"The sorrow has not left the building..."

Several nights ago, I sat across from my friend at our kitchen table and listened as she updated me about how she was doing. She's been walking through an unimaginably heart-wrenching crisis, and it was good to sit together and hear her heart. At one point she said something that really resonated with me. She said, "don't get me wrong...the sorrow has not left the building, but I keep asking God to give me hope, and He keeps showing me that it's everywhere - all around me!"

That comment was still on my mind a few days later when some of the ladies from our church gave her a "blessings tea." A "blessings tea" is a special afternoon that is set aside to pray for, encourage and bless a friend going through a difficult time. Each attendee is asked to bring a special verse/and or encouraging card/note to share.

I thought about what I should bring to encourage my friend. I kept thinking of 2 Corinthians 6:10, which paints a mysterious picture of Christian suffering as being "sorrowful yet always rejoicing." I pondered my friend's earlier comment and this verse in light of the deep suffering I have seen in her family and in the other families affected by this crisis. A question has been hanging in the air by some of those who have been most greatly affected: is there a point at which suffering is so great that a Christian is just simply going to be in despair?

With these thoughts on my mind, I packed up little Davey Dave in the minivan and headed out to my special "tea party." I was so grateful that Ellis was willing to stay up and watch the kids for me that afternoon after he had worked all night. He will never know this side of heaven how his selfless act that afternoon blessed me!

What I experienced at that tea party was really something special. Six of us sat around a beautifully decorated table, eating delicious food and sipping tea from ornate tea cups. This setting was contrasted with the grief our friend carried to the table. The mystery of God's supernatural comfort in the midst of such heartache is difficult to describe, but we saw His love and hope shining brightly to us despite our great sorrow. 

Our time was filled with scripture, praying and singing. We cried tears, but they were not tears of despair. God's presence was with us and our hearts were breaking with praises to Him for His goodness and for His faithfulness. We laughed heartily, we grieved together heavily, we reverenced God genuinely. I truly felt like we were on holy ground. How could this be, in light of the formidable circumstances that had brought us together that afternoon? 

I was seeing before me a tangible representation of Paul's exhortation to the Corinthians. In Christ Jesus we have the opportunity to experience our calling as those who are "sorrowful, yet always rejoicing."

"Sorrow was beautiful...

When Sorrow sang, her notes were like the low sweet call of a nightingale,

and in her eyes was the unexpectant gaze of one who ceased to look for coming gladness.

She could weep in tender sympathy with those who weep,

but to rejoice with those who rejoice was unknown to her.

Joy was beautiful too...

When Joy sang, his voice soared upward as a lark's

and his step was the step of a conqueror who had never known defeat.

He could rejoice with all who rejoice,

but to weep with those who weep was unknown to him.

'But we can never be united,' said Sorrow wistfully.

'No, never,' and Joy's eyes shadowed as he spoke.

(While speaking) they became conscious of a form standing beside them;

dimly seen, but of a Kingly Presence,

and a great holy awe stole over over them as they sank to their knees before Him.

'I see Him as the King of Joy,' whispered Sorrow,

'for on His head are many crowns,

and the nailprints in His hands and feet are the scars of great victory.

Before Him all my sorrow is melting away into deathless love and gladness,

and I give myself to Him forever.'

'Nay Sorrow,' said Joy softly, 'but I see Him as the King of Sorrow,

and the crown on His head is a crown of thorns,

and the nail prints in His and feet are the scars of a great agony.

I, too, give myself to Him forever,

for sorrow with Him must be sweeter than any joy that I have known.'

'Then we are ONE in Him,' they cried in gladness,

'for none but He could unite Joy and Sorrow.'

Hand in hand they passed out into the world to follow Him through storm and sunshine,

in bleakness of winter cold and the warmth of summer gladness,

'as sorrowful yet always rejoicing.'"

-unknown