Rejoicing in the Mourning
Life during the Covid-19 lockdown was like in the movie Groundhog Day, where the main character wakes up and lives the same day over again. Each day was hard to distinguish from the last.
The national crisis brought about a feeling of surrealism for everyone as we all processed (collectively but separately) the massive shift in our day-to-day lives, habits, and ways of relating to one another. Moments of loss or pain over one thing or another came in regular waves.
Routinely doing ordinary, daily chores brought some comfort.
One morning, while making my bed, sadness for a friend who had recently lost a close family member swept over me. As I empathized with the pain she must have been feeling, I suddenly experienced a deep longing to see elderly loved ones sheltering in place far away from me. I wondered how long it would be before I could hug them again. In the early days of the pandemic, concern for older relatives was particularly rampant.
Pulling up the bedcovers, I felt the heavy weight of uncertainty and fear begin to seep into my heart. But just as the wave of sorrow began to feel overwhelming, the light of the rising sun suddenly shone through the window and onto the coverlet. As if someone placed the words from Psalm 118:24 into my head, I thought, “This is the day that the Lord has made; rejoice and be glad in it.”
This verse was puzzling, though. Was it right to rejoice in a time like that?
The ability to feel joy, despite our daily reality, is supposed to be one of the benefits of our faith, a fruit of the Holy Spirit. God tells us to “rejoice always, pray continually and give thanks in all circumstances.” (1 Thessalonians 5:16). But rejoicing felt somehow wrong when the world was suffering with no end in sight. In that moment, sorrow was overcoming joy.
God may have said to rejoice always, but he also said to “mourn with those who mourn and weep with those who weep.” Right then, almost everyone was mourning and weeping. Many people I knew had suffered terrible losses, not just of life or health, but of financial security and freedom. Many were separated from loved ones. In that season, God’s words seemed like opposing instructions – how did they work together?
In those early days of the pandemic, I was weeping from afar with a friend who couldn’t proceed with cancer treatment because of the Covid risk. I was crying with a neighbor who was separated from his children and grandchildren. My heart was breaking for students who could not attend school, prom, or graduation. I wept for friends as they worried about their finances or lost jobs. I was mourning with all the people who had family members in the hospital, alone with no visitors allowed. I was sad about the family we could not see, the birthdays we could not celebrate together, the activities of daily living we were not allowed to enjoy, and the futures we could not plan. There was plenty to weep about in the early months of Covid.
On top of those major issues, even little things felt more irritating, discouraging, and challenging than usual. Cable problems, a broken crockpot that ruined our dinner, a flat tire, and a child’s injury for which we could not seek treatment had me on edge. Each day carried an undercurrent of worry and stress. Rejoicing felt impossible.
And yet, as I continued making my bed, it dawned on me that this was not a new feeling. I had been in this place before, many times. The place where mourning and rejoicing coexisted was familiar. I thought back to the last years of my sister’s life. Even though she suffered from a brutal, neurodegenerative disease, we often marveled together at the inexplicable joy and peace we felt, thanks to God’s love and provision. Such positive emotions in harrowing circumstances cannot be manufactured.
The Covid crisis began unfolding in the United States during Lent – the forty days leading up to Easter, and it is because of the death and resurrection of Christ that we can experience supernatural peace in the worst times. Easter is that holy season when we celebrate that we have a God who came down to be with us, providing a way for us to have eternal life and a connection to him now. These unchanging facts are the truths about which we can always rejoice.
Nothing can separate us from God’s love and provision or the joy they incite. As Christians, we have this joy every day – no power on earth can steal it, not even death or the shadow of death.
In any circumstance, we can rejoice that we live in the very presence of God through his Holy Spirit. We are not alone, even when separated from those we love. God is always with us. Every day, he offers us the possibility of supernatural calm and peace for our spirits and minds and shows us how to live beyond ourselves and our worries. He comforts us on a soul level.
God doesn’t tell us to rejoice in dark, difficult times because he is cruel, but because he is the God who has conquered all of this. He allows us space to lament, and even gives examples throughout the Bible. But he also offers the only real hope we have in sorrow. And he offers his joy as our strength when we have no worldly cause for joy. Rejoicing gives courage and buoys the spirits. It turns our hearts in the right direction toward truth and light and away from darkness. God knows we need to rejoice - it is good for our souls as well as our witnesses - and He has given us the best reason to do it.
Although it is right for me to mourn with those who mourn and to feel sad about losses, if I only focus on the sorrows of this life, I would be missing the whole truth. In this world, we will have trouble. But we can be of good cheer, because Christ overcame the world.
I know that, just like when I was making the bed that morning, the negative emotions and thoughts will come. Sometimes they will threaten to overwhelm. But like the sun, God’s light is still shining. Shadows can’t block his welcome light, warm love, or overcoming power.
God is near; His offer of salvation is accessible to us all. Because of Christ’s death, we are invited into a relationship with God that is cause for rejoicing. Through the power of the Holy Spirit, I have the ability to rejoice. Because of God’s love, I have the will to rejoice. As difficult times unfold, sadness does not have to give way to despair when we allow the light of Christ to shine in our souls.
“And the peace and of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.” (Philippians 4:7)
Do you believe it is possible to rejoice, even while mourning? How does this call to “rejoice always” resonate with you during the current crisis? What would it take to experience God’s peace and joy more deeply in any circumstance?