Joy and Sorrow: A Beautiful Dance

Stirred anew by the beauty of the gospel, an overwhelming sense of illumination spread like fire in my heart. Joy and sorrow intermingled, two cords of the same braid. I call it a beautiful crushing.

It’s the place where God reminds me of my desperate need for Him, and just how much I’ve been given in Jesus. The worship gathering continued, but I lingered, astonished by a singular concept.

For a married woman is bound by law to her husband while he lives, but if her husband dies she is released from the law of marriage. Accordingly, she will be called an adulteress if she lives with another man while her husband is alive, But if her husband dies, she is free from the law, and if she marries another man, she is not an adulteress. Likewise, my brothers you have died to the law through the body of Christ, so that you may belong to another, to Him who has been raised from the dead, in order that we may bear fruit for God.” Romans 7:2-4 

  • I no longer belong to my husband.
  • One day I may belong to another.
  • I already belong to Jesus.

I’ve read this passage countless times since Jon died, but never have its contents seemed so radical.

Sorrow and joy wove an intricate dance, somehow moving harmoniously together. I still miss belonging to Jon, but joy swelled at thoughts of renewal, reversal, and redemption. Joy blossomed at the idea of belonging to another. A year ago, sorrow would have vastly outweighed joy, but now they feel more compatible.

joy and sorrowI’ve long since realized that counter to cultural expectations, joy and sorrow may be equally present. The ultimate oxymoron, one does not necessarily exclude the other. For Christ had deep sorrow over the weight of sin, but also deep abiding joy to do the Father’s will. Joy and sorrow mingled at the cross, and learned they could dwell together.  And if I didn’t know death, I wouldn’t understand their harmony.

Joy and sorrow: a profound illustration of the gospel, yet death and remarriage exemplify it further. While Jon was here, we were bound to each other by a covenant made before God and man. And of course, I cherished that covenant. As hard as it is to process, at his death, we were no longer bound together.

Clearly the analogy breaks down, for marriage to Jon was not sin, nor was I captive to him. But the application is clear.

“Before receiving the gospel, we are ‘married’ to sin because we have broken God’s law and are chained to its verdict and mastery.” (Commentary, Gospel Transformation Bible)

I once was bound to sin. But now I belong to Another. I belong to “Him who has been raised from the dead,” free from the law’s condemnation and sin’s inescapable vice.

I belong to Someone. 

In marriage Jon was mine and I was his. How I loved belonging to him and miss belonging to him! And how I long to belong to another again someday. However, infinitely more precious than belonging to a husband, I belong to Jesus. I am Christ’s and He is mine. I’m not guaranteed remarriage, but I already belong.

Joy and Sorrow. Death and thoughts of remarriage: an intermingling I wouldn’t have chosen, but I marvel at such a beautiful dance.

Lord, no longer belonging to a husband is a hard thing to grapple. Sorrow. But to belong to You is inestimably better! Joy. In Jesus, I belong. And I always will belong! Oh, God, use the intermingling of sorrow and joy to draw me ever closer to you; through them I see all that Jesus accomplished. I marvel that Jesus embraced sorrow, so I would have joy.


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Just a Recipe

Recipe

Guest post by Jill Neff.

I know every word by heart, but today I look at the card as if I expect it to speak to me. Flowing handwriting, faded with time, passed down from one generation to another. The ingredients sit silently in a line on the counter, like little toy soldiers, waiting for me. And I know if I don’t start soon, this pie will not be finished in time.

I linger, letting my mind wander back in time to a young bride. She walks through the field to the house next door. A gentle woman she now calls mother-in-law waits to teach her the intricate secrets of baking so the bride can indulge her new husband’s sweet tooth.  Her recipe book quickly fills with everything from sugar cookies and date nut cake to chocolate and coconut cream pies!

Reluctantly, I’m drawn back to the present, reminded by my “little toy soldiers” that I need to get moving.  How quickly time goes by.

The new bride is now white-haired, and those hands that so eagerly worked in the kitchen are quiet now.  No more enticing smells rise from the oven and no sweet treats cool on the counter.

I should not dawdle, but today I am compelled to consider this faded old card.  The white-haired, long since bride is my mother, and her recipes are now my recipes.

But time is not my friend. Yesterday we sat together, quietly talking as the world flowed by around us. These days, I gently provide context when she can’t remember, but I do most of the talking. And try to imagine what it will be like when the last ray of recognition leaves her eyes.

I wonder how long my brother and his sweet wife can continue care in their home and how my siblings and I will manage.  I try to be brave, but I am not.  I try to trust, but it’s hard.

And I try to pretend she will not forget me, BUT SHE WILL.

Dementia. It splatters paint with a broad brush with no regard for the subject or the canvas. There are good days. And there are bad days lurking just around the corner in the shadows. Changes and questions without answers abound.

“Will she stop loving me when she no longer recognizes who I am?”

A quote shared by a sweet friend burns deeply in my heart, “Forever remember me loving you!” 

I cling to them like a drowning man to a life preserver.  My biggest fear exposed, yet in five little words, I find my answer.

My mom won’t stop loving me.

She just won’t remember that she loves me.  There’s a big difference.

The Holy Spirit has a deeper lesson for me today.  Walking this path may bring constant changes, but I am walking with the One who is UNCHANGEABLE!   I am walking with the One whose love is everlasting and who will never forget that He loves me, even when my fainting heart thinks otherwise. 

Unchanging promises and never-ending grace. 

There is no other way to do this journey, but with my God. Truth brings peace, and my soul is quiet.

All this. From a faded recipe card.

Lord, when the journey seems unbearable, help me to walk closer and cling harder to you. When the path is rough, give me grace and strength for what comes next.  And I will trust in your everlasting love and rest in your comforting presence!

~Jill


Check out another post by my awesome mother-in-law:

Love the Unlovely?

And for my own thoughts on in-laws:

I won’t shut them out.

Adoption and the County Fair