He wept, too.

Grief comes in gently most days.

The mornings sing with newness. Blooms and air and birds all fresh with wonder. And the wonder is still there inside of me.

I read God’s words–alive and working in me. I’m always surprised by the treasures found in passages read many times before. There is this settling of the soul that happens–a grounding. There is a peace in aligning my thoughts with God’s.

But there are other days when grief is not as gentle. Days when I am agitated and restless. Days when I am sad. This merry-go-round of grieving–some days up and some days down and never the same as the person right next to you.

It keeps you dizzy enough to lose your balance.

I was reading in John 11 where Jesus wept after the death of Lazarus. Why was He weeping? He knew that He would soon raise him from the dead. He knew that Lazarus was safe for eternity. He knew all the days, all the details. He was not surprised.

Yet still He wept.

I’m certain He wept in compassion for Mary and Martha. And in sorrow for sin and its awful consequence. Maybe for the magnitude of death–its unnatural pain and unspeakable grief and the misery of this unintended process.

Perhaps He was weeping over the path He was on to conquer it.

He sorrowed even though He knew Lazarus was ultimately safe. Even though He knew the power of resurrection. Even though He knew God’s will was being done.

He wept.

And I weep some days. Over the enormity of this loss, over the empty place next to me and inside of me. Over the unnatural call of death and the weariness of dealing with it every day. Over the painful hurt that does not go away.

And even though I know she is safe, and I know the end of the story, and I know this is God’s will, I weep.

I weep because she is gone.

And my Savior knows. He understands each heartache and every longing. He is acquainted with this merry-go-round of grief.

Even here, He finds me.

For we do not have a high priest who is unable to sympathize with our weaknesses, but one who in every respect has been tempted as we are, yet without sin. Hebrews 4:15

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

3 thoughts on “He wept, too.

  1. “He wept in compassion. . . for sin and its awful consequence. Maybe for the magnitude of death–its unnatural pain and unspeakable grief and the misery of this unintended process. Perhaps He was weeping over the path He was on to conquer it. . .Even here, He finds me.” Ahhhh–ESPECIALLY here, He finds me! And, again, THANK YOU SO MUCH, Colleen.

    Liked by 1 person

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