Even in laughter the heart may be in pain, and the end of joy may be grief. Proverbs 14:13
That which weights down my heart like lead is usually difficult to acknowledge. Somewhere beneath my sanguine exterior, grief pokes at me constantly, begging for acknowledgment. If it’s too frightening to process, I will run from it. If the grief is terrifying, I’ll run from it indefinitely.
Those who regale others with the funniest stories of the evening can be the very ones who cry themselves to sleep in private agony. How many comedians have admitted that they struggle with depression? It seems to be a theme. The jokester is often the troubled soul.
I know the right answers for spiritual and emotional health. I’m sure you do, too. If you’re in pain, explore it with God. Grieve it. Heal from it. But ultimately, the failure to do so boils down to a spiritual issue. I ran from my own painful issues for thirty-five years. I didn’t have an intimate relationship with God, the kind that would bear the weight of such a journey. I could have answered questions on a test about God’s character. I would have told you that He is faithful, loves unconditionally, and even redeems what is broken, but I hadn’t connected to Him emotionally to experience these things firsthand. I needed to feed my faith with abundant time in the Word so that I would gain an absolute trust of the One who would receive my tears.
While I played pretend, God noticed. He was already acquainted with the events that shaped my grief. He knew the instant they occurred that I would develop deep scars over the years. But He also hoped that I would not choose to stuff the memories out of sight. He, the healer and redeemer, continually reached out to me to draw me to Himself. He had everything I needed to navigate the journey. Time, insight, perception, comfort, and healing. After a season of grieving, I finally experienced the day when my laughter was no longer shallow but instead, bore the evidence of a joy too abundant to conceal. While there were and are, no shortcuts, the pilgrimage through the valley of sorrow is a temporary one.
Let me be someone who restores the breech today, mending others’ broken trust in you. Help me pass on deep attachment to Your Words. In Jesus’ name, Amen
With a baby believer, God has to start at the beginning just as new parents spend the first year of their child’s life holding them, rocking them, and cooing to them. God always teaches us elementary precepts first. The first one is, “I love you and this is what My love is like.” There are no shortcuts here. It takes as long as it takes and that depends on the previous life experiences of the believer. If they have only known distorted love and abusive authority, this initial stage will take some time.
On a certain day, Jesus faced twelve of his disciples and prepared to send them out with a lengthy word of preparation. He said, “Do not suppose that I have come to bring peace to the earth. I have not come to bring peace, but a sword.” Matthew 10:34 He went on to describe how family members will strain against each other because of one person’s loyalty to Jesus and another’s enmity to Christ. Maybe you know this firsthand. After believing in Jesus and making Him Lord of your life, spiritual sparks quickly manifested within your family. The news of your conversion wasn’t welcome. Where you once fit in, everything was different as you understood that you answered to God first. The sword of Truth divided you among your own people.
Worshiping and standing in awe of God are the purposes of my life. Until the experience of being awestruck takes over my heart, I’m not yet living. I’m really the walking dead.
Each of us has giants of faith in our spiritual lineage. Imagine if we could begin our testimony this way ~“My story is full of darkness and light. My earthly father left when I was four years old. I never knew him. But in God’s providence, I became His child and He is my Father. I know Him well and can tell you countless stories of how He is graciously fathering me.” Now that’s a testimony that can, and should, be common among all of us. The thread of God’s fatherhood binds us together and we share the common experience of finding God to be glorious and personal. Who is in my spiritual family?
Gifts are from God. We all have them. Some of us found them later in life. We grew up in a relational vacuum with little feedback from adults. We never heard parents and family members describe the unique ways we were created. As adults however, we are not powerless to know ourselves. God is our Father now and will show us what we lack. We must do two things.
Oh, that I would love God so much that I can’t speak His name without my face changing! My eyes should get soft and somewhat transparent. His name should bring a change to my countenance. “He means everything to me,” should be my answer when I’m asked by strangers if I’m a religious person. They expect to hear about religious performance but what if they heard about a love relationship?
Many adults today have never had a birthday party thrown in their honor. They’ve never blown out candles or been sung to by people who love them. They don’t know what it’s like to feel celebrated. Hundreds of thousands of babies will be born as I’m writing this sentence. Will each child grow up to know that he or she is a unique creation of Almighty God? Probably not. If any of them languish for lack of that knowledge, their self-worth is skewed.
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