A man of sorrows, acquainted with the deepest grief. (Isaiah 53:3)
For some reason, a month ago my grief had been blinding. When I was 12, I lost my mom. Then over the next 14 years I lost my grandparents who raised me after she passed away.
Years later, it’s like a retroactive tsunami of it, hitting me all at once. I miss them. Acutely. Desperately.
I always have, but lately there’s this longing to be fully known and loved again, like only your immediate family can have. There’s a bond between really wonderful parents and grandparents and their kids, and not having that is so difficult. And also, this plaguing thought… will I ever have that again? Maybe… in marriage.
I thought I was doing pretty well. That was, until these last few months. I’m not even sure why. I have a wonderful therapist/counselor who digs. And prays with me. And lets me cry. Perhaps that’s brought a lot of it up. I was too young for my mom, too worried about my grandfather after grandmie passed away, too stunned and overwhelmed after Poppie. Perhaps I didn’t have time to actually process and grieve as I needed too.
Other family situations and life situations have made me wish and long to ask Poppie, ask my mom… ask some husband I don’t yet know – their advice. Any comfort. Any answer. Just to talk it through and process life’s situations and difficulties with them.
It’s hard being alone.
But prior to writing this, Jesus reminded me that I’m not. There was a prophetic description about Him in Isaiah.
In Matthew, Mark, Luke and John, we see the Savior. We see the Redeemer. We see His miracles, and His interactions, His Kindness and His boldness. We see His sacrifice, everything that He bore. The Savior of the world, through the point of view of those who knew Him. Perhaps John the Beloved gave us an even deeper glance.
But the depth of that sacrifice – maybe not described to the fullest in the New Testament, could be found in Isaiah: “He was despised and rejected – a man of sorrows, acquainted with deepest grief. We turned our backs on Him and looked the other way. He was despised, and we did not care.” – Isaiah 53:3, NLT
There are so many versions of Scripture, but I like the NLT’s wording in this one. Deepest grief. This Savior, this perfect Messiah – God, in the flesh, was acquainted with deepest grief. A man of sorrows. Deepest grief.
God. The Author of Eternity who spoke and everything was created. He came here as a man of sorrows, acquainted with the deepest grief.
He wept at the tomb of Lazarus (John 11:35). In the Garden of Gethsemane, He was in so much anguish, that His sweat was like drops of blood (Luke 22:44).
Isaiah 53:4 also prophesizes “Yet it was our weaknesses He carried; it was our sorrows that weighed Him down.” (NLT)
The Author of Life was weighed down by our sorrows; He carried our weaknesses. My sins, our sins, crushed Him.
He saw all the grief; He bore it all. Everything that everyone would ever have to go through, He experienced it. He took it upon Himself. He understood the cost.
Not just the missing of it, but the eternity side of it. He bled and died for it, so we wouldn’t have to know the eternal cost. But He’s so rich in love that He gave us free will.
God Almighty didn’t have to come here for us. He didn’t have to come here as a humble babe, being born in a manger. He didn’t have to bear the cross and be crushed under the weight of our sorrows.
But this God, while He is far more, exceedingly and abundantly beyond anything we could ever imagine… He is love.
He is the essence of love.
He loved us so much that He sent His only begotten Son to come here, take our sins and sorrows, walk our steps, die the death we deserved, so we can have eternal life (John 3:16).
So we can know that we’re not alone. So I can have hope that, even though it’s really hard right now, my Father in Heaven is holding me through it. He bore it all. He understands, and He is so infinitely patient with me. And maybe the reason He’s allowing this retroactive grief to bubble up is so that I can heal a bit better, a bit more. So I can know Him, a bit more. My Father understands. And He loves me so much. I’m not alone.
One of my prayers is that I would be like Jesus. Something completely unachievable, but He still calls me this own.
In Christ, He reminds us that we’ll have trouble in this world, but He’s overcome it (John 16:33). He reminds us that He’ll never leave us or forsake us, because He knows there are times we’ll feel alone (Hebrews 13:5).
In Christ, He said in John 16:20, “Very truly I tell you, you will weep and mourn while the world rejoices. You will grieve, but your grief will turn into joy.”
He was preparing His disciples for what would happen to Him. Prophesying His death, in a gentle way for them. And they couldn’t understand it then.
That Friday, they could only see the grief, the weeping, and mourning.
But then, on Sunday, that weeping and mourning turned into joy when He was resurrected.
He is risen!
He came here and took our place and bore our sorrows, was crushed, pierced, and died. But He is risen, and with Him for all who accept Him, we have eternal life.
We have joy.
This world has sorrows. This world has grief.
Jesus understands. He understands more than we could ever comprehend.
But as followers of The Way, we can hold onto hope. We can have joy.
And it’s all because of Jesus.
“Now I am coming to You. I told them many things while I was with them in this world, so they would be filled with My joy. I have given them Your word. And the world hates them because they do not belong to the world, just as I do not belong to the world. I’m not asking you to take them out of the world, but to keep them safe from the evil one.” – John 17:13-15
