Oil of Joy for Mourning

The Spirit of the Lord God is upon me; because the Lord hath anointed me to preach good tidings unto the meek; he hath sent me to bind up the brokenhearted, to proclaim liberty to the captives, and the opening of the prison to them that are bound; To proclaim the acceptable year of the Lord, and the day of vengeance of our God; to comfort all that mourn; To appoint unto them that mourn in Zion, to give unto them beauty for ashes, the oil of joy for mourning, the garment of praise for the spirit of heaviness; that they might be called trees of righteousness, the planting of the Lord, that he might be glorified.
Isaiah 61:1-3

Trevor took these words of Isaiah and put them into a song years ago with the help of his girlfriend. I can still hear the melody and see his face when he sang Isaiah 61. We sang it for him at his funeral in October 1996. The song was repeating in my mind one night in February the following year when I was lost in the mountains with a friend from school. This guy Chris invited me to go hiking somewhere in southern Utah. It was supposed to be an afternoon hike to an arch, straight in and straight back out. Somehow on the way out we skipped onto another path and went into a neighboring canyon. We walked errantly as the sun started to set, wondering "Shouldn't we be there by now?" The once familiar scenery turned eerily unrecognizable and we doubled back thinking we'd see the way to the parked car soon. The sun disappeared and the cold set in. What had been a mild day in February, a light jacket sufficient while there was sun, turned into a freezing night. The snow lit our way under moonlight. We walked in the direction that felt right but then the path opened up into a wide dirt road we hadn't ever seen before so we decided to abandon the idea of finding the right way out and we took the dirt road thinking it had to hit a main road sometime and we could hike back to our car. The night chill started to set in. I was freezing.

It felt really lonely out there. I was glad I had someone to talk to and my mind went back to Trevor. How could he have wanted to be alone out there on Boulder Mountain? I felt sad thinking of him under the stars and the pines by himself. He had only been dead 5 months and I was mourning. I told Chris about him and I sang the song. The words were comforting to me. I wondered if my dad was going to lose it when I didn't come home and if he was going to come look for me too.

We walked until 10 p.m. I was getting too cold. When I had to pee I couldn't get my pants undone or done up again and I had to ask Chris to help me. I was too cold and miserable to be embarrassed about anything. I wanted a fire. We started looking for dry wood. We got a fire going and huddled close to it; so close that it burned holes in my pant cuffs but the small fire couldn't penetrate the cold in my bones. Chris was puzzled by how we got lost and felt responsible. We ate the last of a few saltines between us and watched the fire. Sleep escaped me. It was a miserable night.

In the morning Chris stood up and stretched, commenting on how beautiful everything was. He was intent on making the best of a bad situation. I looked up at him and gave him the biggest stink eye I could come up with. He snapped a picture. We started out and after a while we could see the road. We looked to the left and saw across the desert a landmark we recognized indicating the parking lot. It was only about a mile away and we joyously hustled to the car. We drove back home, hitting a snow storm, with the heater full blast. My family hadn't realized I hadn't come home. I crashed in my warm bed.

This story has been in my mind for a while. I'm not sure why. Maybe it's because it is September and this time of year has Trevor in the air. Maybe because it's a story about an errant path and finding a way back. Maybe it's in my mind because of the song and my heart lifts up in praise to Jesus Christ, the oil of joy for mourning. Back when Trevor died, Jesus' triumph over temporal death became pinnacle in my testimony. I rejoiced knowing there was life after death and the decayed body of my brother would be rejoined perfectly with his spirit. Death has no sting. These days I have been feeling an overwhelming gratitude for Jesus' triumph over spiritual death. He does bind up the brokenhearted. He does liberate the captive. He does give oil of joy for mourning.