Sorrowful...and yet rejoicing

        I've thought a lot recently about Paul's words in 2 Cor.6:10--"sorrowful, yet always rejoicing."  Paul describes himself and his fellow believers as enduring untold suffering, imprisonments, beatings, hardships, hunger, sleeplessness, persecution and on and on.  But despite all this, they are "sorrowful, yet still rejoicing."  How can this be? 
        These past few weeks have begun to teach me anew.  Many of us have carried the almost unbearable weight of sorrow upon sorrow when our dear friends' precious daughter, Wynn, went home to heaven. For Wynn, it's eternal glory and good, but for those left behind, there are simply no easy answers.  No way to fix here on earth what is unalterably, sorrowfully changed.  Though we desperately desire to, we simply cannot make things right. 
        And so we simply grieve with our dearly beloved friends.  We try as best we can to carry some tiny little portion of their grief...and in our deep and weighty sadness, we feel some sense of gratitude that the Lord has allowed us to share a minuscule portion out of the chasm of their sorrow.  Oh Father, help us to continue to carry that load and might our love, our grief, give some small measure of solace to our dear friends. 
       Yes, we are sorrowful and we grieve deeply...
        And yet even in the midst of so many tears, so much sadness, we sense Your presence, Lord. Your gentle but powerful love.  It's as if we hear dimly, softly even, the distant unmistakable roar of the Lion of Judah. We know that You are here, even in this dark place.  Just as You wept at the tomb of Lazarus--even while knowing You would momentarily raise Him from the dead--so, too, You weep with us. You weep at the terrible suffering and separation caused by death. You weep at the horrific price all mankind has paid for Adam and Eve's sin.  You weep for this world's brokenness. 
          You weep with those who weep.
          Thank You, Jesus, that even though You know the end of the story, even though You conquered sin and death, even though You know that Wynn lives in eternal light and joyful glory with You right at this very moment, yet, still, You are a God who weeps with us who are still in the shadowlands.  You are a "man of sorrows and acquainted with grief" (Isa.53:3) so You fully understand and enter into our sorrow. 
         And yet, You are "anointed with the oil of gladness beyond your companions." (Heb.1:9)
         You are a God who cries and laughs.  Who is God and man. Who died and conquered death.  Who was dead and is raised to new life.  Who judges and justifies.  Who is holy and full of mercy and grace.  Who suffers and yet rejoices.
        And so on this day, we Your children, are sorrowful and yet rejoicing.  We rejoice that Wynn lived a beautiful life to the glory of God--loving You, loving others.  And oh Father, how we rejoice that Wynn lives.  That she lives in Your glorious, eternal, joyful presence and light and love. 
        We rejoice that You have given us one another.  We rejoice for the gift of dear friends and family.  We rejoice for the gift of prayer...thank You that You hear us and that You are moving and working in countless ways we cannot see and do not know.  We rejoice for the comfort and wisdom and solace and strengthening power of Your Word. We rejoice that we are never ever alone--for You have promised never to leave us nor forsake us.  We rejoice that we're to walk not based on our terribly limited sight or our ever vacillating feelings, but based on faith in You, our Savior, Redeemer, Comforter, and King.
        And today, Lord, we simply rejoice for life's simple blessings--the promise of fall.  The crunch of leaves underfoot.  The bright orange of pumpkins.  The smell of fires and hot cider and cinnamon spice.  The soaring hawk. The sound of a friend's voice. The mug of hot tea. The cooing of a baby. The joy of loving others, even when that means hurting and weeping with them. 
        Give us eyes to see Your fingerprints at work all around us, and help us to rejoice even as we grieve.  In the midst of tears, please give us grateful hearts that see the invisible and fix our eyes on the One who endured the cross for the joy set before Him (Heb.12:2) The cross and joy--there it is again. Sorrowful and yet rejoicing.
        I close with these words I read several months ago by John Piper.  They struck a chord with me then, and now, well, they speak with even more force.  Might they encourage you today as you seek to see the unseen and choose to rejoice even in the midst of sorrow.  Here are Piper's words--

        "In any given day, are there not reasons to weep and reasons to rejoice?  So much depends on where you fix your mind. Do you dwell on what might have been (for example, what if my mother had not been killed when I was twenty-eight, but instead had been here for her grandchildren as they grew up)? Or do you dwell on what new things God has done (and will do!) to show the sufficiency of His grace (like another good wife for my dad and all my children on a heavenly trajectory!)?
        On this side of the resurrection of Jesus, and on this side of the final fulfillment of the promise to work it all for good (Rom.8:28-32), there will still be grief.  Yes, but as Paul says in I Thess.4:13, not as those who have no hope. Our weeping will be weeping on the rock of hope.
         My prayer for myself and all of you is that our weeping might be deep but not prolonged. And while it lasts, let us weep with those who weep. And when joy comes in the morning, let us rejoice with those who rejoice (Ps.30:5; Rom12:15)."

          Thank You, Lord, for the gift of this day, for the gift of Wynn, for the gift of our dear friends and family, for the gift of this broken but beautiful world, for the gift of Jesus, and for the gift of grieving deeply and yet rejoicing.  Thank You for weeping with us...and thank You for giving us reasons--innumerable reasons--to rejoice with You.
          To God be the glory.