Today, I stumbled upon a blog entry I wrote almost two years ago (October 19, 2010). I wanted to share it here with you because it captures my heart at a time when one of the deepest revelations the Father was granting me was finding virtue and even joy in mourning. The subject touches the happy principle of “blessed are those who mourn,” but it goes further than the promise of comfort to say,
Those who sow with tears shall reap with shouts of joy – Psalm 126:5
I want to tackle this subject, this virtue of mourning, more in-depth, but I’ll start the ball rolling with sharing this nearly two-year-old blog that still seems so fresh to my soul . . .
My abandoned house proved a precious and unexpected treasure this week (…she writes as she sits anxiously straining for the sounds of luggage rolling noisily up the driveway). Rather than seeking to fill my new hours of solitude with busyness or pleasure, I stumbled into the grace of just longing to sit at my Father’s feet. I can’t say that anything particularly miraculous or life-changing occurred in these days, except that it did – in simplicity. Truly, is there anything less-than-miraculous about a girl sitting with the Creator of the universe? Or anything more life-changing than the peace His presence speaks to my soul?
So shalom was the word of the week, capped with a particularly sweet Shabbat. Sunday marked a transition. I’ll spare you a bit of foolishness about dreams and bicycles and move straight into the afternoon, when, after a brief post-church nap, I awoke feeling like I’d been hit by a bus. Unable to shake the truly bizarre lethargy even after a few hours of worship, I “couched-up” under a blanket and decided to read a blog I’d e-mailed to myself earlier in the week. I had titled the subject of the e-mail “yeah.” The title of the blog entry, “when you’re dying to live radical: fight the middle ground,” just didn’t require any further affirmation.
I won’t cheapen the read by summarizing it – I’ll just say that if you are (dying, that is), you’ll find a cool stream here, kept fresh with the tears of the saints.
Reluctant to move from those waters, I found my eyes catching another related title in my inbox, “the outcry against Sodom.” This was a short “thought for the week” from a Messianic devotional that related an ancient Jewish legend concerning the judgment of Sodom for its sin of having “arrogance, abundant food and careless ease” and yet refusing to help the poor and needy (Ezekiel 16:49-50). According to the legend, one of the daughters of Lot saw a poor man on the street of the city and felt so overcome with grief for the man that she secretly fed him despite Sodom’s law that condemned anyone caught “strengthening the hand of the poor and needy with a loaf of bread” to be burnt by fire. After she was caught and sentenced, she cried out to the Father for mercy, and He answered her cry with the judgment of Sodom. The sages point out that the word for “outcry” in Genesis 18 (which speaks of the outcry against Sodom and Gomorrah), could be read to mean “her cry.”
Hazorim bedimah [the name of the older blog] is a Hebrew transliteration of “those who sow with tears.” The subject has become dear to my heart over the past year as I have learned to grieve and am now just beginning to see how the Father truly waters the tears sown by His saints to bring forth “shouts of joy.” I am coming to believe that our tears may be the mightiest weapon of intercession that mankind possesses. Its wielding (/yielding), then, is one of great responsibility.
Though the cry of Lot’s daughter may be only a legend, the tears of the prophets, of Hannah, of Mary of Bethany, of Jesus…. certainly of nameless men and women around the world, have shaped all of our lives. My prayer is for a heart tender enough to weep when He weeps, and lovesick enough to waste all of my tears at His feet.
You have kept count of my tossings; put my tears in your bottle. Are they not in your book? – Psalm 56:8
…linking up with others battling for joy: