There is an Irish poet named John O’Donohue who writes blessings for many types of life experiences. In his piece “A Blessing for a Friend on the Arrival of Illness,” he says, “May you find in yourself a courageous hospitality towards what is difficult, painful, and unknown. May you use this illness as a lantern to illuminate the new qualities that will emerge in you.”
My friend Greg read this aloud at a songwriting retreat this spring, and the moment I heard it, I was moved. The poet’s words were at the same time deeply comforting and deeply provoking. Although Donohue was writing specifically of illness, his words spoke to the greater reality that each of our mortal bodies is slowly dying, yet there is wisdom and beauty to be harvested on the journey. We can use our mortality as a lantern. I don’t know about you, but I enjoy showing hospitality to others far more than I enjoy showing it to myself—especially to my fragile body.
In Psalm 103:15–16, the psalmist describes how our days are like the grass and flowers of the field that vanish. There is beauty in this fragility. But our modern culture is uncomfortable with our own mortality because we’re so removed from death—animal death, human death, even the death of our dreams. The American dream tells me I can have and do whatever my heart wants, but often what my heart wants is outside my control and slips through my fingers. It is like those grasses of the field. What endures is the life to come, our eternal inheritance that is sturdy and true and real enough to last.
Though it’s easy to admire the seemingly timeless endurance of human achievements like the great cathedrals or other wonders of the world, knowing that my own skin and bones are more susceptible to death than these is something of a paradox. How strange that these artifacts would outlive the humans who built them. But this past summer, we observed how even the grandeur of Notre Dame was not enough to protect it from being partially consumed by fire. Even what appears timeless isn’t always so.
We would be without hope if it weren’t for the promised redemption of all things. Christ is making all things new. Scripture says that “Death will be no more; grief, crying, and pain will be no more, because the previous things have passed away” (Revelation 21:4–5). The hope of new heavens and a new earth and new bodies doesn’t take away the sting of these current decaying ones, but it should relieve some of the despair attached to it.
May we show ourselves a courageous hospitality. May those deep, dark, dying places inside us reveal even deeper ways to enter into the love of Jesus, no matter what season we find ourselves in. Although the process is painful, it enlarges our understanding of God and what it means to be co-heirs with Christ and His coming, eternal kingdom. This is not all there is. Mourning will end in dancing, and death will end in life.
I’m caught in this space of mourning and dancing as well. I’m in the trenches of struggling with infertility, while my sister is due with her first baby in a few months. Today she goes in for an ultrasound, while I go in for a test to determine if I have a blockage in my fallopian tubes. I needed this scripture and message so much this morning. Thank you ♥️
Praying for you, Audra. I can only imagine how difficult this must be. Asking the Lord to provide clarity and peace for you. So grateful for you.
– Stormye
my grandmother died last night & this was the devo i woke up to do (at 4am nonetheless bc i can’t sleep bc reality is setting in). oh my how i needed this. this is the first death i’ve had to deal with in my family & as a 21 year old i’m thankful but also not sure how to go about “mourning & dancing.” this made me realize it’s okay to be happy she is walking hand in hand with our Father & for that i am oh so jealous!
Praying for you in this time of heartache. So sorry for your loss, Caroline.
– Stormye
truly that means more than you know! thank you so much (:
Praying for you and your family Caroline!
thank you, claire! it’s been a rough couple of weeks & that means so much! ((hugs))
“Someday soon, all sorrow will be joy. And in the meantime, we get to experience the complex wonder that is living.”
This statement really spoke to me. If you’ve been following my comments, you know that in the course of 22 days I lost both my father and my brother. It’s been a difficult period, but today’s devotional reminded me of something absolutely beautiful. My sweet niece, who just lost her Daddy (my brother) on March 23, also has a beautiful baby girl who just turned one on April 10 — “Mortality and life” playing out their roles right there in her life. She’s struggling, but I see God’s hand molding and shaping her through this difficult season, and it is absolutely beautiful. I’m so thankful to be able to witness this, and I’m even more thankful that God has connected her and I for such a time as this. I welcome your prayers for my whole family as we work through this. It is a difficult season, but rest assured – even though there is mourning, there is also dancing!!
Cheri, thank you so much for updating us. Continuing to pray for you and your family. Still so thankful to have you in the SRT community.
– Stormye
Well written and poignant however, inerrant in some of your theological implications. “Death” as you stated in your piece can be defeated through Jesus Christ, where this is incorrect is that Death is still very much a reality for both the believer and unbeliever, there is no escaping that truth. What you are referring to when you incorporate the scripture from revelation is a futurist perspective, so although I appreciate your attempt in remaining positive God takes people away every single day, Christian or not.
I believe the Death that is spoken of here refers to eternal Death…. that Death has already been defeated through Jesus Christ. Yes, most of us will still die a physical Death, but we can know that it is NOT the Death that eternally separates from God.
I think one of the hardest things is allowing yourself to feel your emotions to their true depth. Often times, I want to stifle my pain and sorrow and try to create artificial joy. I try to play happy music and sing along, but inside I just want to cry. But I think finding that tension of understanding that there is a time to cry and a time to dance. They may be in the same span of time in a day, but it’s important to allow yourself to feel the depths of those emotions.
Amen. Reminds me of Ted talk I watched where the woman talks about how we cannot selectively numb-by numbing the emotions we don’t want to feel we also numb emotions have happiness that we do want to feel
I love how she says she wants to mourn and she wants to dance with the mindset of the best is yet to come. My husband and I just experienced a miscarriage. It was our first baby. And as we hurt and grief privately we also cling on to hope. There are days where grief is the only thing I feel, some days dancing is all I want to do. Most days I’m in both scenes. But I’m praying that as we do walk through this season we do not forget, about the true living hope that is in our hearts.
Josefina, thank you so much for sharing. Praying for you in this time of grieving and healing. Grateful for you.
– Stormye
Love that challenge and your art!! So cool.
This past Christmas was a first for my family, as well – my aunt passed away in October, so it was our first Christmas without her and my second without my best friend, who passed away two years ago next month. Our house was full of laughter but there were glimpses of sorrow all through the day, and the complex nature of grief struck me. It’s a confusing place to be; somewhere between celebration and mourning, doing both and yet neither and all at the same time!