“For with much wisdom comes much sorrow; the more knowledge, the
more grief.”
—Ecclesiastes 1:18 (NIV)
Once we have the capacity to feel
sorrow we remain indelibly connected with it. This is not about the acute
sorrow of having lost a dear one or a relationship so much, or of having been
brutally disappointed, as it’s about the generalised sorrow that we take with us in life. This is the capacity to grieve; yet
not in a besmirching way. Of course, it’s the capacity of the mature to grieve
without complaining. Yet we will all complain about sorrow. To go past
complaint is our goal.
Sorrow takes us into another realm
of existence. Her depths are cavernous. We could not have pictured going so
low. Sorrow shows us a thing or two we never knew.
But we are not necessarily cheated
by God in our experience of sorrow. No, it opens new doors; new doors of
possibility through the ancient door, Peace.
Grief and Its Avenues to Peace
This is something unexpected that
the grieving finds when they approach their grief openly. Little do they know
that such a wise response is to pay handsomely. It is an investment in their
understanding.
The initial reading of
Ecclesiastes leaves us in two minds regarding sorrow. Did we ever see such
connection between wisdom and sorrow, between knowledge and grief?
I think what the Teacher in
Ecclesiastes means is that sorrow and grief, for the wise and knowledgeable, is
no longer a threat. They have found in it a way of godly understanding. They
have found peace, yes even in unmerited sadness.
And, of course, this is a strange
peace. God hides the words from our vocabulary through which we would describe
it, for descriptions are unnecessary. It’s all about experience. It’s all about
relationship—we with God; we would ourselves. That is the gold.
Such gold always produces peace.
So whether we are having our first
bout of acute sorrow or not is irrelevant. Once sorrow has touched our lives,
and we, even simply in a few significant moments, have embraced that sorrow in God’s
name, to suffer as Jesus did on the cross and to connect with him there, we
access peace.
And if this promise is yet to be
realised in our lives we know now it is worth searching for. This peace we
speak about, once possessed in the memory, becomes part of us, as if we had
known God for the very first time—as our most important relationship.
***
Sorrow is ironical. When we take
it as openly as we can, seeking God in it, there is the door of peace opened to
us. How we feel transcends our understanding. We simply experience it. We
convert our sorrow into peace when we embrace the unremitting sadness. God
meets us there.
© 2012 S. J. Wickham.
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