“For what human ill does dawn not seem to be an alleviation?”
“Weeping may remain for a night, but rejoicing comes in the morning”
–Psalm 30:5b (TNIV).
What a difference a day (or a night) makes. I can recall many a time weighed down with my woes only to pour them out sincerely to God, where amazingly he’d ‘fix’ them by morning. The soul would awaken in an entirely different state.
Sure, there are times and seasons in life where waking up to a new day doesn’t bring this miraculous sense of relief... times when it would be fair to say the ‘dark soul of the night’ lingers well into day—and then ensuing days. I’ve had these seasons. More remain.
But the generalisation fits. We have a God who’s very adept at healing our ailing, wounded hearts as much as we’re adept at crying these out to him. Indeed, it’s been my direct experience that God’s “anger lasts only a moment, but his favor lasts a lifetime” –Psalm 30:5a (TNIV). This implies, of course, that it’s been me that’s sinned, and of course that’s not always the case... oh, well, we can still see the broad truth in the faith that waits for justice to return.
Tomorrow’s often a new day. As the sun dawns on our fresh world, even as we waken, it ushers in the sense of God’s all-pervading Spirit, and an enlightenment takes place from within ourselves.
The peace we once knew and now yearned for has miraculously returned. We embrace it and harness it careful not to cling too tightly, but still we want to cherish it. It means so much, like pure oxygen, and we have at last breathing space to contemplate the once murky, but now hope-filled, future.
And so it is one of the truest blessings of God: we can yet soak our pillows in sorrowful tears; yet, to our gob-smacked thrill, God has the final word as joy and peace beckon once again.
© S. J. Wickham, 2009.