He is not unable to sympathise when we grieve

This year I've been working on a big goal that I wrote about here in May last year when I was at the writer's retreat I organised, and then again in my first blog post this year. 

I took a big break in the middle of the year, but much of the rest of the year I've been trying to set aside some time on Friday mornings to think about and write chapters of a book that I'd like to see published. We'll see if publishing ends up happening, but I've discovered that if I literally write "Writing" on my calendar for a Friday morning and avoid having other meetings or outings that morning, I can usually settle down to write fairly well. However, if I don't do any of that, then I usually don't get anything done.

This morning I ended up with a 9 am meeting and I have not been able to settle to any book writing after that! But maybe I can write a blog post instead?

I'm in my 50s and have been living in Japan for about half my life! Life has changed greatly over that time, but there are still themes that keep coming back again and again. One of them is grief and loss. It's something I've written about many times here because it's something that keeps coming up. Everyone who has lived on this earth for more than a few years deals with loss and grief, but the cross-cultural life we live has a tendency to bring more of it into our daily lives than many people deal with.

I'm thinking about it at this time because a friend and colleague who has become very close in the last few years is leaving Japan permanently in February. It's a long, sad goodbye. Yesterday we had lunch together over a video call (we live on opposite sides of Tokyo), and finished with prayer for each other, and tears.

This is a reminder to me
of the time five years ago
when we had a picnic with
my friend and her family
on my birthday and she
baked me a cake :D

After our call finished I couldn't settle to my regular work. I don't know if it's true for others, but it's pretty normal that straight after a video call I can't just jump back into whatever is next on my list—especially if it is editing or a creative task like writing, and if the meeting or conversation was emotional, it's even harder. Yesterday I struggled to figure out what I could do to get myself back into the place where I could get things on my to do list done.

So, instead of ignoring the elephant in the room, I pondered grief. I looked at some of the things that I'd written about it in the past. I remembered talking to a psychologist about the grief I have accumulated over the years as I've said goodbye to many, many friends and colleagues. She mentioned the verse in Isaiah 53 that says Jesus was "acquainted with grief". So I looked that up.

I usually use the NIV version and it doesn't use those words, its translation is that Jesus "was despised and rejected by mankind, a man of suffering, and familiar with pain" (Isa. 53:3 NIV).

"Familar with pain" is the phrase they've used for "acquainted with grief".

ESV, RSV, and KJV use "a man of sorrows and acquainted with grief".

NLT "a man of sorrows, acquainted with deepest grief".

But what does "acquainted with grief" actually mean? "Acquainted" means to have personal knowledge of experience. It's stunning to think on this. Jesus knows about grief personally. 

He knew about grief before he came to earth as a man, actually, so I shouldn't be so surprised. The Old Testament tells us that God was grieved so many times by his people. One story of a conversation between Moses and God in Exodus 32 tells us how angry God was about Israel's disobedience when they made for themselves a golden calf and worshipped that instead of God.

The Lord said, “I have seen how stubborn and rebellious these people are. Now leave me alone so my fierce anger can blaze against them, and I will destroy them. Then I will make you, Moses, into a great nation.” But Moses tried to pacify the Lord his God. “O Lord!” he said. “Why are you so angry with your own people whom you brought from the land of Egypt with such great power and such a strong hand? (Ex. 11:9–10 NLT)

But we also see evidence of Jesus's grief in the New Testament. Of course when he wept at Lazarus's tomb and we know he lost John the Baptist to violent death (Matt. 14:13 says when he heard he immediately left in a boat to a remote area to be alone). But also in a larger sense we see his heart when he said "O Jerusalem, Jerusalem, the city that kills the prophets and stones God's messengers! How often I have wanted to gather your children together as a hen protects her chicks beneath her wings, but you wouldn't let me" (Matt. 23:37). Jesus also endured the pain of betrayal in Judas, something that must have been more painful because he knew it was coming?

As I pondered these things, I plucked my copy of Gentle and Lowly: The Heart of Christ for Sinners and Sufferers (by Dane Ortlund) off my bookshelf and scanned through some of the chapter titles and then text. Here are some snippets:

Whatever it means to be human (and to be human without sin), Jesus was, and is. And emotions are an essential part of being human. . . . Jesus experience the full range of emotions that we do (p. 104).

He ponders Hebrews 4:15: "For we do not have a hight priest who is unable to sympathize with our weaknesses, but one who in every respect has been tempted as we are, yet without sin" (ESV). Ortlund says:

The burden of this . . . verse is Jesus Christ's sheer solidarity with his people. . . . it is in "our weaknesses" that Jesus sympathizes with us. . . In our pain, Jesus is pained; in our suffering, he feels the suffering as his own even though it isn't—not that his invincible divinity is threatened, but in the sense that his heart is feelingly drawn into our distress." (p. 46). . . 

If you are in Christ, you have a Friend who, in your sorrow, will never lob down a pep talk from heaven. He cannot bear to hold himself at a distance. Nothing can hold him back. His heart is too bound up with yours (p. 51).

In Chapter 12 Ortlund considers again what it means for Jesus to be a tender friend. I think that was the most comforting thought in all this pondering. That, even when my close friend is no longer close, Jesus never leaves me. That my location is irrelevant in my relationship with him.

Christ's heart for us means that he will be our never-failing friend no matter what friends we do or do not enjoy on earth. He offers us a friendship that gets underneath the pain of our loneliness. While that pain does not go away, its sting is made fully bearable by the far deeper friendship of Jesus (p. 120).

None of this is especially new to me. I remember praying this in 2000, with tears, over my toddler, when we were grieving as we left Australia for the first time:

7 I can never escape from your Spirit!
I can never get away from your presence!
If I go up to heaven, you are there;
if I go down to the grave, you are there.
If I ride the wings of the morning,
if I dwell by the farthest oceans,
even there your hand will guide me,
and your strength will support me (Ps 139:7–10).

Nonetheless, we are forgetful beings, or at least I am! It's good to stop when things like this make us stumble, and remember in our hearts the truths we know in our heads.