I met a woman
yesterday who rocked my world. Honestly, she did. I never met this woman
before, and our lives may never intersect again. But her story leaves me
changed forever.
How often
does God redirect our lives – and our attitudes – with such unexpected
appointments?
We were standing in
line for about three hours together, waiting to pay respects to the family of a dear friend, who shockingly and suddenly passed away. At first, we
were strangers. But, as the queue wove its way down a church hallway and around
the lobby, we became friends and confidantes.
This lovely lady
opened her heart, revealing how her beautiful daughter’s promising young life
ended, nearly eight years ago to the day. The teen apparently interrupted a
burglar, who murdered her in her own home.
And her
mother found her.
I cannot imagine
anything worse.
Even now, the
mother grieves, as if this occurred yesterday. I shuddered and struggled to
find words of comfort. What promises could a believer impart at such a time?
Weeping may
endure for a night,
But joy comes in the morning.
But joy comes in the morning.
(Psalm 35:5b,
NKJV)
Boy, that
sounds like a pat answer, doesn’t it?
Yes, it’s Bible
truth, and it’s easy to pass those words along in times when our own lives seem
manageable. But what happens when we are the ones faced with heart-ripping
tragedy, trauma, and tumult?
Ask any parent who’s
ever buried his or her own child. And what if that son or daughter has been suddenly
stolen from life by another’s act of violence? Or what if that child perished
in an accident or from a terrible disease?
Does joy
really come in the morning? Does joy ever come again at all?
Sure, we can
examine the differences between joy and happiness. We could contrast contentment
with bliss. We might even look at the chasm between forgiving and forgetting.
Can that
help – when it really hurts?
Maybe we cannot
truly understand God-given joy until we have found it in our darkest seasons of
soul-striking grief. When we cannot even lift our eyes to let the tears fall,
and we find God is still there, perhaps that is the point.
He weeps
when His loved ones weep.
He embraces the
widow, who longs to reach for her beloved. He holds the mother, who can no
longer hold her child.
And He guards our
hearts, so we are not perpetually consumed by grief, anger, hatred, bitterness,
and a never-ending passion to exact revenge on those who have been overcome by
evil to the point of causing our sorrow and loss.
Only God.
The sweet grieving
mom I met still weeps for her daughter. Of course she does. The loss will
always be there. But, many years later, she is living and loving and
stepping out each day to care for her family and friends and to reach out to
others.
She mourns, but she
refuses to let hatred for her daughter’s killer poison her own heart.
And, at least for
now, there go all my own seemingly tiny disappointments, disagreements,
discouragements, distresses, and discomforts. My compass has been reset.
God, guard
my heart.
Do not be overcome by evil, but
overcome evil with good.
(Romans 12:21, NIV)
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