In Communion With Others

Hello faithful family, friends, and followers and thank you for joining us here. Joy continues to be active in her knitting and crochet groups while also knitting, crocheting, and sewing many, many articles for babies in need through Bundles of Love. I/we are so thankful for this outlet that provides her an immense amount of joy and huge sense of accomplishment. Much has been taken from Joy, but the fact that she is able to truly excel in her “craft” means more to us than words can say. I know I sound like a broken record, but there are so many blessings that we would never have known were it not for what we have been through.

Speaking of “sounding like a broken record,” I often write about finding joy or peace or trust in the sufficiency of God’s provision, in the midst of suffering and despair. But since that is truly our experience, when I come across descriptions or validations of such experience, I choose to take the opportunity to share these thoughts in the hope that they can be an encouragement to you all as well.

In my Easter Sunday post a few weeks ago I shared briefly from Allender and Longman’s “Cry of the Soul” but since we are still in the season of Easter, I didn’t want to miss the opportunity to share at least one more of their Easter themed insights. After all, the liturgical season of Easter spans 50 days, from Easter Sunday to Pentecost, celebrating Jesus's resurrection in one “great Sunday.” The Sundays, known as Sundays of Easter, are ranked after Easter Sunday itself as the Second through Seventh Sundays, concluding with Pentecost Sunday and this week we are between the 3rd and 4th Sundays of Easter. But I digress…

In this excerpt Dan Allender and Tremper Longman shed light on Jesus’ experience of felt isolation when, first, his friends fall asleep in the garden when he had asked them to stay awake and pray, and then, as he cried out on the cross, “My God, my God…” Allender and Longman's perspective on this meaning making in dark times of isolation and despair struck a cord with me when they write:

The cry of dereliction (the state of having been abandoned) transforms all human tears into a prayer before God. Further, the cross transforms all human suffering from a meaningless waste to a condition for glory which He chose to pioneer as the firstfruits of what will one day be a harvest of our own glorification.

Therefore, I cannot sorrow over the loss of life, betrayal, and abandonment without anticipating the dawning day of utter redemption. I cannot weep without sensing that each tear is caught in the crevice of His wounds, mingled with His sorrow, and saved as a rare perfume to anoint His glory. Neither am I free to sorrow and despair in isolation. I must sorrow, even despair, in communion with others who live with some awareness of the same cry of dereliction and the same hope of resurrection.

Loss, sorrow, and despair compel us to seek out our friends, even when they slumber in denial. Our shared despair compels us to strain to hear the barely audible yet undeniable laughter of heaven. It is that sound that transforms despair into a gift of hope. It is a taste of the presence of God.

As we enter into the transformation of despair, at times our lives will be filled with great pleasure and joy. At other times, we will be overcome by a sadness that seems like death itself. If we are willing not to hide under despair, but to call forth to those who abandon us—even more, to call forth to the One who seems to have turned His face—we will discover the paradox of His presence in the midst of His absence. Or, more accurately said, we will find Him after we have given up making Him in our image.

Despair exposes our emptiness and the futility of our idol-making. If our hearts hunger for Him, then despair is our ally, our friend, our guide, opening our hearts to the bright hope of seeing His face. As we fathom the emptiness of despair, we gain a deeper understanding of Jesus’ willingness to empty Himself of His glory and to sorrow alone on our behalf.

Through our sadness, we learn something about the heart of our Lord. In this way, despair catapults us not into the dark abyss, but into the bright presence of God.