A few years ago I set the goal for myself to read the Bible cover to cover, and to gain more knowledge of the Word. The journey for knowledge that I set myself on would quickly turn into heart knowledge and experiences of beholding my King. This knowledge of His character helped me trust Him when my world was shaken. I learned that worshipping this King of ours is indeed falling on our knees in reverence of a mighty, holy God…but from our knees then into His lap, because our King is also a tender Shepherd who cares for His trembling lambs.
Beholding Him, fixing my eyes solely on His wonderful face, was the only way I got through 2025. On February 12, 2025, I found myself walking into a hospital in Kona, Hawaii, approaching the ICU room. My father, who just had a massive stroke at only age 64, was on life support until all of his kids could get there to say goodbye. Unable to physically take each step into that room, my mind went to Psalm 23 — dad’s favorite psalm —which I had just extensively studied. “Come on goodness, come on mercy,” I exclaimed shakily as I gripped the Lord’s goodness with my left hand and His mercy with my right, and I knew He was there with me. Behold, my King.
A few days later I found myself meditating on the story of Jesus at Lazarus’ tomb that I had just studied the week prior. Death was never God’s plan, and it caused Him to weep like I weep. I thought of Him on the cross, separated from His Father, and because He did that I have the promise of seeing my Daddy again. Death is not the end, but the beginning. Behold, my King.
April 1, 2025, we discovered my mother’s leukemia had returned. Just four short months later, on the morning of August 9, I held her hand as I read her Psalm 73:23–26, the same Scripture I read to my dad before his last breath. Previously unresponsive for many hours, she squeezed my hand and then entered glory. She heard the Word and then saw the Author of it. The power of the cross and the resurrection once again before my eyes. Behold, my King.
In this season of immense grief, I open up the book of Job and I weep as I read Job’s response of processing grief with the Lord: “My ears had heard of You but now my eyes have seen You” (Job 42:5). For the last 38 years of my life, I had heard of the Lord and known Him, but now my eyes had truly beheld my King, and there’s nothing that comes close that could ever compare.
Written by Casey Klein. Casey serves at the Women’s Ministry Director at Auburn Grace Community Church in Auburn, California, where she has attended for 21 years.