Sadness seems to stir up our sympathy more than any other emotion. When we look on to someone else’s sorrow, it’s almost impossible not to ask, “What if that was me?”. I write this mere days after the Robb Elementary school shooting. As I watched the raw grief of one father’s loss, I started to weep involuntarily.  That poor man is now living out one of my darkest fears.

There are many wonderfully pleasant things in this world, but sadness constantly threatens to swallow them up. The clouds of death billow on the horizon, rendering happiness fleeting.

In a godless culture, the pursuit of happiness is critical. Because life is short, we must do what we can to maximise pleasure and minimise pain. We try all manner of things to suppress sadness. But as much as people try to coat themselves with a veil of happiness, sadness is ever present. We don’t want sadness to interfere with our day, and so we attempt to sanitise it from our lives.

In contrast, God’s people have long felt free to acknowledge the reality of sadness. Lament was a key feature of Israel’s liturgical pattern, as Psalm 6 represents. Lament allowed the community to express sorrow together.  Their communal expression, however, was not without hope.  Sadness didn’t amount to hopelessness as it does in our culture. The unfailing love of the Lord was always the bedrock on which their lament sat.

This is all the more true for Christians today.  Our Lord has turned his attention to his people by taking on human flesh and securing our salvation through his death and resurrection. Death is not terminal for those in Christ.  Sadness is still a reality, but it is not the end.  His unfailing love—and eternal promise—in Christ ensures our sadness will be swallowed by the comfort of his eternal glory.