Day 25

I found tears as I watched the sunset tonight walking through my parents’ field. Yesterday I overheard someone say God experiences everything with us. I’ve been mulling it over and it has surprised me. God is sad right now.

I expected God to be gracious and understanding as I grieve, but not sad. It was His voice I obeyed that led me into and out of my relationship with Aaron. I did what He wanted, so wouldn’t He be happy? And He is pleased—with me—and yet something else is true. He is sad. I am sad, so He is sad. He is grieving this loss with me and feels the pain of it just as much as I do.

And somewhere… He is grieving with Aaron.

Aaron betrayed my trust. He doesn’t feel safe to my heart anymore. So the easiest thing was to turn off my love, to not miss him. And it feels like I haven’t, like a switch flipped inside. One day I was what people consider madly in love. Then there were a couple days of confusion. Then the love was just…gone. I didn’t want to see him or talk to him. I wanted a clean separation. It seemed best, healthy. And mostly I think it is. Yet tonight, sensing the Lord grieving with me, my heart cracked open just enough to realize I still care.

He’s hurting. And I, more than anyone else, know what the many facets of that pain may look like. And yet he’s gone. I can offer him no comfort. Is he okay, Abba? Is he going to be all right? Will you take care of him? I still love him. Will you comfort him? Will you touch the wounded places in his heart? For the first time I wanted to know how he was. Has he found a job, a place to live, community to help him walk this out? I invested so much in him, in understanding the inner workings of his soul, in attuning to his needs, and now there’s nothing I can do to meet them. Only God knows if I’ll ever even see him again. And so I cried. And the Lord cried with me.

Because two things are true. He orchestrated this season of our lives. Yet He never designed separation to exist. And so He grieves. He experiences our pain, and He grieves.