By Jameson Barker
Have you ever walked through a painful season and asked, “Why, God?” Why this diagnosis? Why this struggle? Why this loss? Some suffering lasts for a moment. Others stretch across years. A few reshape the rest of our lives.
I remember when my dad was diagnosed with cancer and told he had six months to live. That news was overwhelming. It reshaped the rest of his life and ours. The man I had always seen as strong suddenly seemed fragile. By God’s grace, treatment gave us seven more years together, but those years were hard. There were hospital stays, tough talks, slow decline, and many prayers. It was a journey marked by both grief and hope, with times of both tears and joy.
In that season, I learned to lament. Lament is not faithlessness; it is honest sorrow brought before a faithful God. It is pouring out fear, confusion, and heartbreak while still clinging to trust. Psalm 22:24 reminds us that God does not despise the affliction of the afflicted. He does not hide His face. He hears when we cry to Him. Our pain does not repel Him—it draws His attentive compassion.
We see this most clearly in Jesus. In John 11:28–44, Jesus stood at Lazarus’s tomb. He knew He would raise Lazarus from the dead, yet He still wept. The Son of God was “deeply moved.” He joined Mary and Martha in their grief. He did not hurry past their sadness to perform the miracle. He felt it with them. In Matthew 11:28, He invited those who were tired and burdened to come to Him for rest. Our Savior is not far from suffering; He is with us in it.
There is something else to notice in this story: Jesus was surrounded by people. Grief is not meant to be carried alone. God often uses our affliction to shape us into means of comfort. The pain we would never choose becomes the platform from which we minister to others. Having walked through the loss of a parent, I have found that God has used that pain to help me sit with others in theirs.
But this takes humility. We need to both give comfort and accept it. This can be hard if we are against letting others in or allowing others to help us. You see, pride keeps us alone. This is exactly what Satan wants us to do because when we are alone, we are vulnerable. But God’s design is different. Faith lets others share our tears and, later, our joy.
So think about this: What pain has God allowed in your life that He now wants you to use to help someone else? Are you using that pain for His glory, or are you stuck going over the hurt? Where are you refusing help, not letting others see your weakness? Who might God want you to comfort today, and who is He sending to comfort you?
One thought on "Weeping and Rejoicing with Others"
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Day 12
Lord, I come to You knowing that I tend to keep to myself and don’t naturally step into others’ emotions.
I find it difficult to connect with what others are feeling, and often I stay at a distance rather than entering into their joy or their sorrow.
Nevertheless, I believe that You understand both my nature and what You call me toward, and that You are patient with me in it.
Help me to be more aware of others without forcing something unnatural, and give me a quiet willingness to be present when it matters.
I trust that I don’t have to change my personality to grow, but that You can shape how I respond within who I am.
I will remain open to small steps of connection, trusting that You can work even through what feels limited in me.
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