Rejoice with those who rejoice, and weep
with those who weep. Romans 12:15
I
cut my theological teeth on this verse. Buried in the middle of many beautiful,
practical, challenging instructions for how to interact with others, these
words have convicted me over and over again. The idea of the last half of the
verse is generally well accepted, regardless of religious affiliation. That we
ought to weep with those who weep, to side with the oppressed, to reach out in
solidarity with those who suffer is undoubtedly an important message that is
surging through our world. I’m thankful for it. I dream, like many do, of a
world in which oppression ceases, in which kindness and generosity reign, and in
which the downtrodden are raised up. I have wept with those who weep; yet, that
is only half of the instruction.
I
have done much of my own weeping since October 19, 2017 – the day we found out
that we had lost our first baby. Many have wept with me, reaching out in
solidarity. Some reach out because they have felt the same pain. Others reach
out though they have not, yet they weep for my pain. When you lose a baby,
there are many painful things. The sight of pregnant bellies is painful.
Pregnancy announcements are painful – especially when the due date is within
weeks of your own. Baby shower invitations hurt. And, there’s the rub. In the
midst of my weeping, others are blessed with times of rejoicing. Their
announcements are not flaunting – they are simply joyful. Their changing bodies
are not flaunting – they are simply the signs of blessing. Baby showers are not
flaunting – they are opportunities for rejoicing.
I
am struck by the lack of a qualifier in Romans 12:15. The apostle Paul does not
say that we have no responsibility to weep for another in the midst of our own
rejoicing. Neither does he say that we have no responsibility to rejoice with
another in the midst of our own weeping. He simply tells us to rejoice and to weep
with others. That, I think, is where generosity comes in. To rejoice from a
place of neutral emotion costs very little. To rejoice from a place of weeping
costs much. To weep from a place of neutral emotion costs very little. To weep
from a place of rejoicing costs much. Strong relationships are forged in the
generosity of sacrifice. When God blesses one woman with a full womb and at the
same time withholds or removes that blessing from another woman, He provides an
amazing opportunity for some of the strongest bonds to form between them – if they
will each provide a generous sacrifice to the other. It will cost them both
dearly, but the rewards will be incalculable. If the rejoicing woman will
generously reach through the awkwardness she feels in the presence of weeping
to comfort and to weep with her friend (and I have a few friends whose names
come to mind who have done just this for me – thank you), she pours out a
sacrifice of love into the relationship. If the weeping woman will generously
reach through the pain she feels in the presence of rejoicing to congratulate
and provide support for her friend (I hope that my friends have felt me at
least attempt to do this, however imperfectly), she also pours out a sacrifice
of love into the relationship. The bonds between these two women strengthen
with each woman’s sacrifice, and the beauty of that friendship shines Christ’s
love and redemption to the corner of the world near them.
In
my life, I have had more lessons in reaching out of my rejoicing to weep with
others. In the last few months, I have had opportunity to learn more fully how
to reach out of my weeping to rejoice with others. It costs. It hurts. And
then, it heals. If you are weeping, you will
be tempted to withhold your rejoicing from another because of the pain. Let me
encourage you – resist that temptation. The pain doesn’t go away, but it is
made beautiful by the bonds of love. It is lessened by those who reach out to
share it with you as you share in their rejoicing. Rejoice and weep generously.
