I’ve a friend who has had a difficult year. Degenerative disease, divorce, desertion—all these have touched his family in some way. I’ve seen these things up close, all of them, but not in such a concentrated way.
When things were bad, my grandfather used to say, “My momma told him there would be days like this. She just didn’t say they would come in bunches like bananas.”
But the Psalms comfort us when hard days come in bunches. David, no stranger to sorrow, says in Psalm 56, “You [God] have kept count of my tossings.” My wife is aware when I have a restless night—but we are told that God himself keeps a record.
“Put my tears in your bottle,” David prays. “Are they not in your book?” What a potion of pain, this bottle. What a story of human frailty, this book. And yet it is more than the story of our sorrows. It is the story of our security in God:
“In God whose word I praise, in the Lord whose word I praise, in God I trust; I shall not be afraid.”
There is little more I can offer this friend. But it is enough, this Word we praise, this God who keeps our tears.
He has delivered our feet from falling, that we might “walk before God in the light of life.”
The Psalmist writes, “This I know, that God is for me.”
Yes. It is enough.