It seems like this week has brought bad news to a lot of people. A few days ago, more about a well-loved Nashville photographer died suddenly of a heart attack, leaving behind his two young children. Another photographer I follow on facebook, a breast cancer survivor, is in the hospital right now waiting to have a biopsy to confirm what the scans are saying–that her cancer is back. Every day I feel like I see new facebook pages being created for kids in my town who have cancer. Or pages to support the families of those whose children didn’t make it. I get emails daily from activist groups asking me to sign petitions, often to support girls who have been raped and ignored, or young black men who have been murdered and their bodies forgotten.
As people of faith, it can be tempting to try to write off these tragedies with statements like, “God has a plan,” and “They’re in heaven now.” But somehow these sentences can’t meet the tremendous pain that we all feel in the face of tragedy. The only thing that truly brings me comfort in these times is the reality that God mourns with His children and that when we suffer, He suffers as well. He is the God of all compassion, a man of sorrow, familiar with pain (Isaiah 53:3). He promises that He will be victorious in the end, that He will defeat all death and pain and sorrow. And yet He still mourns with us now. Jesus, upon hearing of the death of Lazarus, says, “I am the resurrection and the life. The one who believes in me will live, even though they die; and whoever lives by believing in me will never die.” And yet He still wept at Lazarus’ tomb (John 11). Let us not forget to mourn with our brothers and sisters in times of immense sorrow–we are called to come along side them and weep, for that is what our Father is doing. For even though we know with our being that the Lord is victorious in the end, and we should hold firmly to this, the pain of this moment, of this world, deserves to be recognized. Elie Wiesel says it better than I ever could, so I’ll end with an excerpt from his book Night.