Every spring, I look forward to the blooming of trees and the blossoming of flowers. Not because of their beauty, though they are stunning, but because of what they represent.
Dead things coming back to life.
A fresh start.
A new bloom.
A second chance.
Time to begin again.
A glimmer of hope for even the coldest and most shriveled plants.
A curtain of comfort for those making their way out of hibernation or flying back from the yearly migration.
Monday of this week, I had a really Monday-Monday. And on the first day of May, I'm sure you know what I mean. After two electrical outages at the high school, followed by dozens of mini-crises and countless conversations, I ended the day worn and weary.
I knew other teachers were experiencing these symptoms.
I knew students suffered, though they, too, remained silent.
Depression fought tooth and nail for my concentration, but I was determined.
I would not let the darkness in.
I would not let the shadows engulf my heart.
With every ounce of strength and courage, I mustered fragmented prayers throughout the days. I said, "I can't do this, God, but with you, all things are possible." Though the storms came, I remained steadfast on the solid ground beneath my feet. And as the chaos of the day grew, I somehow gained energy and footing.
My circumstances didn't change. In fact, this crazy day only seemed to get worse. But one thing broke the light into my shattered heart, searching mind, and anxious soul: vulnerability.
Something about hearing someone else's struggles oddly makes us feel less alone. Of course, we wish they weren't hurting. It breaks our hearts to see those we love and care about suffer. But there is such beauty in knowing that a brother or sister in Christ knows what you're experiencing. They aren't judging or condemning you because somehow, their suffering validates the suffering you, too, experience. And as a teacher, this is especially impactful when it's a fellow teacher or student who shares a piece of their heart with me.
Those stories and sufferings aren't mine to share. They never will be. But what's important is that at that moment, we seek glimpses of glimmering hope together.
We look to Jesus.
We look to resources and helpmates He's blessed us with.
We look to validation and acceptance rather than condemnation and pride.
We look to vulnerability and truth, even if those confessions grieve our fearful apprehensions.
We look to grace and the merciless forgiveness lavished upon us unknowingly and undeservingly over and over again.
We look at the blooming flowers and blossoming trees. The sun peeking through the shadows for just a moment to remind us that He's still there.
"We may weep through the night, but at daybreak it will turn into shouts of ecstatic joy" (Psalm 30:5b, TPT).
Something within me stirs my heart to remember that Jesus also shared in our suffering. And that if we share in His sufferings, we will also share in His blessings.
"Instead, continue to rejoice, for you, in a measure, have shared in the sufferings of the Anointed One so that you can share in the revelation of his glory and celebrate with even greater gladness" (1 Peter 4:13, TPT)!
This shouldn't come as shocking news to us, or even as a surprise. Jesus is very clear that in this world, we will have trouble. But take heart; He has overcome the world (John 16:33, paraphrase).
Likewise, I recall that brothers and sisters in Christ can share each other's burdens by simply telling each other and providing comfort.
"Bear one another's burdens, and so fulfill the law of Christ." Galatians 6:2, ESV
Those who support one another with lifted hands, fervent hearts, and praying spirits leave no room for judgment, condemnation, and fear. They remember that they are walking the same road, even if their paths look different. They remember that their job isn't to judge but to love. Their job isn't to offer answers and solutions but to care enough to encourage, support, and lend a listening ear to those who are also suffering.
The beauty of suffering isn't visible to the human eye. It is painful and something I wish I could eradicate from the earth's surface. But the beauty is that when we suffer, we can rest knowing we suffer together. And Christ Himself knows all about suffering.
"For we do not have a high priest who is unable to sympathize with our weaknesses, but one who in every respect has been tempted as we are, yet without sin. Let us then with confidence draw near to the throne of grace, that we may receive mercy and find grace to help in time of need" (Hebrews 4:15-16, ESV).
Though the seasons come and go, the Word of my God will last forever. And that means that beyond depression, anxiety, and any sufferings I face here on this earth, something, Someone, greater is coming. Glory and pain-free living are coming. Eternal life and hope without end are coming.
"A voice says, “Cry!” And I said, “What shall I cry?” All flesh is grass, and all its beauty is like the flower of the field. The grass withers, the flower fades when the breath of the Lord blows on it; surely the people are grass. The grass withers, the flower fades, but the word of our God will stand forever" (Isaiah 6:4-8, ESV).
Today, the darkness may still linger.
Tomorrow, its presence will most likely remain.
The next few weeks, as they tumble into months and years, are beyond my control. I don't know what tomorrow holds any more than I know what stands five minutes before me.
But I rest in the peace of God, knowing that these feelings can't last forever in the presence of my God. And I'm waiting for the day when I will cross from this side of earth into the heaven of eternity. A place where sadness, pain, apathy, questions, doubt, and uncertainty will no longer cloud my vision.
"Now we see things imperfectly, like puzzling reflections in a mirror, but then we will see everything with perfect clarity. All that I know now is partial and incomplete, but then I will know everything completely, just as God now knows me completely" (1 Corinthians 13:12, NLT).
It's a place where freedom reigns, and the weary travelers make it home.
"And I heard a loud voice from heaven saying, “Behold, the tabernacle of God is with men, and He will dwell with them, and they shall be His people. God Himself will be with them and be their God. And God will wipe away every tear from their eyes; there shall be no more death, nor sorrow, nor crying. There shall be no more pain, for the former things have passed away.” Then He who sat on the throne said, “Behold, I make all things new.” And He said to me, “Write, for these words are true and faithful" (Revelation 21:3-5, NKJV).
Agape, Amber
Photo Credit: ©Pexels/Jonathan Petersson