shadows of holiness, part one

 Rejoice with those who rejoice, weep with those who weep. --Romans 12:15

If any of you have heard stories of our eldest, you'll know she is sensitive, creative, sassy, hilarious and extremely insightful.  Just the other day, I was bemoaning: "I hate that I get our kitchen all clean, with all the dishes washed and put away.  Then I bake something and it's just..." As I paused to search for the right word, she fills in, "Back to normal?"  Twerp.
The thing is, although she often sasses me, she also is constantly teaching me, providing illustrations for how we live in faith.  If nothing else, she has an honesty that I covet and cherish (despite the sass). 
For instance, a few months ago, she wasn't feeling well.  I gave her a warm bath and as she was getting out of the bath she got sick.  As soon as she was finished, she was crying and asking me to call her daddy to let him know.  I asked her what did she want daddy to do for her (he was at work and I hoped maybe I could comfort her instead).  She said, "I just want him to know," through a face full of tears. 
How powerful is that?  "I just want someone to know what I'm experiencing."  And how comforting for those in pain, to have someone come alongside us to be present with us, present in the bottom of the pit, and say "I know."
Now, maybe I'm just nit-picky, but there are really two kinds of "I know"s.  The first is the kind that usurps the situation, it devalues the severity and preciousness of the other person's pain.  When I grieved a high-school friend, and others would say, "I know just how you feel..." it felt to me as though they were taking away from how I felt, as though this situation wasn't such a big deal after all.  Everyone grieves.  But then there were those who would sit with me as I cried and the quiet, "I know" was so powerful and comforting.    It conveys a presence in the pain and it declares that you are not alone.  There is little worse than loneliness in the midst of pain.  The point of all of this is that this is exactly who Christ is to us and for us.  He became flesh, took on human nature, experienced all that we experienced,  had the punishment and pain of the world laid upon him, and resurrected.  He offers the most powerful "I know" that exists.  And as Christians, we are commanded to love one another likewise.  To come alongside those who hurt, to not only say "I know", but to point them to the One who knows far more intimately than we ever could.  We are to be "the mask of God" in this world, to show others what He is like through our actions.  My big girl hit the cry of pain with such honesty:  We just want someone to know, to acknowledge what we experience, and to be present with us in the middle of it.  Praise be to God that we have a Lord who offers a powerful, intimate "I know."