“I cannot say to you I know exactly what you are going through. But I can say I know the One who knows. And I’ve come to see that it’s through the deepest suffering that God has taught me the deepest lessons.”
Elisabeth Elliot, Suffering is Never for Nothing
This post may contain affiliate links. If you are using Amazon, thanks for using our link. We receive a small commission at no cost to you.
We all go through those seasons that feel like a long, dark winter. The past year has certainly felt that way. My mama died; we lost our baby in miscarriage; one of our children fights an invisible battle every day – most don’t know, few understand. And our extended family is staring ahead into the unknown of a difficult and scary medical diagnosis. How I’ve grieved over death and broken dreams and the weight of watching those I love struggle. Yes, winter has lingered long, and I’ve been searching for evidence of spring.
I know that you, too, have your own story of heartbreak and pain. I do not know exactly what you are going through, but I know the One who knows. And I know that it is through my own grief that I have looked into the heart of God and known Him more deeply. That’s the way through the barren seasons of the soul – getting right up next to the heart of God. I am learning that as long as winter lingers, to linger longer in scripture, in prayer, to dig deep and bury the seeds for a future harvest. Fruit-bearing season will come again when the time is right. I am called only to remain in Him (John 15:4).
There’s a verse of scripture often on my mind, from Lamentations 3:20-26.
I will never forget this awful time,
as I grieve over my loss.
Yet I still dare to hope
when I remember this:
The faithful love of the LORD never ends!
His mercies never cease.
Great is His faithfulness;
His mercies begin afresh each morning.
I say to myself, “The LORD is my inheritance;
therefore, I will hope in Him!”
The LORD is good to those who depend on Him,
to those who search for Him.
So it is good to wait quietly
for salvation from the LORD.
How grateful I am for the word of God! This passage permits me to give space to my grief, to be honest about my feelings: I will never forget this awful time as I grieve over my loss. The Lord never feels awkward around the grieving person, as we are prone to be. He doesn’t stumble over words. He’s not afraid to bring it up. Instead, He moves in closer to the broken, close enough to collect each tear, (Psalm 34:18, 56:8). Held there, under the safety of His wings, we are free to grieve. A soul can feel utterly broken, and still dare to hope.
Lamentations 3 makes that clear. I will never forget this awful time, as I grieve over my loss. Yet I still dare to hope, when I remember this…Scripture makes room for lament. It models the honesty of a hurting soul crying out to God with questions, and then redirects our attention past the pain to the heart of God. What do we find there? Faithful love. Unceasing mercy. Endless opportunities to begin again when the soul bends low, each day afresh with new mercies.
That is the work of lament, of the one who hurts and still dares to hope. If that’s you, my friend, you have permission to bare your soul, open and honest before God, and still cling with all you have to His faithful, compassionate hand. Remember this: the faithful love of the Lord for you never ends! His mercies for you never cease. Great is His faithfulness to you. His mercies for you begin afresh each morning. Say to yourself, “I hurt, yet, I hope in the Lord!” A prayer that begins in pain will give way to praise when we remember who our God is.
If a long, barren soul-winter lingers, linger longer in the presence of God. Take it slow, and allow time for lament. In fact, we need lament. Its pathways move us from heartbreak to hope (Dark Clouds, Deep Mercy). God works through grief to position broken hearts right up next to His. His heart is gentle, and it’s the one place where grieving souls find rest. Rest and remain in Him. One day you will see evidence of life and fruit on your branches, and spring will come once again. I believe it, because I am living it. Courage, dear friend – I dare you to hope!
