Longing

Rejoice with those who rejoice; mourn with those who mourn.

—Romans 12:15

Most of us are longing for something. Longing is part of living in the not-yet-heaven. I know people who are longing to marry, longing to be healed from disease, longing for their children to come home, longing for the financial pressure to release. I get that longing is part of how we live.

But some days I have felt angry and boxed in, like the system was rigged against me and everywhere I turned, someone else’s body was blooming with new life, while mine still, again, was not. I knew it wasn’t personal. But it feels personal on some days. When you’re afraid no one will ever love you, a friend who falls in love feels cruel. When your back is breaking under worry and fear about money, someone else’s good fortune breaks your back just a little more.

That’s why it’s hard, I think, to live out that beautiful line from the Bible and rejoice with those who rejoice and mourn with those who mourn. When you’ve got reason to rejoice, you forget what it’s like to mourn, even if you swear you never will. And when you’re mourning, the fact that someone close to you is rejoicing seems like a personal affront.