Weep No More

I've been listening to a song on repeat.  Sandra Mccracken's We Will Feast in the House of Zion is a beautiful and singable song that comes from her new album based on the Psalms.  The chorus goes like this:  

We will feast in the house of Zion.  We will sing with our hearts restored.  

He has done great things, we will say together

We will feast and weep no more.  

When I was ten years old, we moved into a new house.  At the time it was a brand new subdivision and our house was only the third to be built.  For the first couple of years we'd watch as one house after another was built from the ground up.  

That wasn't the exciting part.  The exciting part was waiting to see who was going to move into the house once is was completed.  There were a few retired couples and across the way a family with a baby, but I will never forget when a particular family moved in a few houses up from us.  They had kids around my age. To be precise, the family had one cute boy around my age.    

I discovered this fact when riding my bike around the neighborhood on one particular day.  My Romeo was outside shooting baskets and I coolly and maturely began...riding circles in front of him.  

When I think back on my maneuvers to look "cool," I actually, physically twinge.  Like, what in the world was I thinking?  Riding in circles?  For the love of all things not cool.    

But it got worse.  After riding circles in front of their house, I decided that whatever I was wearing at the time was not good enough.  Though I don't recall what I had initially been wearing, I remember exactly what I changed into:  hot pink shorts with a pair of jelly sandals that I thought were pretty sweet. 

I am currently self aware and I can, with total confidence, declare that I....was a nerd.  

It was pretty bad for a few years there.  

Once I had on my new and improved outfit, I mounted the bike to do what any girl interested in a boy would do.  I began riding circles again while he shot baskets.  And it was clear pretty quickly that Romeo wasn't too interested in watching me or my bike circles, which was disturbingly confusing since I had on my jelly sandals.  

So, I devised a plan (and I am currently twinging revisiting this plan).  I decided that I was going to ride up and down the street in front of him, and every time I rode past him I'd do a "trick" on my bike.  

My tricks included what you would imagine:  spinning the bike on it's back wheel and doing a 360 after flying over a ramp.  

Nope.  

My tricks consisted of things like:  sticking one leg out whilst still peddling with the other foot and lifting one arm to wave while still holding onto the bars with the other hand.  I know, I know.  Pretty cool stuff, especially in my hot pink shorts and jellies.  

Romeo was still not giving me the attention I was craving, so I rode to the top of the hill and decided to impress him with the ultimate trick.  I was going to lift both hands in the air when I passed him and ride using only my feet.  YES.  

I got to the top of the hill and released myself, riding as fast as I possibly could.  Just before I reached Romeo's house, I lifted both hands in the air and I think (unfortunately) I let out some kind of yell. He finally turned, and just in time to see my bike hit a rock.  I failed to see the massive rock in the middle of the street because my eyes were locked on Romeo, and so I flipped right over the front of my bike.  

I'm not sure how long I was laying on the pavement before I noticed Romeo laughing.  I'm pretty sure that I realized one of my jellies was missing first.  I finally sat up and the searing pain in my right knee, which was covered in blood, finally began to register.   Jelly missing.  Romeo laughing.  Bloody knee...

I began crying relentlessly.  My bike stayed where it was and I hobbled back to the house wearing one, lonely jelly and a bruised ego.  

What happened?  I'll never forget my mom looking at me when I came into the kitchen. I mean, let's be honest, I wasn't about to divulge my plan to woo Romeo, so I simply told her, with babbling words and through ugly tears, that I fell off my bike. And I lost my jelly.   

She put her arms around me and didn't ask anymore.  I was glad because while I felt as though I could describe my bike tricks with magnificent details, I wasn't sure I would be able to relive the laughing Romeo.  So, she just let me cry.  And I cried hard for several minutes with my face pressed against her chest.  In the midst of my little storm, I found respite and peace in my mom's arms.  

I'm caught up with tears every time I hear the chorus of Sandra's song.  After some reflecting, so much of my emotion comes from the reality of what this song reminds us is to come:  

One day we will feast together - The heavenly feasting alone gets me excited (I even get giddy about what I'm going to eat for breakfast in the morning). But beyond the food...brothers and sisters in Christ from every nation will sit together and feast.  I will share a cup with those I have loved this side of heaven and as well with those whom I have struggled to love.  We will feast together and without bitterness or envy toward one another.  Our relationships will be restored and we will enjoy, with sincere and utter happiness, sitting around a table together.  I weep over this reality because from an earthly perspective I can only call it miraculous.  

We will sing together with our hearts restored - Can you imagine it?  Worship focused only on Jesus. Worship that is pure with no distractions.  Singing boldly and unashamedly to the one who has saved me.  The beauty and anticipation of this day brings tears of joy to my eyes.  

He has done great things we will say together - And I cannot WAIT for this.   There will be a day when we will be able to share with those who have gone before us, and with those whom we have never met, the great things that God has done - the ways in which He has comforted us in pain and the ways in which he lifted us up when our spirits were broken.  There are so many stories about the things God has done that I look forward to hearing.  

We will feast and weep no more - I long for this day with tears in my eyes because in a broken world, tears come readily.  But one day they will be gone forever.  I can't even imagine it.  Come quickly Lord Jesus.  

A couple of evenings ago, my dear mom spent her first night alone in her room. Now that she is in a care center, my step father sleeps elsewhere and her nurses are no longer in the room with her throughout the night.  It has been years and years since she has slept alone.  I knew she may be anxious on this night, so I  had been praying relentlessly that God would grant her a sense of peace and calm.  And it seemed things were OK when I finally fell asleep that first night.  

But then my phone rang late.  It was my mom.  She can't speak clearly anymore, so she just cried. She wept on the other end of the phone in the same kind of way I did when I stood in the kitchen, bruised and bloodied, with my face buried in her chest.  

I began crying as well.  What else was there to do?  I wished I could reach through the phone and touch her shoulders and let her know that it was going to be OK, but I couldn't.  So, I just quietly cried and listened while she wept loudly out of fear and confusion until she finally quieted down and gave into sleep.  The peace didn't come in the untangled way I had prayed for, without pain or difficulty, but life is usually messy like that.  It's in the tangled web of sin and sorrow when Grace is found in abundance.  Sometimes it's only in the storm of grief that we can recognize calming peace. 

   

But there will be a day when we will feast...and weep no more.  I pray daily that these words and the truth behind them will not sit idly in my heart, but that my spirit would know it, believe it, and live by it every single day.  There will be a day when tears are no more.  And until then I can press my face against my Father's chest and find respite and peace in His arms.  

Thank you, Sandra McCracken, for this beautiful reminder:  

We Will Feast in the House of Zion