Rejoicing and mourning…at the same time?

Rejoice with those who rejoice; mourn with those who mourn. (Romans 12:15)

A simple instruction, one that even makes sense. We probably would know it was a good thing even it it weren't in the Bible. In context, Paul is describing what it's like to have you mind renewed. To think like God thinks.

And so we see that God does this. When you're happy, God is happy with you. He is having a party in heaven about your promotion...your son's wedding…that awesome date you had last night. When you're sad, God is right there with you. He feels the pain when you lose a loved one…when you get chewed out by your boss…when that girl breaks your heart.

At any given moment, millions of people are rejoicing and millions others are mourning. And God feels it all. At the same time.

How can that be? How can he be happy and sad at the same time?

This is just one of the things about God that we can't fathom. He is infinite and incomprehensible. The only way we can know anything about him is that he has chosen to reveal himself. But that doesn't mean we can understand it all.

As the heavens are higher than the earth, so are My ways higher than your ways and My thoughts than your thoughts. (Isaiah 55:9)

The secret things belong to the LORD our God, but the things revealed belong to us and to our children forever, that we may follow all the words of this law. (Deuteronomy 29:29) 

You know, if we can't even understand how God can be happy for you and sad for me at the same time, is it any wonder that we can't understand creation? Or how the infinite God can be clothed in human form? Or how the death and resurrection of Jesus can atone for our sins and bring us into a right relationship with him?

No, we can't understand it all. Not even close. But we can look at Jesus and see what God is like. He has chosen to reveal himself and I am grateful.


 Have you experienced the joy of God coming along side you in your joy? Have you experienced his presence in your grief? 

Do you feel like you have to understand everything you believe? How can that be, if your mind is finite?

The other side of Christmas

YHWH is close to the brokenhearted,

And saves those who are crushed in spirit.

- Psalm 34:18

It was seven years ago, and Christmas was not normal. Not by any means. My dear mother had just passed from this life 12 days earlier, and it was there second year in a row where pain seemed to cast a shadow over the joyous holiday. The previous Christmas had been one of trying to find joy in the midst of her very serious illness. And now she was gone.

It was not the first or only time that I had to dig deep beneath the tinsel and bright lights to find the joy of Christmas. There was 1996 after my sister had been taken and my niece was gravely ill. There was Christmas Eve 1995 when I was inexplicably sad - for no reason I could think of. There have been less severe bouts with loneliness, in short bursts between truly joyous times with family.

Does any of this sound familiar to you? If you're human, I'm guessing it does. Especially if you have your mind saturated with the expectation that the lights, the trees, the presents, the music, and the whole extravaganza will be happy, no matter what.

Well, I've got good news for you. These emotions you struggle with - they are exactly why God took on flesh and entered this world. He knew that, left on our own, we were empty, lonely, and prone to base our happiness on our circumstances. He knew that there would be times where we would be brokenhearted. Poor. Blind.

And that's why he came. He told us so when, some 30 years after that remarkable night in Bethlehem, he began his ministry by quoting from Isaiah 61, saying,

"The Spirit of the Lord is upon me; he has appointed me to preach Good News to the poor; he has sent me to heal the brokenhearted and to announce that captives shall be released and the blind shall see, that the downtrodden shall be freed from their oppressors, and that God is ready to give blessings to all who come to him." (Luke 4:18-19, Living Bible)

And then, after a long dramatic pause, he declared that this passage was about him and his mission.

So if you're down this Christmas, if you are brokenhearted, God has good news for you. If you are dealing with sickness, death, uncertainty, loneliness, divorce, work problems, or a dozen other reasons that it might be tough to put on a smiley face and say Merry Christmas, take heart. THIS is exactly why Jesus came. This is why he was born to humble parents in a dingy corner of the world and was only visited that night by the poorest of the poor - shepherds. (The Magi came much later.) Because he came to ease our pain. He came to bring life in the midst of death.

Christmas is no cherry on top on of an already happy life. It is the basis for any true joy that we might have in the midst of our pain. Jesus came because we are a hurting people.

That's life. Not a counterfeit brought by Santa and his elves. But real life, from the one who made us. He will bring light to our darkness. If we'll just let him.

I've seen some dark Christmases. Thank God for the light of the Messiah. And that is why we celebrate.

Merry Christmas.

No more night

No more night, no more pain

No more tears, never crying again.

Praises to the great I AM

We will live in the light of the risen Lamb.

- No More Night, words and music by Walt Harrah

Easter 1996 - our family, including Kim, Holly, and Mom

There is nothing that can shake your world to the core like the death of someone you love. Especially when you have no time to prepare for it. Seventeen years ago tonight, like this year on a Thursday, it happened. I don't remember ever experiencing uncontrollable sobbing before that. Or eyes that were burning because when trying to cry, there was nothing left in the tear ducts. Or being awake for almost 48 hours straight. It was terrible.

As I wrote two years ago, this anniversary has progressed from a day of pure mourning to a day of honer and celebration. And it has turned into a day to remember not only Kim, but my mother, my niece, and other people I love who have passed on. Today has been a great day of reflection, thankfulness, and sweet memories.

But in this world wracked by sin and death, the pain is still there. 

Which is why last night was so sweet.

Our choir was rehearsing for this Sunday, and it just so happened that the anthem for this Sunday is No More Night. Wait, no. "It just so happened...?" No, it was from God. I went expecting to prepare for leading worship, but instead I worshipped on the spot. Chill bumps, teary eyes, and a sense of God's presence. Because as I sang, I saw a glimpse of the future. I thought about how inconsolable I have been after death left its ugly fingerprints on our lives, and I was filled with awe at the thought of "no more tears, never crying again."

But even greater was the truth that we will be praising the great I AM, the Lord of everything, forever. And that the light will come from the light of the world, the risen Lamb of God...Jesus.

Listen for yourself:

I still believe I have plenty of work to do here, living out the resurrection in my daily life to make the reign of Jesus a reality in today's world. But it is good to know that there is a day coming when all the pain will be a thing of the past. Jesus will come to unite heaven and earth in a glorious culmination of the work that he began in Bethlehem.

And as we sing the anthem this Sunday, all that will be pulsating from every lyric and every note.

No more night.

Amen.

Their happy is too loud

Tonight I rented We Bought a Zoo, the latest movie from director Cameron Crowe.

I guess I knew the basic plot line from the trailers, trailers that did not motivate me to see it in the theater last December. I picked up on it being a movie about taking chances, starting over, even about life being an adventure. What I had missed was that it was movie about grief, and how it affects not only us but those we love.

Such movies have drawn me ever since my sister's passing 16 years ago. Movies such as Signs (which, yes, is about grief as well as loss and recovery of faith), To Gillian on Her 37th Birthday, and many others have themes that have helped me process loss. This one did as well. Especially in this one moment...

It has been six months since the death of the little girl Rosie's mother. All of a sudden, her dad hears her call for him. He comes to her room to comfort her, and discovers that once again their neighbors are having a party outside her window. And she says to her father with great sadness, "Their happy is too loud."
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One of the toughest things in the world is knowing how to help friends and loved ones get through the grieving process. We don't know the right thing to say. We don't know when they want us around and when they want to be alone. In fact, those answers are different for different people, making it that much tougher.

But I do know this from being on the other side: when I'm hurting, it's comforting to know that those who love me hurt for me. I know that sounds an awful lot like "misery loves company", but it's not. It's just the nature of love - when you really love someone, you come alongside them and feel what they're feeling. Life is about shared experiences, good and bad. In fact, Scripture comes right out and says it in Romans 12:15:

Rejoice with those who rejoice; mourn with those who mourn.

It couldn't be any clearer than that. Love is when you let your heart beat in time with others.

So yes, when your heart aches, it is very easy to look around you and think, "their happy is too loud." It's natural. It's human.

And it's something that I need to be sensitive too. I pray for wisdom from the Father, that I would know when to rejoice with my friends, and when to mourn with them. And do both at the right time.

So that my happy will be just the right volume.