Well, I hardly know what to say in this post. Having told you just two days ago of the tragic death of the young mum who died in childbirth, leaving a husband and five children, I now have more sad, sad news.
You remember my dear friends from the post, Hospitality....
One of their sons was found dead this morning.
I can't even think of what to say, but just a short while ago I read this. It's called, I'm Suffering from Sorrow Overload, and it's so relevant for the way I feel this morning.
Heavy.
Having spoken of the numerous prayer requests he's had recently, and the sadness of the international situation in many different nations of the world, and how overwhelming the sorrows and sadnesses can seem, David Murray goes on:
Then I ask myself, "Am I being selfish?" Or does God really require of me to take on all the sorrows and sadnesses of people I don't even know and nations I have no connection with whatsoever?
I want to sympathize with suffering people, but I feel so much my own emotional, mental, spiritual and even physical limitations. Am I allowed to say, "I don't want to hear of another tragedy?" "I can't cope with another cancer."
Then I worry, "What if it's me next? Or one of my children?" I too would probably send out prayer requests everywhere, with multiple minute medical updates.
The Man of sorrows
And all this leads me again to worship at the feet of the Lord Jesus who voluntarily came from his perfect peaceful home to this world of trouble and turmoil; who actively sought out sad people to sympathize with; who "bore our griefs and carried our sorrows"; "a man of sorrows and acquainted with grief."
And all this leads me again to worship at the feet of the Lord Jesus who voluntarily came from his perfect peaceful home to this world of trouble and turmoil; who actively sought out sad people to sympathize with; who "bore our griefs and carried our sorrows"; "a man of sorrows and acquainted with grief."
Behold the Man with unlimited sympathy and empathy. Behold his huge and unlimited heart. Behold his tender and sensitive love!
I come to Him, weary and heavy laden, saying: "Lord I cannot cope with all these sorrows. But you can. I have no more capacity, but you have. My sympathy reserves are empty, but yours are ever full. My heart is narrow and limited, but yours is immeasurably wide. Please take these sorrows and extend your sympathy. And more than that, add your power to your pity; add your hand to your heart. Feel what I cannot feel. And do what I cannot do."
And this last paragraph summed up what I needed to hear this morning. I feel almost too overwhelmed, too sore, to heavy, to have a coherent prayer. I can almost say nothing but, 'Oh Lord.... Lord...help them.' And then I sigh. 'Lord, help me'.
I don't even seem to know what to ask. What do you ask for when the people for whom you pray have just had their worst nightmare?
And then I'm reminded that He is able. He is able to sustain and to comfort in ways beyond my understanding. I'm reminded that He was the 'man of sorrows and acquainted with grief'. I'm reminded that He can bestow peace that is beyond our understanding. And I have to come to Him, with my sighing and my heaviness, leaving all at His feet believing that He is the great Comforter who is able to do all that I can not.
