Rachel Whisman

You hear through the news about the devastating events that happen all over the world. Where suffering is thrown violently into the mix of the mundane. Churches being persecuted and believers suffering together. You see it in videos, pictures, but what happens when it strikes your own local Church? Pain being compounded through one loss after another in your local body. You question, how much more can we take? The weight lays heavy upon the shoulders of your pastors, friends, and families. Devastation and grief are intertwined from these losses that you never saw coming. The paradox of joy and suffering is compelling from afar, but to greet it at the doorsteps of your home is an unwelcoming sight. 

A sight though that is a testimony of the Lord. In the grief our Church has experienced recently, I have been encouraged by how the Lord works in the most difficult circumstances. I have witnessed needs be met through meal trains being filled up in less than a day. Homes being cleaned after an onslaught of visitors were welcomed to stay. Women gathering together to pray through scripture over the requests that have been brought up. Tears being shed together with familiar and unfamiliar faces. Medical professionals in our body, who got to take care of our members and accompany them in their grief. My pastor as he led our Church in corporate prayer with others during service and shepherding our hearts to be reminded of truth as he preached the word of God. Elders comforting and caring for the broken hearted by being present in the silence. Watching those who know each other and those who don’t join together in lifting up prayers. All overwhelmingly beautiful in the midst of such misery. My friend made a remark to me that I can not deny its validity, “It’s cool watching the Church be the Church.” 

In the pain, I know the Lord will be magnified through this. There is hope. A bright light, though dim now, ready to pierce through the ominous clouds that surround our sight. Watching the Church weep together is a ray of light. It beckons into question, “O death, where is your victory? O death, where is your sting?” (1 Corinthians 15:55). Christ’s triumph over death is our hope. He has overcome and He will lead us even “through the valley of the shadow of death.” We go through it together and He will lead us in it. The Church is His body and He promises that He will take care of her. The times have been staggering for our feeble knees, but praise be to God that He does not leave us in sorrow but is in it with us as we weep together.

“It is His office as a faithful High Priest, to consider the weak. Besides, He purchased them with blood, they are His property: He must and will care for that which cost His so dear. Then He is responsible for each lamb, bound by covenant engagement not to lose one. Moreover, they are all part of His glory and reward.

“He carries the lambs in His bosom.” Here is boundless affection. Would He put them in His bosom if He did not love them much? Here is tender nearness: so near are they, that they could not possibly be nearer. Here is hallowed familiarity: they are precious love-passages between Christ and His weak ones. Here is perfect safety: in His bosom who can hurt them? They must hurt the Shepherd first. Here is perfect rest and sweetest comfort. Surely we are not sufficiently sensible of the infinite tenderness of Jesus!”

-C.H. Spurgeon, Morning & Evening