Tonight I "sorrowed". I mean I really let it all out.
I am sad, as betrayed by my red eyes and stuffy nose.
Close to 2000 years ago a man among men died willingly on a cross, bearing the transgressions of the world. He was a man of sorrows, the ultimate sacrifice, and the King of Kings.
Bearing the cross was not easy for Him. Death was not quick, or painless, or simple. That day was bloody and wretched. The skies darkened, much like the hearts of those He died to save. The temple veil was torn, and that which separated the world from God's presence fell to the wayside. It was finished.
In light of that, as God makes me more like Jesus with great patience and grace, I shouldn't wonder at why dying to myself is so painful. I shouldn't wonder at God asking me to give things up...things that are good...for His name's sake. Jesus gave up His very life for the glory of the Father and the redemption of souls. What God asks of me pales in comparison...and yet it still hurts. In a way, I mourn those things, and in my weakness I wonder if its worth it.
Is it worth being single?
Is it worth going overseas?
Is it worth leaving my beloved Asheville for school?
Is it worth building up treasures in heaven instead of on earth?
These are real questions I ask and stumble over and fumble over in my head.
And still, despite the pain of the sacrifice, by grace I take up my cross and follow Him. And He reminds me of a few things. He reminds me that through the cross Jesus found great reward and full satisfaction and the fullness of life. He reminds me that death is what brought Jesus back to the Father. He reminds me that His plans are good even when the goodness disappears behind sorrow. He reminds me that His love endures forever. He reminds me that its going to be worth it.
And so, in sacrifice, hope remains. In sacrifice, grace remains, and I keep walking.