Jesus Cares

You keep track of all my sorrows. You have collected all my tears in your bottle. You have recorded each one in your book. Psalms 56:8 NLT

We’ve seen so many tragedies on the news and on the internet this year - hurricanes, wildfires, earthquakes, and tornadoes, shootings, and bus related accidents. Some have lost their lives, others their homes and communities. Lately, things are hitting close to home for us. One of my friends has a child desperately ill. A child in our school lost his mother. No matter the storm, Jesus sees them all. He cares and “bottles our tears”, records them. Does that seem hard to imagine? We record things that are important to us. We tell the best and the worst in our private diaries. Our tears stain those recordings. Jesus also sees and feels our deepest sorrows.

I recently finished reading Blue, part of the Baker Mountain Series by Joyce Moyer Hostetter. Blue is mid grade historical fiction set in Hickory, NC during WWII. Ann Fay, a thirteen-year-old girl faces similar tragedies and joys just as we do. Her dad is drafted and is sent to fight the Germans. Her four-year-old brother contracts polio. After carrying the weight of the family while mom is away at the hospital with brother, Ann Fay also succumbs to the virus.

Hostettler’s books deal with war, illness, death, loss, race relations, and bullying. She deals with each situation realistically; the fear, the ignorance, and the hateful side, but also with faith, neighbor helping neighbor, church involvement, strangers with words of encouragement.  All those things help get us through the hard times and as Ann Fay would say “make us tough as hickory.”

Hey Kids:

Is one or both of your parents deployed to Iraq or Afghanistan?

Does someone you know have cancer or some other devastating disease?

Have you lost a classmate or family member?

Have you prayed about the situation, written about it, shed tears on the pages?

Maybe it’s time. Jesus the Great Comforter stands ready to catch your tears for His bottle, knowing and remembering your sorrow.

Blessings,

Gail