The Day After

So what happens the day after Mother’s Day when another hurdle has been jumped but your brave heart has melted and the hurt is still there and your arms are still empty? And not only are your arms empty but maybe that finger on your left hand is too. And it has been for too long. And you can’t get away from mothers and fathers and doctors killing babies when you just want yours. And husbands and wives fighting and belittling and divorcing when you just want someone to love you and love back.

Cry. Yes, go ahead and keep crying. Let the tears roll into His sovereign bottle. And as you cry, remember Jesus cried too. Stella asked me why Jesus wept at Lazarus’ tomb when He knew He was going to raise him back to life. And with a quivering heart I told her that tears streamed down Jesus’ face because He saw the effects of sin and the misery of the world He had created to be happy and holy. He saw the sorrow and loneliness of His infinitely loved friends burdened with the knowledge of good and evil when all He wanted them to know was good. And with the authority of God Himself who knew what it had been, and with the experience of humanity who saw what it is, every wet salty drop down His face was screaming, “This isn’t the way it’s supposed to be!”

Now let His tear-filled eyes meet yours. Now hear His life tell you it won’t always be this way because He died to make it better. And let Him wipe away your tears with promises of a world to come where all you’ll know is good again. None of this evil, hurt, and injustice. Then pack up those promises and load your arms and fingers full of hope. And carry those mercies around with you in this miserable world. And hold them close. And never forget them. Let His love surround you – underneath you, all around you. He loves you back because He loved you first. And most. And enough.

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