The Day Sorrow Died

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“When you pass through the waters, I will be with you; And through the rivers, they shall not overflow you. When you walk through the fire, you shall not be burned, Nor shall the flame scorch you.”
Isaiah 43:1–2

What a comfort it is to know that these are the promises of our Savior, promises He wants to pour into our hearts today. Often we do not realize that even in our deepest sorrows, He is close, gently teaching us the truth of His unfailing love and care.

I have noticed, and I believe you may too, that sorrow often brings us closest to Him. When we reach the end of our own strength and understanding, we feel the urgent need to grasp hold of our Savior.

And that is exactly what happened to the man in our next Story of the Week.

My prayers are with you, and I hope your weekend is filled with quiet moments of love, peace, and the gentle joy of Christ’s presence.

By J.K. Stenger

“And God shall wipe away all tears from their eyes; and there shall be no more death, neither sorrow, nor crying, neither shall there be any more pain: for the former things are passed away.”
Revelation 21:4 KJV

Every morning brought the same curse; he hated it.

The moment he swung his legs over the bed, Sorrow grinned at him like an old, unwelcome acquaintance; familiar, unwanted and impossible to shake.

“Good morning. I’m still here,” Sorrow said in her familiar whiny voice, “… and, just so you know, I’m staying for the day again.”

He despised fellowship with Sorrow. His stomach twisted as he dreaded the hours ahead. The dark clouds of depression already clung to him like a tight jacket of misery.

His wife had left. She had taken the children with her and most likely, he would never really have them again. At best, perhaps he would see them on a Sunday, every other month. It was only a pale shadow of the life he had lost. Sorrow was now his only companion.

The worst part was, that Sorrow was actually right. It had all been his fault.

Everything had.

Had he been in his wife’s shoes, he would have left him too. He deserved it. Totally. Completely.

At first, he had still tried to blame it on her, on the situations, on the children, on anything but himself.

He came up with all kinds of reasons why he wasn’t really at fault. Some justifications were so far-fetched they were ridiculous and only proved his capacity for self-deception. And none of them ever worked.

The accusations kept coming. He was selfish, stupid, careless, and the reproaches came down on him with the force of a hammer.

He had tried to drown Sorrow out. The pub, entertainment… anything to take him away from her clutches. But she never moved. She remained steadfast and immovable like a merciless tyrant who seemed to expand with each passing day.

He didn’t want to go on living. Not like this.

The only thing that kept him sane was jogging.

Every morning, after his first struggles with Sorrow, he went for a run. Running gave him the sense he could outrun her. Out in the fresh air, her grip seemed to loosen. There, he heard the gentle twitter of birds and he breathed in the luscious scent of pine trees in the local park. Out there, he still remembered what freedom felt like.

But inevitably, he would come back and as soon as the door swung open, Sorrow claimed him once more.

So driven to escape, he laced up his running shoes every morning.

And so it was, on a grey, snowy Sunday in January that he jogged again, stretching his endurance to the limit to avoid going home.

That day, he took a different route and passed a church he had never seen before. Inside, the people were singing; joyful, hopeful, full of sincerity and power.

Just as I am, without one plea,
but that thy blood was shed for me,
and that thou bidd’st me come to thee,
O Lamb of God, I come, I come.

He stopped for a moment and listened. An unfamiliar longing for the warmth of God stirred within him. But he didn’t go inside.

He didn’t believe in God, neither had his wife. They didn’t even know how.

He lifted his eyes to the heavens and found no relief. Faith in God might sustain others, but it could not help him.

And so, he continued his run.

Further and further, until he could run no more.

He spotted a park bench and nearly collapsed, heaving and panting. Sweat dripped from his forehead. Could he even make it back home? It didn’t matter. He had no home, not really. Not as long as Sorrow dwelt with him.

He felt colder than it really was, as if the chill had seeped from within.

From somewhere, an old man drew near; a peculiar fellow with a white beard and a back bent with arthritis. What could he possibly want?

Things only got worse when the old fogey planted himself beside him, uninvited. Ridiculous. Had that man no sense of privacy?

Nobody spoke.

The old man smiled, with his eyes gentle yet unnervingly deep, as if he could see straight through him. Should he get up and leave? He was too tired, held in place as if an invisible arm had chained him to the bench, captivated by that warm, ethereal gaze.

But then, only after a few minutes, the man got up, touched his hat in farewell, smiled once more and disappeared down the path.

Strangely, the cold had disappeared from his heart. In its place lingered an unfamiliar sense of peace that calmed his nerves.

Had that old fellow done that?

Impossible.

For the first time in months, something stirred. He couldn’t explain it; it was warm, almost tangible. And then he saw it: the spot where the old man had been. Words were carved into the bench, right where the ancient one had sat.

There were words. Clear. Unmistakable. All capitals:

YOU ARE FORGIVEN

He stared at them and a deep sense of reverence and awe came over him. He had not seen those words there before. How peculiar. They had to have been there all along…

Several dark shadows welled up, trying to eliminate the wonder of the moment.

Lies … You are NOT forgiven. You’ve just been too bad.

Was that Sorrow’s attempt to keep him down?

He fought back. Sorrow didn’t belong here. He was done listening to her, tired of her constant static. He longed for the freedom he found while running.

God?

The thought hit him with a clarity he had not felt for months.

Could it be these believers were right after all, and there truly was a God?

He struggled.

Pride, fear, embarrassment; none of them likeable fellows, tried to persuade him not to listen. But he shook it off with a new determination. He had to try. If there was a chance of forgiveness he needed to take it and he knew what to do. A deep desire surged through him, unstoppable. Almost against his better judgment he rose, knowing where to go.

He needed God. He needed the song. He needed to surrender, and to know what it truly meant that he was forgiven.

And he ran, faster than ever, until he reached the church again.

His heart jumped when he heard music.

Just as I am, thou wilt receive,
wilt welcome, pardon, cleanse, relieve;
because thy promise I believe,
O Lamb of God, I come, I come.

He staggered through the door, tears streaming down his face.

Where cold had dwelt, a welcoming warmth now surrounded him.

The people kept singing. Glorifying God. Honoring the Savior.

And there, as he stumbled forward, her head turned … sat a woman. She stared straight at him and for a moment their eyes locked.

His wife. His children were sitting next to her.

At first her face registered shock, but then, ever so slightly, her expression changed.

For months he had only imagined that face with a look of judgment, but now he saw something else; there was a glimmer of grace. A smile appeared, very faint, very thin … but it was a smile of a heart that was willing to hope again.

He stared back at her in shock; tears welled up in his eyes.

“All we like sheep have gone astray,” the pastor’s words entered his ears. “But the LORD has laid on him the iniquity of us all.”

He smiled back. At least he tried. Then he moved away to an empty seat near the back. He sank down, drinking in the sacred atmosphere like a weary pilgrim at a desert spring. Hope gushed like living water, softening his hardened heart.

And then he knew. This was the day Sorrow died. A new companion was taking Sorrow’s place. Her name was Hope.

___

Hymn: Just as I am, written by Charlotte Eliott (1836)