A holy grief.

Heart pounding, my feet hit the dirt along the side of the road. Each breath is intentional, rhythmic. In through the nose, out through the mouth. My chest rises and falls and my legs groan with labored movement, begging to be free... I run. My feet keep landing on the ground, but they long to take flight, to lift off, to suddenly find themselves soaring through the air. With every breath, I feel Lynn's presence. I feel one with him, as though I could close my eyes, go back in time, and find myself running beside him.

How do people think this world is all we are, when just beyond our grasp another world is so vibrantly present, alive behind the veil???

These days, my heart is crying out, How long oh Lord!!?? How long will this heaviness remain? How long will this loneliness suffocate? How long will I have to fight for life, with death and despair beckoning at the door??  Like Job, I sit and cry out, Vindicate me, O Lord! Show yourself faithful!! Like Naomi, I cry out embittered, Call me Mara, for the Lord has dealt harshly with me (Ruth 1:20). Like Joseph, I surrender, trusting that God's ways are higher than mine.  Like David, I wait. For I would have lost heart if I had not believed that I would see the goodness of the Lord in the land of the living (Psalm 27:13). 

Grief is profound. I don't grieve for Lynn as I used to. I grieve because of sin. I grieve because of death, and brokenness, and pain. I grieve because evil has played a role in my existence. I grieve because the woman I am and what this world has to offer falls short. I yearn for a better place. I ache for a new day. I long to sing the song of the redeemed, to hear the praise of many angels, the cheers of witnesses who've gone before. I thirst and hunger after righteousness. I weep and mourn for loss of all things. I cry out for redemption, restoration, and gain.

Sorrow is more profound than depression. Grief is more acute than mental illness. It is the deep cry of the soul for a heavenly kingdom that reigns just beyond our reach. The Holy Spirit within us cries out, Abba Father!!! and reaches forth to take hold of that for which Christ Jesus took hold of us. A spirit that is alive in Christ, but bound to this world of earthly death is supposed to cry out, Forgive us, O Lord!! We have sinned!! We fall short of the glory of God!! May your kingdom come and your will be done here on earth as it is in heaven!!

Why is it that in the church, we do everything we can to silence these cries. We mask our pain and deny the soul permission to mourn what is meant to be mourned. We lead others away from the very positions of brokenness, poverty of spirit, and grief... that would align us to receive the holy salve, the divine blessedness of God, designed to touch the humble.

We have lost the light and understanding found only in a holy sorrow, a light that is beckoned by darkness. Not a sorrow of the world that leads to death, but a sorrow that is according to the will of God, that produces a repentance without regret, leading to salvation. (2 Cor 7:8-10)

There is a season to mourn. It is a season, not a long-term commitment. But, in it's pain, there is a beauty. There is a birthplace of true light and understanding found only in the hollows of emptiness and loss.

Blessed are those who mourn, for they shall be comforted.  (Matt 5:4)

*Thank you to my small group for continually providing such nourishing discussions, enriching my understanding as we delve into the depths of God's Word in the beatitudes.