"You will be sorrowful, but your sorrow will be turned to joy." John 16:20
Sorrow is a strange beast. There are days when it is larger than life and seeks to completely consume me. Then there are other days when it is content to remain as a small dark shadow in the corner. The changing of the seasons, the social isolation, Easter, and the anticipation of the shortly coming days where "one year ago today..." will be heard, all mixed with no end in sight for these trials of mine has turned my sorrow into a roaring beast. Last night I felt content to sit with Good Friday. All of its hurt, pain, and death seemed to feel appropriate. Jesus gave the sign of Jonah to the Pharisees, and the sinking and crying out and seaweed wrapped around him and the darkness of his strange tomb was the place where the eyes of my heart wanted to settle. I can feel Mary's pain as she wept at the tomb where Christ was laid. She thought Christ had left her. The pain of losing the one who Loved her was palpable. But graciously, Christ placed his hand on my shoulder, just like he did for my weeping sister, and reminded me of his presence. He doesn't want me to sit with good Friday forever. After all, He didn't. On that resurrection morning He made the greatest exchange so that one day, my sorrow will forever be traded for joy. "You will have sorrow," he said and today it feels like an understatement. But he knows. He knows that sin always causes hurt. He knows that before life can burst forth, the most unimaginable pain must first be experienced. He knows that before a baby's beautiful cry is heard, a mother's painful cry will pierce the ears of those around her. Christ suffered to pay for our sin so that joy could come. He didn't avoid the suffering. He didn't try to diminish the experience of the suffering. He accepted it fully and then paid the ultimate price so that he could exchange our suffering for joy. I wish that the beast of sorrow would shrivel up and die altogether. I know that I will never experience a complete exchange of sorrow for joy here on earth, but I hear people saying that time will help, and I feel frustrated that time doesn't pass more quickly. But the Holy Spirit soothes my heart by reminding me again that the bright hope of heaven and all its future glory will give me the needed strength for today as I face these trials. And graciously, He reminds me that Love hasn't left me. Instead, Love has bottled my tears and recorded my hard ugly cry in his book. He has diminished my beastly sorrow to a more manageable size and comforted me with truth. Easter truth. Resurrection truth. Truth that dries my good Friday tears and replaces them with a joy-filled glimmer of hope.
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Behold, I am doing a new thing;
now it springs forth, do you not perceive it? I will make a way in the wilderness and rivers in the desert. Isaiah 43:19 Archives
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