Wind gapes through these brunette locks and catches the droplets of sorrow and grief. I imagine my wet teardrop being whisked away to a heavenly storehouse where my perfect Jesus bottles it in His unfailing love and healing grace. There's clouds hovering and the air is thick and heavy with grey. But piercing through, a single ray of fierce light. It fights the darkness and the cold. And I fight the suffering and sin all the same.
From the mysterious realm of cloud and sky, new droplets descend. They crash with a roar against the green earth. The ray of sun shattered in one piercing instant. Feet wade in the fresh puddle. Tendrils drip wet and eyes close beneath the impending storm.
Teardrops and rain mix, and together they create one big thundering roar.
And it all seems to be too much. Even if just for an instant.
I'm a forgetful creature. I'm a woman of self-absorption, gripped with sin, whose brokenness often blurs a holy perspective. But the skies open. Rain falls. God's grace reigns abundant. I sorrow, but also does He. I weep with a covering of safety, knowing that He has already wept.
I love that God's grace doesn't demand that our wounds be ignored or forgotten. God completely frees us from the veil of shame because His grace already bore that wound.
We weep and we mourn and we suffer- Adam and Eve's fall ever infectious over these lives we live- and we ache for all the suffering in our world to be healed.
I pour hot tea into my most favorite mug. Dark caramel, cream, and black cherry dancing wildly together in a cup. I feel restless. and maybe it's because I'm thank-less?
I'm reminded: "Enter into His gates with thanksgiving."
One of my most favorite quotes from Ann Voskamp: Deep chara joy is found only at the table of the euCHARisteo – the table of thanksgiving…As long as thanks is possible, then joy is always possible. Joy is always possible. Whenever, meaning – now; wherever, meaning – here…Here, in the messy, piercing ache of now, joy might be – unbelievably – possible!
The beautiful miracle of healing and restoration and overwhelming joy- that miracle we ache for beneath those heavy skies and disappointments, when failure runs deep and we bear brutal scars, when scary change looms on the horizon- it comes when we offer thanks.
I fully, 100%, with everything I am, believe this.
It comes when we, with sorrow raging wild and darkness swirling, sit at His feet with gratitude saturating our wet, tear stained cheeks and whisper truth.
Discouragement, anxiety, fear, anger, sadness... it just can't stick with a thankful heart for long.
And it's so hard. It's a hard offering, my dear friends.
But it's so worth the miracle of perfect Jesus joy. It's so worth satisfying the craving of indescribable beauty and life abundant.
In the frustrating, foolish, hungry, relentless pursuit of eternal joy... there is such a valuable secret.
This is it.
My tea cup is empty. So I reach for the red glazed pot and pour it until it fills.
And I reach for that Word and receive the filling. I clutch truth, and in sorrow's place is perspective.
In the gospel of John, it says that on the night Jesus was betrayed, He took the cup- the cup of suffering and death and costly crucifixion- and He gave thanks.
So I take the cup,
of scary changes,
of death,
of loss of love,
of scarred reputation,
of stabbing words,
of abandonment,
of pierced plans,
of fear of the future,
of this wounded walk of life,
and I give thanks.
I give thanks.
For grace. For the God of grace who covers all and sustains all. For the heart of that God, who is for me and never against me. For the Giver of every good and perfect gift. For the God who allows me to suffer, never separating me from His goodness. For the Healer, who comforts, but also cries. With me, beside me. For the perfect God in whom joy is ALWAYS possible.
I give thanks.
And suddenly, the clouds disappear and the rain dries up. Darkness shrivels back in fear.
Sunshine!! It's so good to see you.
What a beautiful day.
Giving thanks,
Lyss
