It’s the midpoint of my pregnancy with Son the Third. I celebrate when he kicks Son the Second — who sits on him — and stand in awe that there is a person growing inside me.
Nearby, though, dear friends grieve the loss of their unborn baby; others mourn unrealized hopes for babies not conceived.
We’re caught in the middle: the joy and the grieving, both real and both right in this world which is at once beautiful and broken.
The echoes of God’s “very good” declaration had scarcely finished before Adam and Eve were clothed in death and cast out of Eden. The flavor of the sinful fruit they took remains bitter on our tongues.
Yet all this, both joy and grief, is tempered by eternity. There is birth and there is death, but there shall be resurrection.
These good things are sweet indeed, but they are not forever, and they are just the faintest whispers of the goodness that is to come. These griefs, too, have an expiration date, when the perfect comes, the partial is done away, and God shall wipe away every tear — even these tears — from our eyes.
We who have hoped in Christ — the perfect One broken for us — have hoped not for this life only, but for life eternal which snatches death’s sting and swallows death in victory.
This is already true, though we’ve not yet tasted it. We’re in the middle still, eager for the day when all is made new and we’ll see, not just believe, that all He has made is “very good.”
Linking up belatedly with the Five Minute Friday community. This week’s prompt is middle.
©️2019 by Stacy Crouch