When Joy Does Not Come in the Morning
By Kay Brown
It was still there. As soon as my eyes opened that next morning, I remembered. A returning, tightening fear grew from the hollow of my stomach. Much like the memory that a loved one has recently died, the intense, unwelcome sensation quickly reached and gripped my pounding heart. Swallowing, I closed my eyes and desperately tried to return to the blissful unawareness of sleep. It was futile. Racing thoughts of grief and worry consumed my mind.
The unthinkable thing was still there.
More terrifying than a nightmare, the memory I wanted to escape immediately brought fresh tears to tender, swollen eyes. Reminding me that I had not eaten properly, waves of nausea and weakness swept over my body. Within my mind, my soul and spirit seemed to be whirling; I was searching for a reason for this grand injustice. This thing was never supposed to happen! This particular thing was especially never supposed to happen to me.
But it did.
Adding insult to injury, my devoted husband had admonished me sternly that I must not share this adversity with anyone. Without benefit of counselors, our heartbreak was to be a secret, silent shame that we must somehow bear alone. I am no better a keeper of secrets than I am a bearer of shame; I knew I would suffer greatly in solitude. Hot tears continued to fall, as I wearily dragged myself out of bed.
Those first, painful hours slowly turned into days; the days turned into weeks. Raw wounds have slowly been replaced by fresh, solid, spiritual growth. God is still unequivocally good and kind. I do not allow myself to ask Him ‘Why,’ anymore, because I now expect that His tender answer will probably be a quiet ‘Trust Me.’ I have continued to trust Him. I have continued to serve Him.
I have continued to love Him.
Despite my wounds, I have seen His hand at work in me. Slicing away layers of self-confidence and vanity, the Holy Spirit has been given freedom to work in my softened, broken heart. This softening has given me a tender heart toward others in emotional pain. We are perplexed, crushed and despised; yet, we are not destroyed.
Jesus still loves us.
Lest any of us think we are above being injured by sin, that we are shielded from its consequences, or that we are promised protection from its pain, remember Jesus. His path was one of much suffering, much rejection and much isolation. If we are to follow in His steps, are we not to experience some of these things? I think we must.
God has never left me alone. He promised, “I will never leave you, I will never forsake you.” He has kept His word. As I have trusted Him despite the pain, indeed, because of it, He has repeatedly proven His mighty faithfulness. My testimony is now firmly established by the lonely path I have had to walk. I can shout with confidence, “He is surely with you in your trial, for I know He is here with me!”
The Disciples recognized Jesus after the ressurection when they saw his wounds. Those wounds are still healing people. Jesus recognizes you when he sees your wounds, and he will use them to heal many people. Wounded people are what God uses to reach other wounded people. Be ready to used by God.
I have experienced many mornings without joy, and I've also experienced the agony of waiting on God, for His time is not our time. The only thing missing is "WHAT" caused this. I know your husband forbade you to speak of it, but it leaves the reader wanting to know what and feeling frustration - for now we don't know how to offer comfort, or if your experience can somehow explain our own. Catch 22.