Jesus wept.

—John 11:35

This past Friday, I was sitting on my couch watching House of David and waiting for my sweetheart to get home when I got a phone call. It was my dad, and his voice was much deeper than normal. Something was wrong. It was going to be bad news.

The bad news was that my Pawpaw had died earlier that afternoon. It was both expected and sudden. Expected because we knew his heart was slowly failing. Sudden because it was only a couple of hours from the time they took him to the emergency room until he was gone. No time to call in the family. No time to make the drive south and say goodbye.

I hung up the phone and found myself facing an hour alone before my husband made it back from work. And the tears came. Part out of grief, part out of dread of having to face the freshest of grief alone. 

Despite my expectations, I didn’t end up spending much of that night alone. Family members called just to be present with me. My husband called when he heard, and was there to comfort me as quickly as he could. 

And the biggest surprise of all—my cousin, who lives over an hour away, was in town for the weekend. I don’t think I have the words to explain how much of a blessing this was. I had already mourned our shared grandfather with this cousin, and she knows grief more deeply than almost anyone I know. There was no other person on earth who could’ve ministered to me better that night. 

Having her there was like getting a kiss on the forehead from my Heavenly Father. It was a gift. It was a reminder that He is always with us in our grief. 

The problem of pain has been a struggle for so many people over the years. The question, “If God is so good and so powerful, how could He let this happen?” has plagued generations. But I think the question largely misses an important point. 

He doesn’t let us go through pain alone. He feels it too.

We get to see this happen at the death of Lazarus. Jesus sees the people mourning. He sees them broken and questioning why He didn’t come sooner to save them from the pain, and His response is to weep with them.

I don’t know exactly why Jesus wept. He might have wept because of Mary and Martha’s pain, or it could have been because He knew that Lazarus had suffered. Or D—all the above. But He didn’t shy away from Mary and Martha’s tears and questions. He didn’t back away because He was holy, and they were broken. He stood there with them and participated in the grief—an emotion He would never have experienced if it wasn’t for the brokenness caused by our sin. 

That amazes me. So often we say that you really get to know who your friends are when life is at its worst. We also get to know who our God is.

He is a God who never needed to know pain but created us knowing we would bring pain into the world. He’s a God who could’ve chosen to write us off when we chose to rebel, but instead, He took a step closer and became human Himself. He’s a God who could choose to ignore our pain, but willingly steps in and mourns with us.

If we were talking about another human choosing to join us in our pain, we’d probably say that person is a true friend. Since we’re talking about God, I’d say it gives new meaning to the phrase, He is the One True God. True to His Word. True to kindness and goodness He’s always shown us. True and faithful to His relationship with His children. And I am so grateful that when I get calls like I did on Friday night, I can know that my God, my Savior, is walking through that valley with me.