I asked God to give me a word that was timely, and the days that followed brought me to an all too familiar place.
I’ve come to encourage the mourning.
There are seasons where the night is as long as an Alaskan winter. You are faced with realities beyond your control. You have questions for the Father, and the well-intentioned have told you to not question Him, to just have faith and trust Him. You feel guilty, confused, duplicitous for daring to approach the Father asking for answers.
My sister, the manifestation of your pain and grief doesn’t equate to an absence of faith and belief in God.
Let the living Word free you today. “Did I keep my heart pure for nothing? Did I keep myself innocent for no reason? I get nothing but trouble all day long; every morning brings me pain.” Psalm 73:13-14
“Has the Lord rejected me forever? Will He never again be kind to me? Is His unfailing love gone forever? Have His promises permanently failed? Has God forgotten to be gracious? Has He slammed the door on His compassion?” Psalm 77:7-9
Lamenting is a gracious gift the Father has given us. You can run to the only one with all the answers, and wrestle with the one who holds you in the palm of His hand. He lovingly lends His ear to listen, His hand to comfort, to console, to collect every tear.
See, the beautiful thing about the model of lamenting laid out in Scripture for us is there is room for honesty, and there is always a resolve, that God is God, He is good, and He is all we have and need. Look at how these passages turn:
“Yet I still belong to you; you hold my right hand.” “Whom have I in heaven but you?” Psalm 73:23,25
“But then I recall all you have done, O Lord” “O God, your ways are holy. Is there any god as mighty as you?” Psalm 77:11,13
May I exhort sisters tending to the mourning? It is uncomfortable to see someone hurting. It should be. It is a reminder of the reality of the fallen world we live in, the tension we grapple with as believers.
Pain was never meant to exist. Suffering was never meant to exist. Yet it does, and Christ has redeemed every bit of it. He has overcome it all and has worked it together for the good of those who love God and are called according to His purpose. When the wound is fresh and healing hasn’t even begun, your presence is what’s important. Your shoulder, your tears, your resources, and your ear to listen and bear witness to their unbearable grief.
It’s the Father’s way.
As I’ve written most of this in the middle of the night where I am reminded that in the depths of my seasons of suffering, in the darkest of nights, I was hidden in Him. The night did not overcome Him. Even the night is light to Him. He doesn’t rush us out. Instead, He rushes in, and He ministers to us, comforts us, covers us, carries us, and is our light.
May that be true of us. May we embrace the Father’s way.
Remember that Abba sees the mourning and calls them blessed. He floods them with His promised comfort and the assurance that joy comes with the rising of the sun.
