Rejoice and Weep With Others: What You Do When You Don’t Have A Clue

We drove to their house like it was on fire. And it was. Up in flames after 26 years of enjoying his face.

Held her in my arms tight as I could. That mama who just got the news. Her curly-headed boy went to sleep in Jesus.

Her head sobbing against my chest. “It’s gonna be OK,” I bravely say—because she and I both know the Truth. We’ve seen the evidence with our own questioning eyes, heard, and believed most of our lives—that Jesus saves those who cannot save themselves. Saves us now when all seems lost. 

Sitting on porch swing, “I don’t know what to do,” she says, taking a breath. Almost like she’s pleading for someone, anyone to explain what’s next. 

But she’s already doing it. 

Without realizing, she’s doing everything she can do, should do when violent storms ravage your own like a hurricane: fall into the arms of one person after another. 

And this is what the rest of us do—weep with you. Hands delivering trays of food, and we stay, share the mundane of everyday—on the worst of all days. And we pray, and pray, and pray—because when one part of the body breaks our hearts ache to bear the burden. 

“Rejoice with those who rejoice, and weep with those who weep.” (Rom 12:15)

Gone from their arms. Gone…but not far. 

Hear the reason our soul still sings in the midst of terrible things: those who die in Christ, rise. It’s not the end, friends. It’s forever from over.

We don’t grieve like those who have no hope. Believers in Jesus are reborn in one Body. It all begins right here—dying to the flesh and cleaving to the Just. The body of Christ is not made of flour, it’s sisters and brothers tarrying together. And nothing makes the Head of this family happier than knitting all His kids back together.

The Carpenter uses rubble like this to hammer and nail our hearts like His. 

She had to see the empty body of her son. Wept and bent all the way to the front. When she could finally speak, “I’m sorry” cried from her lips. Of course it did. Because mama’s take the blame from the womb to the grave. It’s in her DNA.

So we sat, wrapped arms, and told our hearts the truth. That her son’s not there. He’s alive in Christ. Her husband bowed his head—because that’s what papa’s do. They pray and beg for their wife to overcome. Carry the family on their knees and trust God to come.

Can you see God’s image? What He had in mind when creating man and wife? Interceding for the family and laying down His life? Our shame, flowing through His veins. His brave faith redeeming the day. He is why our darkest hour overflows with praise.

The Lord gives, and gives, and gives and soon He takes away. Prepare your heart, He’s coming for you. Blessed be His name.

When waves and billows go over you, and you haven’t a clue what to do. When tears are your food day and night, your soul cast down—completely poured out. When sorrow takes your legs from under you—He’ll catch you too. This is what the Body was broken to do. Fall and rise, weep and rejoice. 

No, it’s not the end. Life’s just getting started. In the twinkling of an eye this will all be over. The trumpet will sound, the dead will be raised imperishable, incorruptible, indestructible. Every cut and bruise completely erased. And this body of death will forever be changed.

“Weeping may endure for a night, but joy comes in the morning.” (Ps 30:5)