Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, who according to His great mercy has caused us to be born again to a living hope through the resurrection of Jesus Christ from the dead, to obtain an inheritance which is imperishable and undefiled and will not fade away, reserved in heaven for you, who are protected by the power of God through faith for a salvation ready to be revealed in the last time. In this you greatly rejoice, even though now for a little while, if necessary, you have been distressed by various trials, so that the proof of your faith, being more precious than gold which is perishable, even though tested by fire, may be found to result in praise and glory and honor at the revelation of Jesus Christ… (1 Peter 1:3-6)
I think one of the most frustrating things about the Christian life to me is holding things in tension. Peter reminds us that we find so much hope in Christ and in Him there is infinite joy to be found, “even though now for a little while, if necessary, you have been distressed by various trials…”
Bummer.
It seems that in any given season, whether mostly good or mostly bad, there’s a little bit of each mixed in there. Now, not to reveal how very basic I am, but as a true Enneagram Seven, I don’t like trials anywhere near my joy. I want to be satisfied and content, and for my joy to be bubbling over with sparkles and fun and the very best of times (and all the sevens said “amen”). Okay, I don’t really want life to be only unicorns and butterflies, I’m not that naive. But it is sometimes hard for me to wrap my my mind around the concept that I can hold joy in one hand, sorrow in the other, and press on knowing I can trust Jesus with both.
I often feel like a 2 year old in a twenty-three year old’s body. Things don’t go my way and I want to just throw myself on the ground in a tantrum. Whatever present circumstance I’m facing takes over and the hard, frustrating, or sad things in life seem to consume me. Whether it’s truly a big deal or not, I feel like my toddler size hands aren’t big enough for both the joy and sorrow, so one wins and the other gets dropped. Now again, as a true seven, I tend to let the sorrow get dropped, in an effort to avoid emotional pain, and cling to whatever joy I can hang on to.
Now, I know that at this point, those of you in mental health fields are thinking about how unhealthy it is to stuff things down and not deal with them. Don’t worry. I’m still growing, but I can share from first hand experience that stuffing things never makes them go away. But, that’s a topic for another post. My point is that my tendency, and maybe your tendency too, is to want to only focus on joy, or if I do focus on sorrow, I completely forget about joy. I struggle to hold both in tension and to see that it does not have to be either or.
I mentioned in my last post that this last year seemed to be a year of loss. Out of all the loss I’ve felt over the last year, though, this April it hit me in the hardest way I could imagine. We said goodbye to my grandmother as her five year long battle with a flesh eating disease came to an end. While there is so much hope in knowing that she has been fully healed and restored, and is now standing in the presence of our Savior, it was by far the hardest thing I have had to face. They say that grief takes time and that healing is slow, but I find myself in one of two modes lately. Sometimes, I have brief moments where the sadness feels like it consumes me as I mourn the lack of her presence, miss her encouraging texts, or notice the silence where her laughter used to fill a room. Most times, I’m ready to just press forward and stuff it all down as I try to put back the pieces of my heart. I find myself just trying to grasp at whatever tangible bits I can hang on to and cling to the things that resemble something whole.
This season has been one of so many mixed emotions, though, as I get ready to graduate college in a week (that’s right, one week!). It’s been a season of loss, yes, but also of joy and excitement. There has been new and fun and adventure and so much sweetness. I could write paragraphs about how deep the hurt of loss has felt, but I could write you chapters about the Lord’s goodness and faithfulness in this season. I could also tell you about all the amazing ways He is moving in my friends and families lives as my people look forward to weddings, graduations, moves, and so many more wonderful things, but I promise we would be here at least all week.
So I find myself somewhere in the middle of deep sadness and incredible joy, wondering where it is I’m suppose to go from here. How I’m supposed to hold all the hard, sad things in life in the same hands as all the joy and excitement.
The good news is, though, that we don’t have to handle both. Like Peter said, even in the midst of trials and pain, we can find our infinite hope and joy in Jesus. And we know, as Believers, that Jesus is more than capable of handling both, and through the help of the Holy Spirit, we can hold the two in tension.
My grandmother had more faith than anyone else I know, and her life marked me in ways that words fall short to describe. One thing she taught me, though, is that no matter how hard life gets, no matter how painful things seem, there is ALWAYS joy in the morning (Psalm 30:5). That even though we live in a broken context, where sin and death still leave scars, Jesus is always 100% worth it. Like Peter said, our faith is tested that it “may be found to result in praise and glory and honor at the revelation of Jesus Christ…”
As I have wrestled in this tension of loss and joy, I have become even more certain that life is most beautiful and sweet in the tension. While our hearts long for peace, stability, and wholeness, I can tell you in confidence that we will never find that on this earth. In this broken and fallen context we live in, we will forever feel loss, sadness, and pain. But, because of Jesus’ work on the cross, we can greatly rejoice.