“I hope no one who reads this book has been quite as miserable as Susan and Lucy were that night; but if you have been - if you've been up all night and cried till you have no more tears left in you - you will know that there comes in the end a sort of quietness. You feel as if nothing is ever going to happen again.” - C.S. Lewis
Do you know that moment, when all the pain you feel in your body keeps compressed into that little nugget in the back of your throat? You are lying on the floor, a bed, or something else horizontal because your legs just couldn't bear what has now been handed to a great, deep earth. Our Lord has felt that too. He wept that night in Gethsemane, he wept for his friend, he wept over Jerusalem. In a world where distraction reigns, where comfort rules, and we sweep away pain a patting "It'll be okay," or "everything happens for a reason," let's lift one up for emptiness. The soil must be tilled before the plants can grow. We've got to clear those weeds and shake up that soil so that life can be planted there. Water and sunlight is what this seed needs.
Revelation 22:4-5 They will see his face, and his name will be on their foreheads. And night will be no more. They will need no light of lamp or sun, for the Lord God will be their light, and they will reign forever and ever.
If you've ever known real emptiness then I pray you've known too, real comfort, that moment when a shoulder to cry on is the softest, firmest rock in the world with all its nestling, craggy perfection. You know when you are on that shoulder or on that breast that comfort is heavenly, that the emptiness was actually worth it, and perhaps makes this comfort more splendid. When we weep together as people we are the broken being broken before the broken, but our togetherness gives some sense of hope that something somewhere is already being fixed, and we could end there too if we can find the source of this surprising gladness we've found in each other.
Come to me, you who are weary, and I will give you rest. - Matthew 11
I am reminded of a lyric from Sufjan Stevens' Vito's Ordination Song:
And when you write a poem
I know the words,
I know the sounds
Before you write it down
When you wear your clothes
I wear them too
I wear your shoes.
And your jacket too