It hurt on Sunday God. Partaking in Your meal – the one You Yourself call and invite us to. The one where You give Yourself as our Sustenance. This always a joyous occasion. I’m reminded of the grace and mercy so lavishly placed upon me. I rejoice to be called Your daughter and enjoy the sweet foretaste of the full redemption of creation.
This was an assault of the bitterness of Sin.
I watched a mother cry over her child, her baby. A baby that in a few hours at not even a month old would be undergoing surgery. A baby that couldn’t be held for days by her parents. A baby that was fighting. A mother that was clinging to your promises.
As her and her husband struggled to gain composure, I felt the weight that Your people here in Kailua were carrying. The weight of anticipating another similar situation with yet another baby at any moment. The weight of husbands leaving their families for yet another deployment. The weight of a young mom, now widowed struggling to rejoice in the defeat of death even as she grieves the fresh wound her husband’s absence has left. The weight of yet another day. The weight of yet another burden of sin.
As we celebrated Your victory, tears filled my eyes. I didn’t feel victorious God, I felt defeated.
But You’ve promised us, assured us, of the sufficiency of Your grace.
You prepare our hearts and souls even now to carry the weight of the glory.
But on Sunday God, You reminded me that I’m not rejoicing in a fully-realized victory, I’m rejoicing in the seeds of Your promise because You’re not finished yet.
My heart is breaking after Yours. You sustain us and carry our grief with You because it is Your grief too. It is that grief that we remember this week. The grief that said, no more! The grief that clung to a cross and took on death that we may know life.
And now we wait.
Come, Lord Jesus. We know You will. You left Your Spirit as a deposit. We are waiting for the fulfillment. Come and fill us as we wait. Fill every crevice of our hearts with faith and love.
Even as I write this, I shudder, because Your love is greater than what I want.
I want simple. Your love brings complications.
I want easy. Your love demands something. Because Your heart hurts too.
You grieve over us and so we grieve over this world. Break our hearts for what breaks Yours and fill us with Your redemptive love. Let us not grow weary playing our role and recreating all things.