19) Strength From the Sorrow
"Now it came to pass after the death of Moses,
the servant of the Lord, that the Lord spake unto
Joshua, the son of Nun, Moses' minister, saying,
Moses my servant is dead; now, therefore arise,
go over this Jordan, thou and all this people"
(Joshua 1:1-2).
Sorrow came to you yesterday, and emptied your
home. Your first impulse now is to give up, and
sit down in despair amid the wrecks of your
hopes. But you dare not do it. You are in the
line of battle, and the crisis is at hand. To
falter a moment would be to imperil some holy
interest. Other lives would be harmed by your
pausing, holy interests would suffer, should your
hands be folded. You must not linger even to
indulge your grief.
A distinguished general related this pathetic
incident of his own experience in time of war.
The general's son was a lieutenant of battery. An
assault was in progress. The father was leading
his division in a charge; as he pressed on in the
field, suddenly his eye was caught by the sight
of a dead battery-officer lying just before him.
One glance showed him it was his own son. His
fatherly impulse was to stop beside the loved
form and give vent to his grief, but the duty of
the moment demanded that he should press on in
the charge; so, quickly snatching one hot kiss
from the dead lips, he hastened away, leading his
command in the assault.
Weeping inconsolably beside a grave can never
give back love's banished treasure, nor can any
blessing come out of such sadness. Sorrow makes
deep scars; it writes its record ineffaceably on
the heart which suffers. We really never get over
our great griefs; we are never altogether the
same after we have passed through them as we were
before. Yet there is a humanizing and fertilizing
influence in sorrow which has been rightly
accepted and cheerfully borne. Indeed, they are
poor who have never suffered, and have none of
sorrow's marks upon them. The joy set before us
should shine upon our grief as the sun shines
through the clouds, glorifying them. God has so
ordered, that in pressing on in duty we shall
find the truest, richest comfort for ourselves.
Sitting down to brood over our sorrows, the
darkness deepens about us and creeps into our
heart, and our strength changes to weakness. But,
if we turn away from the gloom, and take up the
tasks and duties to which God calls us, the light
will come again, and we shall grow stronger.
--J. R. Miller
Thou knowest that through our tears
Of hasty, selfish weeping
Comes surer sin, and for our petty fears
Of loss thou hast in keeping
A greater gain than all of which we dreamed;
Thou knowest that in grasping
The bright possessions which so precious seemed
We lose them; but if, clasping
Thy faithful hand, we tread with steadfast feet
The path of thy appointing,
There waits for us a treasury of sweet
Delight, royal anointing
With oil of gladness and of strength.
--Helen Hunt Jackson
"Now it came to pass after the death of Moses,
the servant of the Lord, that the Lord spake unto
Joshua, the son of Nun, Moses' minister, saying,
Moses my servant is dead; now, therefore arise,
go over this Jordan, thou and all this people"
(Joshua 1:1-2).
Sorrow came to you yesterday, and emptied your
home. Your first impulse now is to give up, and
sit down in despair amid the wrecks of your
hopes. But you dare not do it. You are in the
line of battle, and the crisis is at hand. To
falter a moment would be to imperil some holy
interest. Other lives would be harmed by your
pausing, holy interests would suffer, should your
hands be folded. You must not linger even to
indulge your grief.
A distinguished general related this pathetic
incident of his own experience in time of war.
The general's son was a lieutenant of battery. An
assault was in progress. The father was leading
his division in a charge; as he pressed on in the
field, suddenly his eye was caught by the sight
of a dead battery-officer lying just before him.
One glance showed him it was his own son. His
fatherly impulse was to stop beside the loved
form and give vent to his grief, but the duty of
the moment demanded that he should press on in
the charge; so, quickly snatching one hot kiss
from the dead lips, he hastened away, leading his
command in the assault.
Weeping inconsolably beside a grave can never
give back love's banished treasure, nor can any
blessing come out of such sadness. Sorrow makes
deep scars; it writes its record ineffaceably on
the heart which suffers. We really never get over
our great griefs; we are never altogether the
same after we have passed through them as we were
before. Yet there is a humanizing and fertilizing
influence in sorrow which has been rightly
accepted and cheerfully borne. Indeed, they are
poor who have never suffered, and have none of
sorrow's marks upon them. The joy set before us
should shine upon our grief as the sun shines
through the clouds, glorifying them. God has so
ordered, that in pressing on in duty we shall
find the truest, richest comfort for ourselves.
Sitting down to brood over our sorrows, the
darkness deepens about us and creeps into our
heart, and our strength changes to weakness. But,
if we turn away from the gloom, and take up the
tasks and duties to which God calls us, the light
will come again, and we shall grow stronger.
--J. R. Miller
Thou knowest that through our tears
Of hasty, selfish weeping
Comes surer sin, and for our petty fears
Of loss thou hast in keeping
A greater gain than all of which we dreamed;
Thou knowest that in grasping
The bright possessions which so precious seemed
We lose them; but if, clasping
Thy faithful hand, we tread with steadfast feet
The path of thy appointing,
There waits for us a treasury of sweet
Delight, royal anointing
With oil of gladness and of strength.
--Helen Hunt Jackson
5 comments:
Magnificent. That will be seen and forwarded in a number of e-mails over the coming days, I suspect.
It's a lovely sentiment, but I have to disagree. There is a time for weeping and a time for sorrow. The lines from "Weeping inconsolably" to "...cheerfully borne" seem to me a recipe for repression.
Grief is a process that should be respected, and those grieving should be able to rend their garments and shed their tears without being "stiff-upper-lipped" by others...if the Lord doesn't want us to mourn (but notice I didn't say "wallow"), I'm surprised there is an entire book of Scripture turned over to it.
And I suspect I might be reading your post out of context...have you suffered a loss?
I would never prescribe this as the model for grief, or loss. There are, however times in my life when I am feeling the crushing sadness of a lost relationship, dream, or hope. If I were to invest myself in my sadness or grief the cost may well be too great for those that are depending on me.
I love that Jesus met Mary at her deepest point of grief when Lazarus died, and then at another time told a man to let the dead bury the dead. Different situations require different responses.
I love that you wouldn't let me get away with posting high minded ideas without making sure I'm still grounded in reality.
Okay, gotcha.
I felt bad about taking you up like that and wasn't sure it was okay for me to post that. So, Whew! thanks.
:-)
Of course it's okay! I don't expect everyone to agree with me on everything. I appreciate spirited challenge to clarify something so high-minded.
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