Grief

Sometimes the news comes quick. Sometimes the news comes slow. No matter how or when it comes, grief travels in the wake of the news. Grief is heavy, weighty, a burden, especially when it involves someone deeply loved. Grief is not meant to be carried alone. It’s too heavy and may last a while—and that’s ok. That’s what family and friends are for, to share the load. Jesus stood outside the tomb of his friend and wept but He did not weep alone. It was a deep, human moment. “ Blessed are those who mourn, for they shall be comforted ” (Matt 5:4). If anyone knows how we feel in grief, it’s Him. But His grief did not linger long, as at the mention of his name, Lazarus came forth. We are not meant to dwell in grief, but should leave room enough for it. Let it run its course. Like the song says, “ Every Storm Runs Out Of Rain .” Another song says, “ The storm We will dance as it breaks The storm It will give as it takes And all of our pain is washed away Don't cry or be afraid Some things...

Fog

These first few days of 2009 seem to be somewhat dreary. Long before the sun goes down, a dense fog rolls in and stays through the night. While some parts of the country are digging themselves out of recent snowfalls, we are engulfed in fog.

Fog amazes me. I remember after just having moved from New Mexico to Georgia how we thought the sun would never be seen as each day was overcast and foggy. The church I served was nearly a half-hour's drive up a mountain and each night we came home, we were slowed to nearly a crawl at times as we navigated the steep hills back down the mountain. Sometimes the fog was so thick that an oncoming car with headlights on, mind you, would remain unseen until mere feet away. Streetlamps were almost invisible, even when passing underneath them.

Driving across town, I was working on some Bible memory verses when a thought came to my mind about the nearness of God. Recall with me how in the Old Testament God dwelt in the midst of the people and made Humself known in "the cloud." The tabernacle was filled with clouds of smoke from the incense burning before the Holy of Holies. Isaiah recalls his experience when He saw the Lord, lofty and exalted, the train of His robe filling the temple--which was filled with smoke, and the whole earth is full of God's glory.

That's what struck me as I drove through town--the whole earth is full of God's glory, and the fog is a reminder that God is not distant, but so present that He is pressing in on us from every side--even touching our bones. How interesting that during the end of our Christmas season when we celebrate His becoming flesh and dwelling among us, that God through the fog (or maybe a cloudy day) reminds us that He created the day for our rejoicing in Him.

The whole earth is full of His glory!

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