"Blessed Are They That Mourn"

Many years ago while on choir tour with Spring Arbor College, my undergraduate alma mater, I had the privilege of visiting the Billy Graham Center in Wheaton, Illinois. We passed through one exhibit after another featuring the life and ministry of Billy Graham, and, although each display was truly impressive, I don't remember any of them. What I do remember is the "Walk Through the Gospel" gallery that portrays the life of Jesus Christ. This three-dimensional journey walks the tourist through scenes of Christ's crucifixion, resurrection, and ascension. I remember to this day the sense of surprise and awe I felt as I walked from the Cross to the tomb, which is nothing more than a cross-shaped hallway. The imagery makes the message palpable, as if the words of Jesus echo from the somber cross-shaped walls, "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. He that loveth his life shall lose it; and he that hateth his life in this world shall keep it unto life eternal" (John 12:24-25). Certainly, no one lived up to these words more than did Christ Himself. But the thing that is so memorable about this room is the sense that the tomb isn't a tomb at all but a gateway to eternity.

As you exit the tomb, you turn the corner into a room filled from floor to ceiling with mirrors reflecting the sky. This illusion of infinity makes you feel weightless, as if you are stepping off the earth into outer space--from time into eternity--with the glorious accompaniment of Handel's "Hallelujah Chorus." The experience is both exhilarating and disorienting, but the message is eloquent: the only entrance into this Eternity Room is the cross-shaped hall, which serves as Christ's grave. The scenery is more powerful than any of Billy Graham's sermons, for we walk the path ourselves, sensing with an understanding heart that the only way to live is to die. Our Lord Who died in our place paradoxically requires that we die His death as we live for Him, carrying our cross as living sacrifices. "Oh, no," some would say, in token gratitude for Christ's atoning death. "That sounds like salvation by works." But the Apostle Paul could truly say, "I am crucified with Christ: nevertheless I live; yet not I, but Christ lives in me: and the life which I now live in the flesh I live by the faith of the Son of God, who loved me, and gave himself for me" (Galatians 2:20).

I have thought of this room so many times in my life, and every time I have been tempted to shrink from a crucifying experience that takes more and more out of me, I remember: the grave is but a cross-shaped door. And we must walk through those cross-shaped doors if we would find the eternal life Christ promises to His own. This thought comforts me as no other, for I know that "our light affliction, which is but for a moment, works for us a far more exceeding and eternal weight of glory" (II Corinthians 4:17). Oh, heavy indeed was Christ's cross, and Simon of Cyrene stepped forth from the crowd to bear the yoke with our Lord, just as Jesus asks us to do today. And paradoxically, onlookers don't understand that the cross becomes the lighter for the carrying, unlike any other burden borne on earth. What did Jesus say, "Take my yoke upon you, and learn of me; for I am meek and lowly in heart: and you shall find rest unto your souls, for my yoke is easy, and my burden is light" (Matthew 11:29-30). This is the same Lord who said, "And fear not them which kill the body, but are not able to kill the soul: but rather fear him which is able to destroy both soul and body in hell" (Matthew 10:28). Jesus dismisses the worst in a word, yet God's Word also says, "the way of transgressors is hard" (Proverbs 13:15).

What is Jesus asking you and me to carry on our journey homeward to glory? Are we groaning and straining along the way, grieving the loss of this or that that cannot be carried along with this cross? What will we have to lay down in order to carry this cross? Or have we even without knowing laid down our cross? Oh, dear friend, troubled days are coming, and we must, as Paul said, "endure hardness, as a good soldier of Jesus Christ" (II Timothy 2:3). And yet this hardness our Lord promises to bless. My father used to tell of his grandfather of circuit riding days when he was presiding over a time of testimonies before preaching. One blowhard pulled himself to his feet after a brokenhearted woman had spoken, and he puffed, "The way of Christ isn't hard," to which my great-grandfather spat out, "Well, it must be hard because you won't take it!" Imagine those good old days where simple-hearted preachers with nerves of steel and hearts of gold told it like it was.

I don't think most of us know what the way of the cross looks like today, but some certainly do. And for those who have suffered extremely in the past two weeks in our nation, in the wake of Charlie Kirk's death, I believe Jesus would remind us of these eternal words, "Blessed are they that mourn, for they shall be comforted" (Matthew 5:4). We so often want the comfort without the mourning, but Jesus blesses the mourning as that cross-shaped door that leads to the comfort of the Eternity Room. Let us be willing to pass through all five stages of grief undaunted--denial, anger, guilt, genuine grieving, and acceptance. It is time our nation truly mourned our sins as did the prophets of old so that we might find the comfort of hearts forgiven and cleansed. When Isaiah writes, "Comfort ye, comfort ye my people, saith your God," he reminds us that "every valley shall be exalted, and every mountain and hill shall be made low: and the crooked shall be made straight, and the rough places plain: and the glory of the Lord shall be revealed, and all flesh shall see it together: for the mouth of the Lord hath spoken it" (Isaiah 40:1,4-5). Knowing our God can fix the most tangled mess is comfort indeed.

Isaiah also reminds us that the Lord measured heaven in a span, and that the nations "are as a drop of a bucket, and are counted as the small dust of the balance: behold, he takes up the isles as a very little thing" (Isaiah 40:15). How can God measure the seemingly infinite heavens in a span--the distance between the thumb and the pinky finger? But He can! Does this comfort you? It does me. Our God sees all that burdens and grieves us today, and He brings strength. After all, the word "comfort" doesn't mean "sympathy" but "with (com) strength (fort)". The battle isn't over. It's time to rally for the finish, but before we do, let's take that reprieve that orients us towards our everlasting God, for His strength comforts us as nothing else can do. "Have you not known? have you not heard, that the everlasting God, the Lord, the Creator of the ends of the earth, faints not, neither is weary? there is no searching of his understanding. He gives power to the faint; and to them that have no might he increases strength.  Even the youths shall faint and be weary, and the young men shall utterly fall: but they that wait upon the Lord shall renew their strength; they shall mount up with wings as eagles; they shall run, and not be weary; and they shall walk, and not faint" (Isaiah 40:28-31).

"Blessed are they that mourn, for they shall be comforted"--they shall be strong. Go through that cross-shaped door, my friend. The Eternity Room of the everlasting God waits for you on the other side.