God with skin on

“ . . . weep with those who weep” (Romans 12:14).

Yesterday was not a great day. My first mistake was setting my foot out the door before spending time in prayer. The issues on my heart needed to be discussed with the Lord, not taken to the grocery store.

Just before going, a woman from last Sunday morning’s Bible class emailed her annoyance at being asked to read then being corrected when I thought she had the wrong verse (it was the right one, in an unfamiliar paraphrase). Soon after, a total stranger in the grocery story rebuked me for being frustrated that I couldn’t find a particular item. On the way there and home, I hit every red light, as I did on the way to meet my daughter for lunch. While my prayer list was beside me, was God saying “stop and pray” rather than pray while you go? I see it now.

When I got home, another email, this time from our daughter-in-law. It was difficult enough that one of her cousins was killed in a car accident on Sunday morning, but she had just learned that another one died the same day in another accident, about 12 miles from the first. I was numb; she is in shock.

There are times when I deeply want a God with skin on, someone who can wrap comforting arms around me and tell me He is here, in control, and it is okay to cry. I called family members, emailed our church prayer chain, called a couple friends. There would be two funerals. I wanted someone to be God for me, but they are flesh and He is Spirit.

I thought of a line from Star Wars: “There is a disturbance in the force.” For the past couple of days, I’d felt it. God wanted me to talk to Him more than usual, but I was not sure why. Today I wonder if being quicker to pray would have better prepared me for the trials of Tuesday, big and small? No doubt, yet it’s never too late. I did think about who He is and offer worship and thanksgiving, and did experience His grace and strength. The petty complaint, the grocery store rebuke, and all those red lights were prods in my flesh. A simple apology, a simpler confession, and a choice to be patient takes care of these — lest I focus on such minor matters. They could make it easy to push away the deep grief of our daughter-in-law, a grief that hard hits my spirit.

There, inside of me where God lives, is great sorrow. I don’t even know these cousins, but I know the pain of sudden loss, the pain that God felt at the death of His Son, the sorrow Jesus expressed at the tomb of Lazarus. In this, I realize that praying sooner may have prevented or lessened the pokes at my flesh, but it would not have removed the sad news of yet another death. God wants me to weep with those who weep, feel their sorrow and know their devastation — be with them. Flesh will resist that, and yesterday He allowed my flesh to be wounded (I see that now), so it would not get in the way or fight off a spiritual response.

He orchestrated it all. He wanted me open, so I would feel full bore what Shari is feeling, so I can be God with skin on for her.