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 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 in particular was rampant.
Pulling up the bedcovers, I felt the heavy weight of uncertainty and fear begin to seep into my heart until suddenly, sunlight shone through my 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?
I know 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 and we didn’t know what each day would bring.
Many suffered terrible losses, not just of life or health, but of financial security and freedom. Many were separated from loved ones. 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. God’s words seemed like opposing instructions – how did they work together?
That season, 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 couldn’t attend school or their graduations. I wept for friends worried about their finances or who had lost jobs. I was mourning with all the people who had family members in the hospital, unable to have visitors. I was sad about the family we couldn’t see, the birthdays we couldn’t celebrate together, the activities of daily living we weren’t allowed to enjoy, and the futures we couldn’t plan. There was plenty to weep about in the early months of the pandemic.
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 couldn’t 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, I dug into the well of past experiences and realized I had been in this place before…the place where mourning and rejoicing coexisted. One such season was when I walked alongside my sister during her last years. Even though she suffered from a brutal, degenerative disease, we often marveled at the joy and peace we felt through our relationship with God. Such positive emotions in harrowing circumstances are not manufactured (cannot be manufactured) - but are like gifts.
The Covid crisis began unfolding in the United States during Lent – the forty days leading up to Easter, and it’s thanks to 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, who overcame the world and provided 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.
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 if we only seek Him.
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, the One who offers the only real hope we have. And His joy becomes our strength when we don’t have the power ourselves. We aren’t rejoicing IN the suffering; we are rejoicing DESPITE it. Because no matter what the world throws at us, Jesus already overcame it all.
Although it is right for me to mourn with those who mourn, and to feel sad about losses, if my only focus is sharing sorrow on this earth, I would not be focusing on the truth. Though we will have many sorrows on this broken earth, we nonetheless have hope in our souls through Christ.
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.
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 the truth of His existence, warmth, 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. It’s a new day. I might feel sad, but I will not despair. I will make my bed, open the curtains and be glad in the new day – allowing the light of Christ to shine on my soul by believing what He says is true and trusting Him.
“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?