"But not in Your kingdom, Lord."

Solitude by Ella Wheeler Wilcox

Laugh, and the world laughs with you;
Weep, and you weep alone.
For the sad old earth must borrow its mirth,
But has trouble enough of its own.

Sing, and the hills will answer;
Sigh, it is lost on the air.
The echoes bound to a joyful sound,
But shrink from voicing care.

Rejoice, and men will seek you;
Grieve, and they turn and go.
They want full measure of all your pleasure,
But they do not need your woe.

Be glad, and your friends are many;
Be sad, and you lose them all.
There are none to decline your nectared wine,
But alone you must drink life's gall.

Feast, and your halls are crowded;
Fast, and the world goes by.
Succeed and give, and it helps you live,
But no man can help you die.

There is room in the halls of pleasure
For a long and lordly train,
But one by one we must all file on
Through the narrow aisles of pain.
-----

I have always enjoyed this poem. When I first encountered it years ago, my heart resonated with its sorrowful lament and meticulously measured rhythm. I am sure you could agree that it is a beautifully written piece. One I hadn’t thought about in a very long time. But the other day, it rolled though my mind following an unexpected phone call.

The call was from a woman at my church who I had spoken to that morning; we had talked about how worn out I was, how I was struggling to regain my ability to function with very little sleep and we had commiserated about the cruelty of winter and its ability to cause long, drawn-out sickness. She had called to ask if she could bring me a meal so I wouldn’t have to worry about cooking for my family. That morning was the only time we had ever spoken (in my memory).

Then entered the poem above and it was accompanied by the articulation of a reality: ”But not in Your kingdom, Lord,” my heart said. The people of God and the Kingdom of God and the person of Jesus...they are different (or at least called to be different). God’s people are called to rejoice with the one who rejoices and to weep with the one who weeps (Romans 12:15); we are called to bear one another’s burdens (Galatians 6:2); we follow Jesus, who ate with the outcasts (Matthew 9:10-13) and knelt in the dirt with the sick (The New Testament). We are called to hop onto the "trains of pain" that others ride as they intersect with our lives.

I was comforted as I marveled at the contrast between the “world” Ella Wheeler Wilcox speaks of and the reality of those who walk in the Light of Jesus. The response I have been given in the expression of my troubles has not been one of avoidance, but instead, people have sought to help me carry my load...be it through offers to take care of my babies, cook me meals, pray, free me up for the time to sleep, etc. No one has squirmed uncomfortably when I have burst into tears at awkward times in the conversations, they haven’t told me to buck up or made me feel weak because of my obvious weaknesses. They have graciously and compassionately endured my whining, hugged me and extended their support in whatever ways they could.

Instead of my sighs being “lost on the air,” they have been answered by the genuine care of loving people. And I am thankful. I am thankful that God’s way is different that the world’s way. I am thankful for the hands that have reached out to help me and the backs that have sought to share in carrying my burden.

"Hear the angels sing"

It’s the Christmas season. While usually one of my favorite times in my Christian world, this season I feel like I have sort of let it pass me by. Not out of the typical things that distract my vision from the deity of Christ and His arrival on earth--such as busyness or focus on secular tradition--but instead, the immense physical and emotion strain I am under has pulled my gaze toward myself and my distinct desperation to survive another day; drained of energy and strength, I find myself barely able to hold myself together as I clumsily sway between fatigued and barely functional with no apparent way out.

It is a painful realization, really. To find that after almost 10 years, I still cling to myself in the trenches instead of clinging to God...Why do I have to crawl along the gravel road until my knees are torn up and my blood pours before I finally just curl up in the hand of the Lord and let Him be enough for me? How many times, how deep a hole, how sharp the ground?

But God is always gracious, not just some of the time when I might deserve it. He is always enough, not just when I’ve got something to bring to the table. He is always loving, not just when I’m lovable. And Christmas is all about that...the reality of God’s compassion, His grace, His sufficiency, His love made visible in the neatly swaddled, yet unexpected, form of the Christ child--Deity in human form; to die and bring us life. Therefore, it is fitting that the words that lift me up today and fill me with hope for tomorrow come from a Christmas carol. I have heard it a million times and yet never really listened to the words (from It Came Upon a Midnight Clear):

“And you, beneath life’s crushing load
whose forms are bending low,
who toil along the climbing way
with painful steps and slow.
Look now for glad and golden hours
come swiftly on the wing.
O rest beside the weary road,
and hear the angels sing!”

There is rest for me from what crushes, bends and pains me; there is peace for me beside the road that wearies me; there is Jesus--the glorious peace-giver, Lord and Savior and King, the bringer of goodwill. Oh that I would stop my trudging steps and listen to the angels proclaim Him, His glory and His promise; oh that my weakness would not cause me to miss the glorious sound of His proclamation and His coming; oh that my heart would not clamor to beat with any life other that the one made new by this Jesus whom we celebrate this Christmas season.

May I respond to the invitation in Matthew 11:28, “Come to Me, all you who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest.” May I join the shepherds to go and gaze upon this God/man! May I not let this season pass me by without marveling and rejoicing in the one who came to save. May I find rest beside my weary road as I tune my ears to the angels’ songs of praise. And, if my voice is released from whatever ails me, may it join those of the hosts of heaven as they pour out praise this Christmas Day.

a song from Psalm 16

©hannah mclean

in Your presence 
there is joy
of fullness is the measure
for what You show
and help me know
secures my meek endeavors
this path of life
i'll ever walk
with You always before me
my right hand firm
within Your own
lets my whole being adore Thee