Tears of the World

I was tired. It was Tuesday night, the last night of my time away. I was about to delve into Isaiah. I love Isaiah, especially chapter 6. Every chapter in Isaiah makes me worship Him more and more. I’d read it in French (a habit I’ve started so I don’t lose my French), but was praying some through my ‘list’ before reading it in English. The mother of the family I was staying with had been keeping me updated about the Tsunami and situation in Bahrain. Before heading to my room, I’d gone to the computer to see a friend’s status update about Bahrain. Another friend had emailed me days before about the situation in Yemen. I thought of all the death. I wondered, ‘What if it happened here? What if I had to leave suddenly? What would I take?’

Then in my French Bible I found a plane ticket from our trip to Lebanon almost a year ago. That land stole my heart. I then looked at the calendar. Friday marked one year since Mr. Hinkson’s death.

I think my heart was especially tender that night from the work God was doing in me, or maybe the weight of it all just came down so suddenly.  I was bawling. I reached for my iPod and fumbled through songs and albums until I came to Michael Card’s album, “The Hidden Face of God.” God has used that CD so much already.
I remembered a song that was a prayer to receive the gift of His grieving – His compassion on the crowds, His weeping at Lazarus’s tomb, as the man of Sorrows.

“In any split second of a moment in time
In the blink that is one single day
The sum of the sorrow that wraps round the world
Could catch every soul up and sweep them away

As vast as the ocean as deep as the sea
Swept up in one toxic tide
By the warm salty waves the world weeps its woe
So how could it be that my own eyes are dry?

So open my eyes and open my heart
Grant me the gift of Your grieving
Awaken in me the compassion to weep
Just one of the tears of the world

When God walked among us in the fullness of time
He wept tears as old as the world
Acquainted with sorrow he took up the cup
And drank every drop of the poison that heals

And so comes the call of this sorrowful Man
To set our small sadness aside
To come now and follow no matter the cost
To follow Him boldly and wade in the tide.”

As the song finished, I wanted more on the Man of Sorrows. So I turned to Isaiah 53. And the weight of knowing He has borne our sorrows hit me. My soul sang. He has borne this all. He knows it. He felt it, too. He is near in my heartache and tears.

The earth is groaning (Romans 8). But He still reigns supreme. “The waves and wind still know/the Voice that ruled them while He dwelt below.” He has triumphed over death. He will put earthly rulers to shame (Col. 2).
He is over it all. He will be glorified in it all.
I can’t wait to see how.

The whole theme of boldness is still running through my life. THe boldness I have before His throne because of Christ, that I don’t have to fear man because He has conquered death and my soul is secure, that He is in control of the earth – the natural disasters and human disasters, the rulers…
“There is a time and a way for everything, although a man’s troubles lie heavily upon Him… for He does not know what is to be, for who can tell how it will be?” – Ecclesiastes 8:6-7.

I’ve purposed not to worry. Not to fear. To be bold, to stand firm. To see how He is glorified in bringing down people (see Isaiah 5).
To draw near to Him through the vale of tears, and rejoice in the compassion that causes me to weep, because it is like Him.

“Didn’t see you there,
Didn’t know You were weeping too,
I think of tears as a human wound:
Though of course You care, You have shown
You were human too,
They say You cried at Lazrus’ tomb.

I was unaware how it is with a broken God,
I thought of You as above my pain;
Lost in my despair, so it is with a broken heart,
I never dreamed You could feel the same.

Once, in a magazine I saw a face
Wrinkled up in grief and travailed grace,
I kept looking to that face, some sad refugee in some sad place,
And in his eyes the sorrow of our race,
Then I saw it was the face of God,
the face of God – Your face, dear God.

Some say You’re not there, just a myth for a lazy life,
An artifact from an ancient scroll,
But I have known You near in the gift of a weary sigh,
Lord of the lost and lonesome soul.

I was unaware how it is with a broken God,
I never dreamed You could feel the same.”

Pro Christo,

{photos from Texas, back in October}


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