And again

They that sow in tears shall reap in joy. He that goeth forth and weepeth, bearing precious seed, shall doubtless come again with rejoicing, bringing his sheaves with him. Psalm 126: 5-6

Doubtless.

This is the nature of life.  The rhythms of the seasons that God built into creation.  

Sunrise.  Sunset.  

Winter.  Summer.  

Death.  Birth.

Verily, verily, I say unto you, Except a corn of wheat fall into the ground and die, it abideth alone: but if it die, it bringeth forth much fruit.

Crucifixion. Resurrection. 

The translations tackle the “verily, verily” differently: Truly, truly; I assure you; I tell you the solemn truth; this timeless truth I speak to you; I can guarantee this truth. 

This is Jesus speaking.  If I am going to believe anything at all, even the rising and falling of the sun, then I am to believe the rejoicing, bringing in the sheaves.

His resurrection is one more demonstration.  The demonstration.  The demonstration that totally caught His followers off guard–they were absolutely shocked that He conquered death.  But this resurrection power transformed their lives from cowering in the shadows to boldly proclaiming in the streets.  

Angel’s death brought life. Somehow the mangled body of an eleven-year-old boy under a clump of dirt touched the hearts and souls of a village locked in hopelessness.  

I will never forget the wide-open eyes of Odalis as he whispered his name to me, while I was being bundled off into the nuns’ Volkswagon under machine gun guard, with only a baby and a handful of cloth diapers tucked under my arm.  

The memories: a wan Alan waiting in the police station, the tumultuous wall-shaking crowd, the embrace of a grief-stricken father, the woman who carried a bed on her back two and a half miles from Aguita, the Comite of Damnificados offering up their jar of hard-pressed coins, the healing prayer of an itinerant missionary, the longest journey ever back to the village surrounded by our neighbors, friend and foe alike; the wild drum-pounding dance of love with Nicole held up high: We will lay down our life for this child; to that night, as we lay in our little loft and considered, Are we in or are we just dabbling around the edges?

And the harvest was great, as an entire village turned their heart towards Him.

Thus, oh LORD, I am in, once again.

I offer up my tears as an offering to you.  I will sow generously along the pathways and across rocky soils and amongst the thorns and deep into the good soil.  And You, oh LORD, are the LORD of the harvest.  

May I reap in joy, rejoicing.