Blessed Are Those Who Mourn
You weep, and Jesus weeps with you.
“Blessed are those who mourn, for they shall be comforted.”
-Matthew 5:4
“Oak Fractured by Lightning” by Maxim Vorobiev (1842); created as an allegory for the death of his wife.
Dear friends,
This week was a week of mourning in the midst of a season of mourning. Societally there is just so much. Another Black American shot. A pandemic continuing. A church fractured.
And personally there is just so much as well. Whether that is job loss, relationship loss, or trauma. Sickness, fear, or anxiety. There is so much to mourn.
And yet we have this promise: that somehow—someway—Jesus sees you and me. And he comforts us, whatever our mourning may be. He does not rush us through it but sits with us in it.
I hope the words below are a comfort for you.
with you,
drew
Lawrence, Jacob. Panel 16. 1940–41, The Museum of Modern Art, New York.
“The simple fact of being heartbroken, grief-stricken, in mourning is blessed…. On Jesus’ authority, in deep sadness human beings are in God’s hands more than at any other time.”
-Dale Frederick Bruner (Matthew, 164)
“Blessed are those who mourn.”
Blessed are those who’s contractions come early, who sit waiting for a conviction, who feel the loss anew every fall, when the leaves are orange and the heart is brittle. Blessed are those who discover hidden lives and hidden families, blessed are those who can’t step a foot towards church because the scars are still open, the trauma is still flowing. Blessed are those who fight their addiction and lose, sitting on the edge of their bed, staring into emptiness. Blessed is the face staring back in the mirror; the one with bags and frown lines and stretch marks and wrist scars. Blessed are those who are not believed, who are made to feel inferior, who stare into a world calling them crazy.
Blessed is that person, blessed is this person: blessed is the human soul falling into an abyss.
This blessing isn’t dependent on your goodness, your sanctity, or the last time you tithed. It can’t be bought or earned or wagered for. It simply is. It is there, in your moment, because you mourn. No way around it, no person too removed from it. It exists because your feelings exist.
“For they shall be comforted.”
Van Gogh, Vincent. At Eternity’s Gate. 1890, Kröller-Müller Museum, Otterlo, Netherlands.
“Jesus wept” (John 11:35).
It, this blessedness, is Jesus—the human-church, the man God called Son, the man with dusty feet and weary eyes. This man wept for a friend who had died, knowing he would soon raise that same friend from the dead. Surrounded by mourning, he did not immediately rise above it. He did not say, “You idiots, I am Jesus” or “Everything happens for a reason” or “Heaven added another angel.”
No, he sat and he wept.
He was overcome with the reality of a world gone mad. A world in which rain falls on the rapists and the righteous, a world where mothers and wives die too early and abusers get away. He wept in the face of death and did not rush the room to smiles or minimize the expanse that is desperation, sadness, mourning.
He wept, stood up, and brought his friend back to life.
But still, he wept.
You tell yourself it happened too long ago to keep weeping. That life should be brought back to your eyes, that color should return to your cheeks.
But still, you weep.
And still, he weeps with you.
You’ve kept track of my every toss and turn
through the sleepless nights,
Each tear entered in your ledger,
each ache written in your book.-Psalm 56:8 (The Message)
Just like the last newsletter, if you need someone to speak with, here is an excellent resource with caring people ready to listen and to help. You are not alone.
-drew