Not what you usually expect to read around Christmas. Or on New Year’s. But honestly, Christ didn’t leave His glorious heaven and come to this earth as a baby because this world was easy.
Sin brought pain. Death. And not just for those who are at that moment sinning.
The whole earth groans under the ache, all waiting for Christ’s return to free us once and for all from the horrid weight. The mass. That steals life and joy and peace.
So when Jesus came as that tiny baby, He knew what He was coming to. And when He grew to be a man, even though He knew He had a plan, had a way to rescue us, in fact WAS the Way, He still stood at the grave of Lazarus — and wept.
Today I went to a funeral. Of a four-year-old. And though we know without a doubt that that precious child is now in heaven with Jesus, my heart breaks for the parents as I know their hearts are broken. They have loved Christ. Served Him. Followed Him.
But today they buried their son.
There are no words.
And God knows! Because it is not just Jesus who weeps. But the Spirit.
“For we do not know how to pray as we should,
but the Spirit Himself intercedes for us with groanings too deep for words.” (Romans 8:26)
Perhaps there are others out there tonight who are desperate with pain. Wondering why. And how.
How it happened…How to keep going…
Come to Him. To Jesus. He is a big enough God to handle your questions. Your emotions. Big enough to hold you in the midst of it all.
We do not always understand what He allows, but we can trust His arms.
Years ago, in the midst of a devastating loss of my own, I wrote this poem. I pray that in sharing it today, it will bring peace and comfort to someone who desperately needs it. For “just as the sufferings of Christ are ours in abundance, so also our comfort is abundant through Christ.” (2 Cor. 1:5)
For many years, I walked with Him
and talked with Him
and wept with Him.
I sang to Him,
whispered secrets to Him,
and listened to His precious words.
I leaned on Him,
and He was my Strength and Shield,
my Friend and Savior,
And then the bomb hit;
and in shock,
I sobbed against His chest.
Quietly, He wrapped His arms around me
and, stroking my shaking head,
let me cry.
Soon the tears dried,
just long enough for the anger to rise.
“It isn’t fair!” I screamed.
“You could have stopped it!”
And with each syllable and each word,
I pounded on His chest,
demanding a response
with the rivers flowing down my cheeks once more.
“You had the power.
You could have stopped it.
Why, God; why?!”
Quietly, He stood
and, with tears in His eyes,
let me pound.
As my anger was spent,
and my fists grew tired,
I collapsed against Him,
knowing He was my only Hope.
Quietly, He picked me up,
whispered, “I Love You,”
and, cradling me in His arms,
let me rest.
Some day I shall again walk with Him,
and talk with Him,
and weep with Him.
Some day I shall again sing to Him,
and whisper secrets to Him,
but for now, I rest in His arms
as He carries me over these rough sands of life.
He does not rebuke me for my sorrow
Nor condemn me for my anger.
He just holds me
and understands me
and whispers His love for me.
One day He will again set me on my feet,
and we will fight the battles together;
but for now,
in His arms,
He lets me sleep.
–by His grace, ©Elizabeth Daghfal