A week ago I publicly shared for the first time about March 25, 2011. This was a day when I saw with my own eyes God work a miracle and alleviate a burden that felt much too big to carry. I was in college, and when I arrived home to be with my parents to celebrate, I was greeted by familiar faces of neighbors and friends who wanted to join in the celebration with us.
As I shared this experience, almost nine years later, I was brought to utter tears. Not because the burden had lifted, although that was certainly incredible, but because of the people who cared enough to show up. I felt an abundance of emotion all these years later because God brings people together to share in suffering and rejoicing alike.
“Rejoice with those who rejoice, weep with those who weep.”
As I reminisce on that joyous day, I am stunned at the contrast that I’m living in right now.
Today, our world is carrying a burden that feels much to heavy, but the only way to shoulder the load is to stay away, to not gather, to remain separated. We cannot physically join together to rejoice or suffer or praise or weep. And all I can think is that this cannot be what God intended.
But then I’m reminded of Genesis 3. We live in a fallen world, in inexplainable hurt and pain. A world burdened by sin and suffering. We live out of Eden, but yet in His kindness, God did not leave us to our own demise.
He is the crowd waiting for us. He is the lifter of every burden. He is the friend when we feel alone and helpless and afraid. He rejoices with us. He catches our tears in His hands. We are not alone, and no darkness can prevail, for He stands unchanged.
There will be a day when we again gather. We will no longer be together apart, but instead, together together. There will be a day when this literal burden of separation is lifted. We will rejoice in one another’s driveways and laugh and cry and hug and praise and give thanks. I pray we will be a more faithful people, who know that our joy is found only on Him who sustains through every season and circumstance.
