A Time to Weep

Blessed are those who mourn, for they shall be comforted. – Matthew 5:4 (NIV)

  I experienced grief for the first time when my father died. I was 20 years old and in college. I learned firsthand what personal loss meant. There were no grief counselors to walk me through the long nights. I had to step into the future without the man who was my hero. 

  Following my father’s death, my mother’s health declined. For the next 15 years, until her death, Alzheimer’s disease robbed me of the mother I needed more now that I had children. I’d stand at the card racks every Mother’s Day and weep. I grieved my mother for the 15 years I slowly lost her. When she died, I was comforted, for her spirit – vibrant personality and generous love – finally soared free.

My beloved Aunt Betty passed away twenty years ago. It was to her, my godmother, my idol, that I dedicated my first book. From the time I took my first breath, she was a golden ray of sunshine, warming, welcoming, loving me as I was, guiding and encouraging me to become what she knew I could be.       

Then, four months later, my sister was suddenly taken from us. We were supposed to commiserate growing old together. I sat, shivering, trembling, sobbing, for days. I reread her last email over and over until my computer crashed and I lost it. 

 We grieve when we lose something precious to us. We mourn because what we lost can never be replaced. There is a void in our lives, a hole in our hearts that nothing can fill. But we learn to go on.

This is the kind of grief God wants us to feel for sin – our own, personal sin and the sin in the world around us. This is the mourning Jesus meant when He said, “Blessed are those who mourn, for they shall be comforted.” 

Why are we to mourn sin? Because sin has robbed us of something precious and vital – a relationship with a holy God who created us for Himself. Without God, there is a hole in our spiritual hearts, a void in our lives nothing but He can fill. We try to go on but something is missing.

The first three chapters of Genesis tell the whole sad story. Ever since then, man has been running from the One who hasn’t given up on him. With our sin, we cannot stand in His holy presence (Isaiah 6:1–7). We cannot remove our sin ourselves. Only the blood of a perfect substitute for us can do that. And God sent His own Son to be that substitute. When Jesus died on that cross, He took my punishment (Romans 6:23). His shed blood removes my sin so that I can enter God’s presence (1 John 1:9; 5:11–12) and spend eternity there. But we have to accept His gift. Some don’t.

The Greek word for “blessed” in these verses (makarioi) is an adjective that means “happy.” How can we be happy and sad at the same time? 

We can be sad for the sin that creates a barrier between us and the God who wants us with Him forever – and we can be happy for the way He has provided for us to His home in Heaven.

But we aren’t to keep this good news to ourselves – we are to feel grief at the sin in the world around us so deeply that we are to mourn, and our mourning will drive us to spread the Word.

 When you mourn, the nights are long. But mourning is over when the Son rises. And then His rays will warm, welcome, love, guide and encourage you until that day you finally arrive home.

Father, I don’t mourn enough. Give me a heart for the hurting, a love for the lost, and a sorrow for the sin in the world around me. Open my eyes to the opportunities to tell others of Your love. Amen.

Read and reflect on Ezekiel 9:1–6 and Psalm 51.

From God, Me, & a Cup of Tea, Vol. 3 © 2019 Michele Huey. All rights reserved.