At some point we are all hit with the sobering and oftentimes crippling reality. Yes, Adam bit from the forbidden fruit.
And now we have pain.
And now we have death.
And now we have suffering.
None of us are immune to tragedies. None of us are guaranteed that one of our loved ones won’t be ripped away from us–perhaps slowly–perhaps in an instant.
But Jesus is good!
Even when the world falls apart and we don’t know how we will get out of bed in the morning, much less face the next 24 hours, we know deep down that Jesus is good.
But the reality? Many of us can’t feel that. We are in a place where we can’t hear the sweet sweet song of His sacrifice, the ballad of His perfect and limitless love. We don’t hear the melody, and we can’t sway to the rhythm. Our dance has gone. And we can’t imagine ever getting it back.
As much as our pride doesn’t want to admit it, many of us no longer feel His goodness. When it was someone else’s child, someone else’s friend, someone else’s husband, Jesus was still good through the heart break. But now?
How?
We would be lying to each other if we pretended that even as Christians there are times we can’t always feel His love. Our hearts don’t understand the loss.
And when someone tells us time will heal all wounds, we know it’s not true. We can’t hear Jesus right now, and we don’t want to hear false hopeful messages. What do we need to hear? What can heal us?
We need to hear from someone who’s been there–and came out healed–in one piece. Someone who is honest and tells us, I’m not going to lie to you–it’s going to be a long, hard road. And we need that person to remind us of Jesus’ words.
“I have told you these things, so that in me you may have peace. In this world you will have trouble. But take heart! I have overcome the world.” John 16:33
And we need to let Jesus in. Jesus is who can heal us–even in this hurting world.
As I picked up my copy of Susan’s B. Mead’s latest book, I fully intended to read a chapter a day. I had a notebook, and a pen. I was ready to take notes to ponder and draw parallels to situations I had counseled so many depressed and grieving patients and their families through.
What happened instead was that I read it from front cover to back–right there. Even though I didn’t have the time. Every chapter opened with scripture that had me worshiping the King. And every chapter had me in tears–yes, Susan, if you’re reading this–I was in tears.
I cried with each chapter for your story, for your losses, and for the joy I have over the joy you found in your King. I cried for your story–uniquely your own–but mine too. And I believe anyone who’s ever lost someone shares this story with Susan.
For anyone who’s grieved or is grieving, and desires to move toward healing–for anyone who desires to move from grieving to grace–or knows someone else who is in this painful place–or soon to be–Susan’s story is a difficult one where she shares how she got not only to that place of grace, but the place of dancing–Dancing With Jesus.
Click here to finish reading Deborah’s post