is there a word for the longings of a child who will never ever know the father war took? Is there a vocabulary for a woman's heart made empty by a battlefield? Are there words for the stark, stunned shock when the news comes of a husband suddenly lost, never to be regained in the here and now?

It's a picture straight out of Genesis 3, the Fall of Man. A thousand million fathers and mothers too have kissed the markers of sons they sent off to history's wars. A thousand million widowed women have buried their hands in their hair since Genesis 3 and cursed the day the news came. A thousand million children have looked at their fathers' pictures and wondered what the flesh and blood person was really like.

Did Adam have any idea what havoc he'd wreaked on the human race to come when he rebelled? Did he bend over and kiss Abel's marker while holding Eve in his arms? Did he moisten that first grave soil with his tears? Surely he must have, and in the doing, Adam had a glimmer of what was to come.

But there are two other photographs in history's album. One is past; the other is a photo of the future, both in living color. The first is of the most famous tomb in history, famous because it's empty. Jesus, the One demonstrated to be the Son of God by His resurrection (Rom. 1:4), conquered death and lives today. Eye-witnesses saw Him, touched with Him and ate with Him, so complete had been His conquering of man's ancient enemy.

The other photograph is of the future and it's not a picture of a widow in such deep grief that sunglasses must hide her tear-soaked eyes. It's a picture of God with a handkerchief, taking the sunglasses off her face and wiping away all her tears, a photo straight out of Revelation 7:17 and Revelation 21:4.

As we look at that future picture, we see that in it there are no markers in nice neat rows; death is abolished, and into exile have gone the tears and the grief that birthed them. In that day, God will render tear ducts obsolete.

Such is what God has prepared for those who believe that Jesus guarantees everlasting life to all who simply believe Him for it.

Dr. Mike Halsey,
Pastor, County Line Church

*Tuesday, May 30, 2006 Section A, page 1