During the days of Jesus' life on earth, he offered up prayers and petitions with loud
cries and tears to the one who could save him from death, and he was heard because of his
reverent submission. Although he was a son, he learned obedience from what he suffered
and, once made perfect, he became the source of eternal salvation for all who obey him...

—Hebrews 5:7-9

Hope.  The first unity candle, signalling our hope in Christ, was lit by a young couple and
their two year-old daughter, her pigtails bobbing with each step.  As I sat in my pew alone,
I remembered when we were them, healthy and strong, ready to face the world, excited to
be serving the Lord—and the tears started to flow.  I have no hope today, God, I silently
confessed.

Our Sunday School class struggles with questions I know Dave could answer, if God
would but release him to the service he loves.  Instead Dave is home, left with no answer
to the unthinkable question:  Will I need to be taken care of for the rest of my life?  I know
the question comes with the requisite "herx" reaction from the antibiotics killing off Lyme,
causing pain and anxiety and a whole host of symptoms.  But that doesn't erase the pain of
the question, or the agony of not knowing.  

There is a truth in there that Jesus understood.  When Lazarus died, He too wept, felt
deeply the pain that Mary and Martha felt.  It didn't matter that He knew He could bring
Lazarus back to life—understanding didn't erase the pain of the moment.  He called out to
God, and God heard—and answered—and Lazarus was brought back to life.  And isn't that
what we all long for, the God who answers with His power and love?  Then we know our
prayers have been heard.

But God doesn't answer simply yes—or no or wait awhile.  When Jesus cried out to God
the night before His death, "take this cup from me," He was again heard (Hebrews 5:7-9).  
And God answered powerfully and with love as He strengthened Jesus' resolve to say "not
my will, but yours be done."  We can see the progression in Jesus' prayers in Matthew 26:
36-46.  And Luke 22:43 tells us specifically that He was strengthened—and then afterward
"being in anguish, he prayed more earnestly, and his sweat was like drops of blood falling
to the ground."  

We do not have a benign paternal God who looks down from on High with occasional
sympathy.  We have Emmanuel:  God with us.  The God whose Holy Spirit has chosen to
dwell IN us.  Do we stop to think what this means?  

The God who lived through intense anguish in His life on earth, continues to choose to live
through it along with us.  He doesn't merely see our pain; He says that "whatever you did
for one of the least of these brothers of mine, you did for me."  (Mt 25:40).  He is hungry,
thirsty, a stranger, naked, sick, and in prison, along with us.  When He says "never will I
leave you, never will I forsake you," He means to impart a depth of love that if we truly
understood it, would take our breath away.  

What you and I live through, often unvoluntarily, God has chosen to live through with us,
intimately, daily, weeping with us.

Why He would choose pain rather than immediately use His power to "fix" everything, I
don't know—but I have a glimpse of some possibilities. I think Jesus knows that power
doesn't erase pain—He wept when Lazarus died, even though he then went on to raise him
from the dead.  When someone lives through something with us—really cares—they can
comfort in a way someone more distant can't.  

On a deeper level I sense, as strange as this may sound, that God thinks we are worth
the pain He goes through with us, and the anguish Jesus suffered on the cross—and that
the prize He is seeking is us, is relationship with us.  Something that power alone could not
accomplish.  In us, and walking with us, God is bringing about our holiness.  He is making
possible a relationship that will fulfill us so much that we will look back and think the pain
was worth it, was miniscule in comparison.  We can't see that now, but one day we will.  

Are you hurting, feeling without hope, maybe even dreading Christmas this year?  Pour
your heart out to God.  Grief and depression can't be rushed—and they are not without
purpose.  God is a redeemer, and He will redeem this time, and restore your soul. Cling to
Him.

Ps 71:20
Though you have made me see troubles, many and bitter, you will restore my life again;
from the depths of the earth you will again bring me up.

Lam 2:19
"...pour out your heart like water in the presence of the Lord..."

Ps 73:21-26
When my heart was grieved and my spirit embittered, I was senseless and ignorant; I was a
brute beast before you. Yet I am always with you; you hold me by my right hand. You
guide me with your counsel, and afterward you will take me into glory. Whom have I in
heaven but you? And earth has nothing I desire besides you. My flesh and my heart may
fail, but God is the strength of my heart and my portion forever.

Ps 13:1-6
How long, O LORD? Will you forget me forever? How long will you hide your face from
me? How long must I wrestle with my thoughts and every day have sorrow in my heart?
How long will my enemy triumph over me? Look on me and answer, O LORD my God.
Give light to my eyes, or I will sleep in death; my enemy will say, "I have overcome him,"
and my foes will rejoice when I fall. But I trust in your unfailing love; my heart rejoices in
your salvation. I will sing to the LORD, for he has been good to me.

May God richly bless you with His presence.