This post came from my sister in laws blog (listed under my list of friends and family as Jaron and Michelle). I have been thinking a lot about this post. Today in sacrament meeting, my thoughts kept turning back to her insight about the story of Lazarus. I just wanted to share it.
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I don't mean this post to offend, but to help others understand. Grief is hard. It hurts mentally, physically, emotionally, and spiritually. There are not many things that can be said to a person whose heart literally feels like it is breaking. Mostly, it's a listening ear. A non-judgmental ear. No words, no testimonies, just listening. The story of Lazarus has become one of my favorites, because Christ sets such an example of mourning with those that mourn. Word comes to Christ that his friend is sick. He waits two days before he goes to his friend. This miracle was to be one that would glorify God. It was intentional. He was doing it for his disciples that they could SEE his power over death, and yet they did not quite get it. Martha comes out to greet Jesus, while Mary remains behind in the house, sitting. Martha comes to Christ and testifies to him of his glory. And he tells Martha "Thy Brother shall rise again". He gives comfort to one ready to hear, with his words, his promise of Life. Martha goes to Mary and tells her the Master calleth thee. Mary quickly came unto him. When Mary saw the Master she falls down at his feet and cries "Lord, if thou had been here my brother would not have died". I feel the hurt in her voice. The wishing that things had been different. What does Christ do in response? HE WEEPS. The Lord of all Creations, the Savior of the World, the Redeemer, the MASTER...weeps. Christ knew what he was going to do. He knew that in mere moments...not hours...not days...not a lifetime...moments, just moments, he would bring Lazarus back from the dead. He would reunite brother and sisters again. He would give joy to these women who missed their brother so dearly. He knew all of this and yet he weeps along side of Mary and Martha. To one sister he speaks of comfort, of resurrection. To the other sister, he says no words. None. No comfort to give to a woman who is lost in her suffering. The best and only thing to be done was to weep along side her. Christ knew how to succor both of these women.
Sometimes I am Martha, ready to hear words of comfort, a different picture seen by an outsider. Ready to have a heart touched by a sweet testimony of our Savior. Other times, I am Mary. My heart too broken, that earthly words can not take away my sorrow. And in those moments the best thing for my shattered heart is just validation. "I am so sorry that your heart breaks. It is understandable" "You have every right to miss your son". No testimonies, scriptures, or words of comfort. Just listening. Just hearing the hurt that pours from my heart when the way is dark with shadows and terrible memories. Weeping with those that weep. Mourning with those that Mourn. Not using words. Just as Christ comforts Mary, not with words, but tears. Tears of validation. He does not defend his position to Mary. Why he's done what he did. She'll see for herself. But she is not ready for words at that very moment.
Just because my way is dark right now, is no indication of where my testimony is. I am hurting. And that's okay. Weeping over the loss of my son, feeling the excruciating ache in my heart. It means I loved him deeply. These ugly feelings are a testimony of the LOVE that I have for my son. My little boy. A love that I would never trade, even if it means wandering in the darkness of grief for a time. The sun will shine again in my life. It's just not shining right now. And there are no words that will change that right now. Just hear my hurt.
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What an amazing example in the scriptures of mourning with those that mourn and comforting those that stand in need of comfort. I love the example the Christ gives of compassion. I love that I know that Christ suffered all things so that he could know all that we feel. He has a complete sense of compassion for us, each of us, because he did feel our hurt and our sorrow. He felt the pains we must be called to bear. Each of us are given trials. Some have years of infertility. Others may have physical ailments or hardships. For others, depression may cloud the mind. And some will lose those they love. But because Christ felt all of this, only he truly knows how to comfort us. The rest of us just try our best to help each other along the way. And while I won't have to experience all of the heartache that exists, I do hope that I can have compassion for others in whatsoever trial may encompass them. It was a beautiful post, Michelle.
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