Wishes and Weeping

I wish that wishes on birthday candles came
true, but then a pony probably would have
appeared right after this photo was taken.

Here’s what I love: I can vividly remember my mother saying the following to me when I was wishing for designer jeans, sunny weather, or longer eyelashes.

“If wishes were fishes, we’d all have a pond-full.”

Yep, that’s me—the girl with a head full of wishes…but no fishes to speak of.

For example~

I wish I had the guts to go without make-up for the entire month of November.  #nomakeupnovember  (Who made that up anyway!?)

I wish Jonathan and Kelly lived in Nashville.

I wish I could meet Andrew Peterson.  (I’ve already met Jill Phillips—like all the time—but she doesn’t even know I’m a fan because you have to play it cool in Nashville when you meet musicians.  They're people too.)

I wish my hair would grow faster.

I wish I had time for a pedicure.

I wish I understood how 3D movies work.

I wish I were better at coupon shopping.

I wish I could hang out with my sister more often.

I wish laundry could fold itself.

I wish we could go to Disney World again.

I wish I never got zits, cramps, or headaches.

I wish Bill and I could have dinner with Tom Hanks and his wife Rita.  They seem so normal, yet so lovable.  We’d have fun.  We’d have pasta, I think.  We’d laugh a lot. 

I wish I had a talent.

I wish I could go to Paris or Israel or Cape Town, or all three!

I wish Abbey didn’t need braces because I remember that pain. 

I wish Bill were sitting next to me on this couch.

I wish I were better at answering questions on the spot.

I wish I knew how to arrange the furniture in our bonus room.

I wish we could win a big TV so I would have to buy one.

I wish I could have lunch with Diana, Julie, Michelle, and Jen.  A long lunch, not a skype lunch.  (My heart sent some tears to my eyes just thinking about it. Now I wish I had a Kleenex.)    

I wish our backyard would be automatically landscaped.

I wish I wasn’t addicted to caffeine.

I wish our garage were dry-walled inside.

I wish Ellie didn't have ALS.

I wish our alley wasn’t so junky.

I wish William would come visit us.

I wish I were finished with my Christmas shopping.

I wish I didn’t have stretch marks.

I wish Jeni’s wasn’t so fattening.

Jeni's Ice Cream--THE BEST!

I wish I rode my bike more.  (But my helmet fell behind a box in the garage and now I’m convinced it has spider eggs inside it.)

I wish I could be a better cook.

I wish we could go to New York and California and Texas more often.

I wish animals didn’t shed, yack, or poop because I’d like to get one for Alexis.

I wish I knew my multiplication facts. 

I wish Christianity wasn’t so tied up in religion and politics. 

I wish Dad didn’t die so soon.

I wish sad, senseless things like stillbirths would never happen.  I think Jesus wishes that too.  You may wonder why it happens, then.  I wish I could definitively tell you.  I wish it didn’t hurt my head so much to think through the philosophy of evil and suffering.  I wish I had all the answers.  I wish I could better articulate my belief that God is good even when the world isn’t.   But all I have is a story…and two powerful words.

The story is one of the coolest in the Bible.  Allow me to paraphrase:

A man named Lazarus was sick.  He was the brother of Martha and Mary—it was the Mary who had anointed Jesus with ointment and wiped His feet with her hair.  So, the sisters sent a message to Jesus saying: “He who you love is sick.”  But, when Jesus heard this, he stayed away two days longer because He loved Lazarus and Mary and Martha.  (Wait, what?  Why did he stay away if He loved them?!  You’ll see.)  Anyway, he stayed away, but then Lazarus dies!  And finally Jesus decides to go to Mary and Martha.  So, when Martha heard that Jesus was coming, she went to meet him, but Mary stayed at the house.  When Martha gets to Jesus, she says: “Lord, if You had been here, my brother would not have died!”    But, Jesus says: “I am the resurrection and the life; he who believes in Me will live even if he dies and everyone who lives and believes in Me will never die.  Do you believe this?  Martha answers, “Yes, Lord; I have believed that you are the Christ the Son of God.”  After she says this, she runs back and tells Mary that Jesus is asking for her.  So, Mary goes to Him and falls sobbing at His feet and says, “Lord, if You had been here, my brother would not have died!”  And when Jesus sees her crying in deep grief at the loss of her brother (and her disappointment with Jesus’ absence), He is deeply moved and troubled.  He then asks where they laid Lazarus.  They direct him to a cave with a stone lying against it.  And verse 35 tells us: “Jesus wept.”  Jesus instructs them to move the stone, but in a moment of comic relief, Martha reminds him that her brother has been dead for 4 days and that dead people tend to smell up the place.  But, Jesus responds that she will see the glory of God (which apparently gets rid of bad odors).  So, they remove the stone and Jesus raises His eyes and says  “Father, I thank You that you have heard Me.  I knew that You always hear Me; but because of these people standing around, I say it aloud so that they may believe that You sent Me.”  After He said this, Jesus cries out in a loud voice for Lazarus to come out and he does!

See, I told you it was a good story—but don’t miss the two little words: 

 

Jesus wept.

He knew what He was about to do…that the outcome would be amazingly shockingly, miraculously good.  But, He didn’t smile in some expectant way like a friend about to reveal a surprise.  He didn’t giggle knowingly or elbow Martha and say, “just wait…!”  Even though He knew they would be joyfully astonished in just a short time, he didn’t tell them to quit crying. 

Instead, He cried with them.  His heart felt the deep sadness that is brought about by the profound separation of death, and He joined them in their bitter weeping.

Right now, we are in the trying years on a broken earth under a fallen regime where death rules.  Creation is crumbling.  We are sinning.  Separation reigns.  Sadness sweeps over us with news of disturbing events, innocent suffering, and rampant evil.

Jesus knows that He is returning and will restore true life to this sick, scarred earth.

But in the meantime, Jesus cries with us.  He cries at the senseless death of a brand new baby.  He cries at the horrors and atrocities we can’t even fathom.

When our hearts cry out under the pain of loss or the confusion of suffering, Jesus doesn’t cajole us into smiling by reminding us what He can (and will) do.  He doesn’t say—“it’s all going to be okay” (even though it is).

Instead, He sits with us in our emotion.  He weeps with us.  He prays for us and He teaches us that it’s never too late.

I wish pray that you’ll feel the powerful comfort of the One who weeps with you.