Blessed are those who mourn

Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted. Matthew 5:4

I've been studying the Sermon on the Mount lately, specifically the beatitudes. I've been told that the Sermon on the Mount is Christ's instructions for Christians, so I really wanted to grasp Christ's words here, wanted to fully apply them to my life. Thus, I've been making them my prayer each morning.

The first part of this passage states, "Blessed are the poor in spirit for theirs is the kingdom of Heaven." Surprisingly, this was fairly easy to pray. God's been humbling me like crazy lately (which has been hard, but crazy rewarding and another post entirely); I have at least a basic understanding of what it means to be poor in spirit. Then I began to pray the next verse: Papa, teach me to mourn for... hold up! Teach me to mourn? What kind of crazy person asks for that? What kind of person wants to be sad and depressed? Certainly not me!

Then I read the second part of the verse: for they will be comforted. Huh. Just a basic sentence, yet so profound.

When we mourn, we invite God in to comfort us, to wrap us in His loving arms and hold us close. We invite God to be intimate with us. We allow Him to work in our lives in ways that He can't when life is fine and dandy.

When I reflect on all of the times that I've felt closest to God, most of them have been during or right after times of conflict and trial. It's in these times that I learned that I can only make it on His strength, learned the depth of my need for Him. It's in these times that His love is most evident in my life. It's in these times that He whispers His truth into my ear. It's in these times that I grow.

One of my biggest fears in going to Zambia is having my heart broken. I know that I'm going to be exposed to a deeper level of poverty, disease, brokenness, and death than ever before. I know that I'm going to fall in love with these little ones the moment my eyes fall on them. I know that I'm going to weep for them, to long for a life free of worries for this precious children. Already I yearn for them to know the careful days of childhood, praying that God will give it to them despite their circumstances.
More so, I know that my heart will break when I have to leave. God's wired me in such a way that I instantly fall in love with the children that I work with. The hardest part of South Africa was leaving my noonies. I'm not one to cry regularly, but when I said goodbye to each of my little ones, I couldn't control my weeping. I wanted nothing more but to stay with them, to encourage them and love them, to show them the potential that God has given them. I want the same for my kiddos in Zambia.

Though it's harder than words can say, I'm thankful that God is breaking my heart for what breaks His. I'm thankful that He is aligning my desires with His, that He is shaping my heart to confirm to His own heart. I'm thankful that He breaks my heart for these precious little ones that I may be compelled by compassion to serve them.

Papa, teach me to mourn that I may be comforted by You and spread Your comfort throughout our world.