…a time to weep and a time to laugh;
a time to mourn and a time to dance…
– Ecclesiastes 3:4 (CSB)
Time is linear. Ever-moving forward. Marching toward a specific end.
It’s also wibbly-wobbly, timey-wimey…stuff. (Thank you, Doctor Who).
In each of our timelines, there is good and bad. Weeping mixed with laughing. Mourning combined with dancing. It’s not easy to separate our experiences, and the emotions that arise from those experiences, into discreet parts. Perhaps that’s why someone coined the word “bittersweet” ages ago. That, I think, is an apt description for life.
And so, the truth is (and I remind myself here that truth is what I’m meant to be focusing on this year), we have to learn to accept whatever comes our way. There is very little that we can control. Really, most often the only control we have is in how we respond to events. Will we choose bitterness and fear? Or will we choose to exercise the gritty kind of faith that takes shape in the cauldron of adversity?
Don’t misunderstand me. I’m not telling you to be a doormat. I’m not telling you to say, “Yay! I have cancer!” I’m not telling you to paste a placid expression on your face when your heart is breaking.
What am I telling you?
To ask Jesus to give you eyes to see Him, even on the worst days. To seek God at all times, in all things. We can accept whatever comes our way when we learn to embrace the Lord who loves us first and foremost. When we are wrapped in His arms, we can breathe deeply, despite the torrents of tears, and resolve to put one foot in front of the other, knowing that He will never let us go.
It would be nice if life was simple. It will be, one day, when the feet of the Savior touch the earth again and all is renewed and restored. That, we look forward to. But for now, it’s complicated. It’s messy. The destructive tentacles of sin, that of the first people which fundamentally tainted and twisted our souls, reach out and with a sickening thud glomp onto everything. Every person. Every relationship. Even down to the bits and pieces that make up the atoms. The entire world blew up at the first bite of forbidden fruit.
We blew up.
And we keep blowing up.
Thank God that He’s not like us. Me, if I were Him I’d have called it quits a long time ago. Heck with all of it. Heck with this chaos. But He’s not me. He’s Other, Unique, Mystery, Holy, Just, and Good. He is Love. He keeps working, patiently. He knocks down walls, breaks through doors, shakes the mountains, stops the rivers. There is no depth to which we can descend that His arm does not reach further still.
The author of Hebrews calls this saving “to the uttermost” (7:25).
Maybe we won’t see that uttermost in this part of the timeline. Maybe that will wait until Eternity. Maybe we won’t understand all that He is doing right now.
What is definite and assured is that we will continue to have wave after wave of tribulation wash over us. Some, we cause ourselves. Some, we’d never ask for or anticipate in a million years. What is also definite and assured: All storms can be navigated by the grace and power of the Holy Spirit. His light continues to guide us to the safe shore.
Perhaps you cry today. Perhaps the news never seems to be good.
But then you see the first faint buds of spring. Just the barest wash of green upon the trees. The sun peeks out from behind the clouds. And you remember: Blessed assurance. Jesus is mine.
And you raise your hands to Heaven as the tears drop to the ground.