7 years of following Jesus, and every season has invited me into deeper wisdom and understanding of Jesus’ words in John 16. You will face trials of many kinds, he said to his disciples. But take heart, for I have overcome the world.

Somewhere along the narrow path, many of us have misunderstood the presence of God to mean the absence of pain. Maybe we hope that’s true because pain is, well, painful. I am quickly reminded: if that were true, Jesus wouldn’t have needed to come in the first place. There wouldn’t have needed to be any saving.

I thought Jesus would make it all better. I thought he’d heal me. I thought I’d be over this grief by now. I thought I wouldn’t experience such sadness after giving my life to him. Why is this still so hard?

This wavering, this doubt, this pain and this suffering also sound like, God I thought you were my protector. Why is this happening? God, if you’re good, then how can you let these bad things happen? God, I thought you cared about me. Why are you silent? Why aren’t you doing something about this?

There comes a time where we realize we are not immune to the troubles of this world. In the midst of my own questions and doubts, I have been trying to grasp the fullness of what it means that God is with us. As humans, and as believers, it seems it is our natural tendency to hide and stuff away our pain and suffering, thinking that feeling is an indication of weak faith.

The truth is, to have a faith at all is to be made strong. His grace is sufficient for us, and Christ’s power is made perfect in weakness.

As we experience sorrow amidst our faith-filled lives, we come to learn that Jesus’ ever present nearness is the true miracle. He doesn’t take all our pain away now, but he is close to us in it. So, what then, can sorrow and suffering teach us about Christ? How can we take heart when the brokenness of the world seems heavy at every other turn?

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If we know God can use all things for His glory, then surely there is something to learn in our darkest night too.

While suffering is not the primary avenue for intimacy with God, it is a way God can show us who He is as a Redeemer. In a broken world full of sin, no one is immune to the destruction and heartache of suffering. To the secular world, it remains purposeless – the presence of it leading to evidence that God is not in fact good, but evil. As disciples of Jesus, we can take heart knowing that God does not wish suffering upon his Beloved children, but because He has allowed free will, there will be rebellion and brokenness. In free will, humanity chose rebellion. In great mercy and grace, God made a way for us to be redeemed, including in our darkest night (Brenna Blain).

I have needed this reminder in recent weeks. Facing my own sorrows, I have wondered if God is present even now. I am quickly reminded that nothing can separate us from the love of God. Though I wish salvation meant all my tears would be wiped away in this life, I know there is a joy set before us in the life to come. We can still embrace joy in the days we have now.

For now, through trials of many kinds, we can learn what it means to take heart. To be refined, sharpened, and to depend more wholly on Him.

Take heart, Jesus said.

The million dollar question remains: how?

What is Despair? Can Christ Use It?

I believe despair is one of our heart’s responses to fallenness. It’s the gut reaction that twists and turns as our minds grieve the way things were before the fateful fruit met Eve’s lips all those years ago. This is not how it was supposed to be, we mutter.

The Oxford Dictionary defines despair as “the complete loss or absence of hope”. In Cambridge Dictionary’s definition, despair is further described as not being able to improve a situation. In the natural, our situation might be hopeless. It may lead us to fear a fate of despair. But, because of Jesus, despair doesn’t have the final say. The cross does.

And yet, you might think, sorrow still exists. And you’re right. Our hearts still drop. Our minds still wander. Finding hope is not always so simple.

When left unattended, despair can stop us in our tracks. Unregulated, unresolved emotions can become an idol – sitting on a stolen throne. This is the throne of our heart – the center of our entire being – where only Jesus is worthy to sit. Equally, when pushed so deep down, we fail to consider the way we can see the Lord’s redemptive power through hard things.

Despair can thwart the movement of blessing in and through us as we begin to wonder if God is good. As seeds of doubt are sown and watered. Despair in the hands of the enemy becomes unbelief and hopeless sorrow. Grief processed in the presence of the Lord becomes purposeful and meaningful pain accompanied by inexpressible joy, a gladness not based on circumstance. It sows seeds of dependence, faith, hope, and love. These moments of processing with Jesus bear the fruit of intimacy with him. They bring hope, meaning, and purpose to our tear-soaked cheeks.

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In the seen, there is not a way through. In the unseen, God is working.

In moments of desperation and hope lost, we get to look to Jesus and have faith in the supernatural movements of a God who enters in. God made a way for reconciliation and renewal through his son Jesus. This truth does not negate the pain of our heart, but it does help guide our steps through it. Faith is looking at a circumstance with spiritual eyes, trusting that in the end, God is faithful to His promise of restoring all things.

Faith in the midst of sorrow reminds us, we are hard pressed on every side, but not crushed; perplexed, but not in despair; persecuted, but not abandoned; struck down, but not destroyed.

Parker Palmer says, “the deeper our faith, the more doubt we must endure; the deeper our hope, the more prone we are to despair; the deeper our love, the more pain its loss will bring: these are a few of the paradoxes we must hold as human beings. If we refuse to hold them in the hopes of living without doubt, despair, and pain, we also find ourselves living without hope, faith, and love.’”

As we grow deeper in wisdom, the more the suffering of this world pains us. The more we know God and His heart, the more our own beats like His. The more we understand God’s hope for humanity, the more troubled we become by the presence of sin and suffering.

Here we can learn: the presence of doubt is not the absence of faith, nor despair the absence of hope. Palmer suggests we are even more prone to the impact of this heaviness as we see more and more the fullness of Christ and his heart for the weary and wandering.

But, this heaviness will not crush us. We are instead encouraged to accept the invitation to take Jesus’ yoke upon us and embrace his burdens light.

Palmer’s words beg the question: Do you wish to live a life marked by hope, faith and love?

Do not fear the presence of doubt, despair, and the pain of loss. These mark a life of faith. A heart that beats the way Christ’s does. A mind that is transformed and knows the will of the Father. A life all in on bringing hope and light to this dark, fallen world.

Knowing that grief, loss, and sorrow are a natural part of a faith-filled life is only part of the puzzle. In order to learn how to fight for faith, hope and love, we must look to Christ’s example to know how to fight for it as we endure trials of many kinds.

Hold Fast Hope

In James 1 it says, Blessed is the man who perseveres under trial, because when he has stood the test, he will receive the crown of life that God has promised to those who love him.

I believe there are many biblical ways to live out the call to perseverance. What I say here may seem counterintuitive to what a lot of us understand about “standing firm”. And yet, Christ’s way consistently disrupted the wisdom of his time. Jesus was not the one they were looking for as they awaited the promised Messiah. He came, not as a victorious gladiator of sorts (like they expected), but a meek and humble Nazarene man born in a manger. From the beginning, his way has been unexpected.

Our triumph in this life looks wildly different than what all the movies teach us about victory because as believers, ours is an eternal perspective. As we look to Jesus’ example, we realize we are not taught to be strong, but to let him be our strength. We are never asked to hold it all together, to withhold our tears, or to stuff it away somewhere for no one to see.

With trial comes sorrow. With hardship comes heartache. Because of Jesus, these momentary troubles (on eternity’s timeline) don’t have the final word.

So, how do we tend to the heart in these moments of grief and sorrow? How do we learn from Christ’s example as we endure the deepest valleys?

John 11 comes to mind.

Jesus Wept

33 When Jesus saw her weeping, and the Jews who had come along with her also weeping, he was deeply moved in spirit and troubled. 34 “Where have you laid him?” he asked.

“Come and see, Lord,” they replied.

35 Jesus wept.

When Jesus receives word of his good friend, Lazarus, dying, he does not drop everything and run to him. He assures his disciples that his friend will live. But, when they arrive at the house of Mary and Martha, three days later, they fall upon a grieving home. Everyone there was deeply troubled by the loss, especially Lazarus’ sisters. Even though Jesus knew how the story ended, he did not hesitate to sit beside them as they cried. Scripture says Jesus was not just moved, but deeply stirred in spirit, and troubled.

He did not hurry past the heaviness. He felt it. He allowed the grief of the ones he loved some room to breathe. He saw their tear soaked cheeks, and his heart swelled with compassion.

Jesus sat, and he wept.

Here, Jesus shows us how to grieve. How to pause in our pain and allow it to hold space. To not be in a hurry to leave it because we can learn something about him in it. Not to dwell in a way that becomes all-consuming, but to give our grief some room to breathe.

Jesus teaches us to pause and be still. To acknowledge the feelings that tear at our heartstrings, so they don’t become rulers of our soul.

Jesus was perfect and sinless and beautiful and has all authority and dominion in heaven and on earth, and he wept.

We can learn from him.

Tears are a natural response to the brokenness of this world, and it is not weak to be moved by sorrow. It is Christlike.

So, if you think tears are not the appropriate response to your or another person’s suffering, think again. If you think lamenting loss, and wrestling with doubt or despair puts your faith on trial, think again. If allowing yourself some space to grieve feels like the “weak” thing to do, remember this: Jesus wept.

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In Ecclesiastes, we are told there is a time for everything. A time to weep and a time to laugh, a time to mourn and a time to dance.

Be encouraged.

In our grief, His joy is just around the corner. His light is waiting to break through the darkness that hides us, so that we remember the hope to which we belong.

Take Heart

In the moments before Jesus raises Lazarus back to life, he speaks to Martha.

23 Jesus said to her, “Your brother will rise again.” 24 Martha answered, “I know he will rise again in the resurrection at the last day.” 25 Jesus said to her, “I am the resurrection and the life. The one who believes in me will live, even though they die; 26 and whoever lives by believing in me will never die. Do you believe this?

27 “Yes, Lord,” she replied, “I believe that you are the Messiah, the Son of God, who is to come into the world.”

Martha got to witness a miracle of her brother being raised to earthly life again, but she didn’t forget the ultimate prize: eternal life with Jesus. She fixed her eyes on the joy set before them, not realizing Jesus planned to bring him back right then. I believe Martha invites us into this living hope that Jesus promises to those who love him. She knew that hope was not lost – if their prayers were not answered in this life, then they would be in the life to come.

After Jesus wept, he raised Lazarus up to new life. Tears didn’t minimize the miracle Jesus planned to work back then, and they won’t in your situation either. Grief and sorrow have a worthy place. Through it, we can learn how to trust and depend on Christ. But after a time, we must fight for our hope. We must press on, being anchored confidently in the truth of His promise. We must hold fast to the hope that we will each rise again in the resurrection at the last day. We will be redeemed, healed, and delivered – if not in this life, then in the one to come.

One day, He will wipe every tear from our eyes. There will be no more death or mourning or crying or pain, for the old order of things has passed away (Revelation 21:4).

One day, all our prayers prayed in alignment with the will of God that were not answered on this side of heaven will be poured out onto this land (Revelation 5:8).

As we exist in the in between – healed, yet not fully – we can look ahead to the greater promise of eternal life with him. This is the lesson of John 16. This is the invitation in John 11. We can take heart and hold fast to the hope we have in Christ because today’s sorrows are tomorrow’s victory.

Our grief is not the end of the story. Resurrection is.

Responding

Grappling with the pain and disappointments of this world is a daily thing. Making sense of our grief and sorrow, while not allowing it to become our ruler, is driven by the wisdom of our Cosuffering King, Jesus. Without him, our despair may just swallow us up whole.

So, what does it look like to stay anchored in faith as we face the troubles of this world? Here’s a few things that help me practice dependence on Jesus, so I don’t fall into the pit of despair:

Be Honest, & Seek an Eternal Perspective. Allow yourself and God the honor of feeling what is honest and true, then release it. Lay it down. Trust that your story is safe with the Author of Life himself. (This is a daily thing).

If God sees the heart, and you offer him up anything less than what’s honest, don’t you think He’ll see through it anyway? Allow God the opportunity to show you who He is, in every season.

Try to see your situation through the lens of 2 Corinthians 4:16-18. Notice this scripture also starts with the words about taking heart.

Therefore, we do not lose heart. Though outwardly we are wasting away, yet inwardly we are being renewed day by day. For our light momentary troubles are achieving for us an eternal glory that far outweighs them all. So we fix our eyes not on what is seen but on what is unseen, since we know that what is seen is temporary, but what is unseen is eternal.

Be honest with God, but do not lost heart. Remember His promise. Remember your inheritance.

Grieve in Good Company. James Coffield writes, the real decision is how and with whom you will grieve.

Let it be with Jesus.

As our hearts ache. As our souls cry out with wordless groans. As our bodies carry the weight of a fallen world. Jesus is our source of hope eternal. We can be encouraged by this truth from Hebrews:

Since then we have a great high priest who has passed through the heavens, Jesus, the Son of God, let us hold fast our confession. For we do not have a high priest who is unable to sympathize with our weaknesses, but one who in every respect has been tempted as we are, yet without sin.

God knows the weight we carry. He invites us to lay it down, and instead take his easy yoke upon us. This is why Jesus wept. He feels the weight as we do – and yet, heavier still. He bore the sins of all humanity, for all of time. We can trust him with our pain and suffering and questions. He’s not afraid of it.

He knows exactly how we feel, in the highest highs and the lowest lows. And he wants to be God With Us. To be a friend in the fire.

Come to Him. The enemy loves to whisper lies. God speaks what’s true.

Let us then with confidence draw near to the throne of grace, that we may receive mercy and find grace to help in time of need.

Hebrews 4:16

Remember God. Remember His promise. Remember who you are to Him. Then, approach His throne of grace.

We have a high priest who can empathize with every weakness because he knows the depths of the human experience. He is deeply moved and troubled by our grief and sorrow, and desires to be close to us as we wrestle.

To encounter his goodness, we must be aware of his presence.

So, approach God’s throne of grace. Call upon Him in your wrestling. In your sorrow. In your grief. Confidently enter the presence of the Lord, knowing he gives mercy and grace to help in our time of need.

Allow him to meet you in your suffering, your questions, and your doubt. Allow Jesus to be God With You. Allow Christ to restore your hope.

I say the word “allow” because the nearness of Jesus is never a question of whether he wants to be close to us. Relationship relies on our turning to him, opening our hearts to him. Saying yes to him.

Come home to Jesus.

He’s been waiting for you.