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Posts Tagged ‘#joycomesinthemorning’

Just a regular day, with not an exceptional occurrence, yet something was rising within me, and a smile grew across my face … as I watched him walking just ahead of me.

In just hours he would be doing something he has not for so many months, after being lain flat, too weak to participate in so much of life and living. Now, though, was the eve of a return to a regular living activity.

And I was bursting with pride, with joy for all that he has accomplished, for his making it to this point in healing. Thankful to God that he has made it and that he was beginning to thrive.

It made me think of him when I first met him, when he was full to overflowing with the vim and vigor of life, of youth. When his energy, his time and his desire to do, to go, to experience was endless. When he invited me in to look ahead, to dream.

And here he was, about to start something new …

So much loss, so much grief in that season. Over a year of struggles that encapsulated every part of life and living for him … and for those of us closest to him. Struggles to move, to think, to communicate, to focus, to worship … to stay awake.

The hows and whys faded as the pride rose within me. He persevered, he fought (every day) … he overcame.

And here we were, on the threshold of a new challenge … because he can do it.

So many days, months, years really, of fighting to keep your head afloat, and now you have something to look forward to. I am so proud of how far you have come, and that you persevered through this dark night … may there be joy in the morning.

Psalm 30

I will extol You, O Lord, for You have lifted me up,
And have not let my foes rejoice over me.
O Lord my God, I cried out to You,
And You healed me.
O Lord, You brought my soul up from the grave;
You have kept me alive, that I should not go down to the pit.

Sing praise to the Lord, you saints of His,
And give thanks at the remembrance of His holy name.
For His anger is but for a moment,
His favor is for life;
Weeping may endure for a night,
But joy comes in the morning.

Now in my prosperity I said,
“I shall never be moved.”
Lord, by Your favor You have made my mountain stand strong;
You hid Your face, and I was troubled.

I cried out to You, O Lord;
And to the Lord I made supplication:
“What profit is there in my blood,
When I go down to the pit?
Will the dust praise You?
Will it declare Your truth?
Hear, O Lord, and have mercy on me;
Lord, be my helper!”

You have turned for me my mourning into dancing;
You have put off my sackcloth and clothed me with gladness,
To the end that my glory may sing praise to You and not be silent.
O Lord my God, I will give thanks to You forever.

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Earlier this week, I wrote about our human need, as souls encased in skin and bones, of the practice of lament. To lament is to be real with our circumstances, and our God. It is to acknowledge our frailty.

“Weeping may remain for a night, but rejoicing comes in the morning.”
Psalm 30:5

As the Psalmist indicates clearly, mourning is not without end. That is the hope of night, that the darkness that accompanies our lamenting, does eventually give way to the dawn of morning.

Right now I can think of a number of people who are in the midst of a time of lamenting, of mourning, and they cannot even dream of rejoicing or of a bright morning.

  • the family, mourning the loss of their child, gone too soon
  • the husband, holding the hand of his preschooler in one hand, and that of his dying wife, in his other
  • the woman whose husband has abandoned both she and their daughter, as well as been challenged by health problems and inability to work

Yet, that morning is coming. We do not know when it will come, but come it will.

As the third chapter of Ecclesiastes (v.4) reminds us there is:

“a time to weep and a time to laugh
a time to mourn and a time to dance”

I remember a night. I remember that darkness was everywhere … every where. I remember that everything, from the smallest things, were falling, failing. I remember standing in my backyard, sun’s beams pouring through the branches of the trees in front and above me. I remember crying, praying, begging for relief, just one sunbeam of hope to fall upon me. Then, moments later, as I set myself back to my yard work, I caught my leg on a nail, ripping my pants, my flesh … blood falling from me, releasing my tears, yet again. There was no quick relief, there was no quick end to my lament.

My hope was that “joy would come in the morning” …

We need to remember that the passing of night to day is not the same as with God. The lamenting will end, but we do not know when that will be. The God who divided day from night, will bring an end to mourning.

“There never was night that had no morn.”
Dinah Mulock Craik

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