Grief

 Grief is a strange beast. Sometimes it lies sleeping in the sun like a large cat, content to leave you alone, and sometimes it springs itself on you from out of nowhere, leaving you no time to recover before the tears or anger take over and you're lost, swallowed whole by the tabby that turned out to be a lion. You can go about your life on Sunday, Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday with a spring in your step and then wake up on Friday overcome by sadness. Nothing has objectively changed, the grief that lives inside of you has simply decided to wake up, stretch, and come out. 

I say all that in order to let you know that if you have these feelings, you are not alone. 

Just before Christmas I encountered a sleepless night. Finally, at 3:30am I got up, made a cup of tea, and sat on the rug in my living room to talk to God. I told Him all of it. I told Him that I don't understand how the last six months (or the last two years) could be for our good and His glory. I told Him how sad I am. And He listened. At 4:30 I thought I should try sleep again and I prayed, "God, thank you for meeting with me in the middle of the night. I don't want to be alone." I felt His presence as I climbed back into bed and went to sleep. 

I do not have answers for the deep sorrows that we experience and must carry for the rest of our lives. Sometimes the wounds become scars that have changed us but no longer hurt us like they once did. Sometimes they heal a bit but remain raw and cause pain. I also do not understand how the dark providences of God work for my sanctification or why they are necessary. 

However, this I know; God has given us promises and He will keep them. He has said, "I will never leave you or forsake you" and "in this world you will have trouble, but take heart, I have overcome the world." 

I do not understand, but I do believe that God is wise and powerful and knows better than I do. There have been times when I have not felt the presence of God during a season of sorrow, but eventually He has returned to me. In this season of tears He has been very close. 

The day has not yet arrived when He will wipe the tears from our eyes, but He has promised to hold our right hands and to supply us with His Comforter. Take heart, weary saint, you are not alone. Your Redeemer is near. Though now we see through a glass dimly, when He returns we shall see face to face. I do not know why we must walk through the fire and water, but I am confident that He will lead us to a place of abundance.