Jesus Wept.

The past five months have been a muddle.  That’s right, a muddle.  When used as a noun it means: mess, confusion, jumble, tangle, chaos, disorder, disarray.  Muddle.  That’s where my heart has been living.  Deep down in the darkest depths of a…muddle.  It has been the type of trial that you sense coming, but could never have expected its impact.  Almost as though you’ve started your journey on a slingshot.  Even before strapping yourself down, your mind quickly identifies what the ending ramifications might be, but before you know it BLAM!  SPLAT!  Muddle.  Your mind reels to keep up with where you currently are, and as you look around you notice that every piece of you has been scattered.  You’re lost.  You find that your soul, the one that seemed so established, needs re-identifying. The heart that finally felt understood, needs reorganizing.  In that moment my friend, you just know, you have become nothing more than a muddle. 

Now the thing that has been so curious, is that my muddle is a beautiful one.  One that has brought moments of joy so intense, I’ve almost felt as though my heart would burst from the seams of my chest.  Experiences where I felt so full of gratitude, my mouth couldn’t seem to express in words the emotion that lay trapped within the walls of my soul.  Phases where I could do nothing more than weep because my elation was so irrepressible.

Beautiful muddle.  Strangest of times to survive. 

So what do you do when you find yourself within this beautiful muddle?  The one you cannot seem to budge from.  The one that keeps you strapped down so tightly, you cannot move around to pick up the shattered pieces of your heart.  And when you finally do break free, you feel too fragile to do so anyhow, so you decide to sit right back down where you were scattered.  The one that has made others loose their identification of you as well, and confused they fall away too.  And it is so tender to your heart, and so perplexing to your mind, that you don’t even know how to string the words together to explain it to them, so you just watch them as they go.  And you yearn to call out for them to linger, but you don’t, because you simply wouldn’t know what to say. 

So now you sit.  In your beautiful muddle.  All alone. 

Suddenly you feel it.  That feeling of presence.  The reassurance of hope.  That abiding, unfaltering, steadfast companionship.  The one that never leaves you, even within the darkest times.  Even within a beautiful muddle.  It is so tangible you look around on all sides, because you know without a single hesitation, that He is there.  And you just want to see Him.  Visibly.  Because His presence makes your heart desire to look upon Him, just as you used to.  So how do you sustain through your beautiful muddle?  You cling to the Lord.  That’s right, you cling.  When used as a verb it means: to be hard to part or remove from.  Cling. 

My testimony of my Savior and His ability to tenderly lift us from the depths of whatever muddle we encounter is strong.  It is unwavering.  It is absolute.  Whether it be a beautiful muddle, a bewildering muddle, or the most calamitous muddle our lives will offer, our Savior never recoils from our side.  Because He is a Lord of strength.  A Lord of peace.  A Lord of fortitude.  A Lord of comfort.  He promised us:  I will not leave you comfortless; I will come to you. (John 14:18)

The hard thing about muddles, especially beautiful muddles, is that they can be difficult for others to comprehend, especially if they have not encountered them on their own.  The heart has a hard time explaining the undertakings it withstands.  As humans we have the tendency to diminish others muddles.  We may inadvertently approach their troubles carelessly, perhaps with a “quick-to-fix” solution, or may try to help them see that their muddle is nothing more than a minor hurdle by comparing, or undermining, or lessening what they are experiencing.  We don’t do this because we lack love.  We do this because we explode with love, and we simply dislike to see people we care about in misery.  But the truth is that reducing others muddles keeps us farther from loving like the Savior.  For He never undermines or diminishes what is distressing or demanding on our hearts and souls. 

When Lazarus died, Martha and Mary were overcome with anguish.  Reading about the despair and misery of their hearts, always brings tears to my eyes.  When the Savior came to them, they rushed to Him, falling at his feet their suffering so great.  Their hearts were broken.  Now, Christ knew of the events that were to take place, for it is the exact reason He stayed away when Martha and Mary originally called for him when Lazarus became ill.  He would raise Lazarus from the dead, an example to the people of the power of faith.  He also, being of the Father, had an eternal perspective on death, much different than Martha and Mary’s ability to understand.  As He held these women who mourned for their lost brother, He could have easily, yet still tenderly, explained that all would be fine:  Do not worry.  Your pain will heal.  You will overcome.  All things He could have spoken to try to aid their suffering hearts.  All of which are accurate and true.  But He did not; no, not initially.  So what did He do?  …He groaned in the spirit, and was troubled.  Jesus wept. (John 11:34-35)  The great Savior of the world.  The Almighty.  The Omnipotent One. He did not diminish their pain and suffering, instead He wept with them. 

The solace that this story brings to my life cannot be illustrated simply.  Our Savior is tenderhearted, compassionate, concerned, and He weeps WITH us in the darkest moments of whatever muddle we find ourselves in.  He will never depart.  He will never diminish.  He knows us.  Individually.  He knows what we need to experience to make us more like Him, and entrusts us with these experiences. He will remind us perpetually of His presence as we abide them, hoping that we will but come unto Him.  And above all, He knows how to succor us.  To comfort us.  He will pick you up out of that muddle, no matter how dark and deep you may discover yourself.  He will lift you out.  He will gather the scattered pieces of your heart and bind them together again, and through His love you will be made whole. And yes, He most definitely will offer us words of hope and motivation such as: Do not worry.  Your pain will heal.  You will overcome.  But in that very moment when your grief is so overwhelming it feels as if to choke you, when your fragmented heart seems irreversible, when your sorrow descends down your cheeks, He is there.  For Jesus wept.  And weeps.     

So how do you survive that beautiful muddle.  You become hard to part or remove from.  You cling.