Living in the tension of Sorrow & Joy

Last week, my family and I were guests at Laity Lodge Family Camp at the headwaters of the Frio River in Texas. We arrived, along with 23 other families, two days after the floodwaters had brought such devastation to lives and property along the Guadalupe River.

As we dropped down into the canyon there was a palpable feeling of anxiety in our car. We had been having conversations with our children along the way about the dangers of flash flooding, the sorrow being felt by those who were impacted, and trying to encourage them that the camp we were headed to was safe. It was strange. Excitement sprinkled with apprehension. 

If you’ve never experienced an arrival at a summer camp, high energy is an understatement. Each new guest is welcomed with a blast of song, dance, and enthusiasm. Smiles. Waving arms. Counselors bouncing like Tigger from person to person, greeting and welcoming each one with exuberant joy. 

The anxiety faded in an instant.  

But as we settled in, met new families, and engaged in the fun camp activities, we noticed the atmosphere around camp had a strange tension to it. As happy as everyone was to be there, the question that kept coming up was, “Is it ok for us to be here?” 

Is it ok for us to experience goodness and joy while others are suffering and devastated? 

I had several conversations specifically around that question. In other words, can joy and sorrow coexist? Can we hold the tension between the two? Do we have permission to be joyful while grief and sorrow are just around the corner? 

My personal opinion is Yes! 

Isn’t this life? I felt like we were living in a microcosm of the greater life experience. Every day, almost every hour, joy and sorrow weave their threads through the tapestry of my soul. The shadowy news of war in a distant land is quickly brightened by the celebration of my 9-year-old’s latest feat. The happy sounds of a backyard neighborhood gathering, abruptly drowned out by the news of a neighbor losing their job. Or what about the time when I was a pastor, I spoke at a funeral in the morning and participated in a wedding in the afternoon. This is life. Sorrow and joy. Happiness and grief. 

In the book of Romans, the apostle Paul urges the church to “Rejoice with those who rejoice, weep with those who weep.” (Romans 12:15) Later in the book of 2 Corinthians he depicts the coexistence of these two opposing emotions by stating we are “sorrowful, yet always rejoicing.” (2 Cor. 6:10). 

Living in the tension of sorrow and joy is a difficult endeavor. I’d often rather just experience one at a time. But honestly, I really would prefer joy without sorrow. But that’s not life. And that was not my camp experience this past week. My heart broke for the loss of life and destruction that occurred just around the corner, while at the same time my heart celebrated as I watched my son conquer the rock wall and my daughter leap into the spring-fed waters of Blue Hole. We wept in prayer for the pain, sadness, and continued uncertainty that people are facing, yet we rejoiced as we sang about the kingdom of Jesus and His incredible love for us. 

Even though grief and sorrow have moments of commanding the room of our hearts, joy is still in the room. Even though we may weep with those who are weeping today, we have permission to rejoice with those rejoicing tomorrow. Or maybe even later on in the same day. 

This is the hope that Jesus brings to us all. He alone has the strength to hold the tension between sorrow and joy. He is the reason they can coexist. It’s His presence that brings joy. No matter how commanding grief and sorrow may be, Jesus remains in the room, which means joy remains. 

One day there will be no more sorrow or grief. One day joy will take center stage and fill every microscopic space of the room. But for now, we live in the tension.