The Misery of Light: Looking for Hope in the darkness

(Written in March of 2018)
Why is light given to those in misery, and life to the bitter of soul, to those who long for death that does not come, who search for it more than for hidden treasure, who are filled with gladness and rejoice when they reach the grave?
For sighing has become my daily food; my groans pour out like water. What I feared has come upon me; what I dreaded has happened to me. I have no peace, no quietness; I have no rest, but only turmoil. (Job 3:20-22; 24-26)


Job's words resonate with me, deeply. Though I have not suffered as Job suffered - not even a fraction - I "feel" his anguish over the loss he has experienced.
I too, have experienced loss. 

I too, grow weary and confused over the suffering of those around me. 
And I too, question why, it often seems, their suffering is prolonged and "light is given to those in misery, and life to the biter of soul,". 

Today, a cold March rain fell. I watched as it slowly slid down the window, resembling tears - as if the very heavens were crying. There is comfort in the commiseration of misery and so I welcomed the rain. For now, I do not shed my tears alone. Heaven, it would seem, is heart-broken, too. 

There's nothing particularly calamitous about this day. There's been no tragedy of which to speak - no life altering event. And yet, sometimes the hard is in the living and in the living the life that is sometimes hard. 

Today, I wake to the fear that her suffering has returned. Her condition, with no explanation, had lay dormant for a year. Would it return now to torment her, again? And still every morning, or 3, she struggles against her own body for control, as her hypoglycemic episodes continue to confuse and confound us. How long will they remain? How long will she continue to suffer? To be on the outside of normal? To be the box that is marked "special"? Please, God, give her healing and rest. 

It is also, this week that I hear of a friend who lost his battle with cancer - some 8 months ago. I receive this news second-hand as the miles and busyness of life have long since disconnected us from one another. He is the second Father in his family to be lost. He departs too soon, unable to see his young children of but 9 and 4 grow. Or see his young bride turn silver-haired and age gracefully. For them, there will be no growing old together. Their loss, beyond my comprehension. 

This month, for unknown reasons, I have felt more acutely the hole in our family left by pregnancy loss, some 18 months ago. Our table for 5 feels incomplete in its wake.
I still struggle to feel content.
And, I still struggle to let-go of what could have been and embrace what is, instead. 

This is the year that the relapse occurred and a marriage ended. Hope, it feels, dissolved with their union. Pain and destruction left in the aftermath. 

The world we wake to, each morning, is one where hate and intolerance flow unhindered. Fear of  the "other" among us blocks-out compassion for them. Where love and mercy should be given freely we instead offer judgment and self-obsession. Our main concern? Preservation of self. 

Today, I yell - out of frustration and fear. 
I shed tears of lament - for the brokenness.
Inside I scream - for their loss.
And, if I'm honest - for my own. 

I begin, like Job, to question the rightness of things. Why pain seems so prevalent and suffering ever on the horizon. And for a brief moment it appears the dark is poised to overtake me...

But the darkness does not win.
The grave does not get the final word. 
The family of my friend has the audacity to grieve with hope. Believing that, in Christ, Death has ultimately "lost its sting". (1 Corinthians 15:54-55)
I can have hope for tomorrow though my circumstances do not change because my Lord overcame the grave and defeated despair
And, through the power of the Holy Spirit, many are following the example given by Jesus to  love selflessly and give sacrificially - to bring hope and the Light of Christ to the truly broken places in our world. 

Returning, once again, to Job I find his questions and lament are met by a merciful and loving God. And, in that mercy, He reminds Job to whom his questions are addressed. 
Have you journeyed to the springs of the sea or walked in the recesses of the deep? Have the gates of death been shown to you? Have you seen the gates of the deepest darkness? Have you comprehended the vast expanses of the earth? Tell me, if you know all of this. (Job 38:16-18)
And rather than being put off, offended, or turning away, this knowledge of the vastness of God, brings comfort to Job. And he is finally at peace:
I know that you can do all things; no purpose of yours can be thwarted. You asked, 'Who is this that obscures my plans without knowledge?' Surely I spoke of things I did not understand, things too wonderful for me to know. You said, 'Listen now, and I will speak; I will question you, and you shall answer me.' My ears had heard of you but now my eyes have seen you. (Job 42:2-5)

Like Job, every encounter with my God leaves me humbled and changed. Somedays, I bring my sorrow and simply rest in His presence. Other days I pray boldly and watch Him move - I suspect - out of His great mercy and compassion for His children. And though today, I struggle with perspective and lack of faith - I have hope that tomorrow will bring new mercies and renewed strength. Because, in God's words through the profit Isaiah: 
Do you not know? Have you not heard? The LORD is the everlasting God, the Creator of the ends of the earth. He will not grow tired or weary, and his understanding no one can fathom. He gives strength to the weary, and young men stumble and fall; but those who hope in the LORD will renew their strength. They will soar on wings like eagles; they will run and not grow weary, they will walk and not be faint. (Isaiah 40:28-31) 

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