My heart physically hurt - it felt like there was a 500 lb. weight on my chest, making it hard to breathe. I cried and cried and cried until there were no more tears. I couldn't imagine then living with that pain for the rest of my life. Before his death, I felt normal - just the right amount of full - but after he was gone I felt empty. Like the grief was eating away at me inside and leaving an empty hole where feelings used to be. I felt numb. Every day of the next few years really was just a blur. Everything was still happening, but I wasn't quite there. Sorrow and pain had filled that emptiness - but I still felt almost hollow.
In the last eleven years, I have learned this: sorrow and grief do consume you - they leave you feeling empty and incomplete - but in that process they also increase your capacity to experience joy. Anyone who belongs to Christ can experience joy (and fullness of joy) regardless of circumstances or the amount of suffering they have endured. Psalm 16:11 tells us that "in [His] presence is fullness of joy." Please don't misinterpret what I am saying here - there is no less joy for those who have not experienced death and sorrow or endured suffering. There is fullness of joy for all who are in Christ Jesus.
Although it may not seem like it during the trial, those who have endured suffering whether through the persecution of the church, through cancer, or through the loss of someone they love can still have the fullness of joy promised in Scripture! The verse does not say, "in times of feast is fullness of joy" or "in years of His favor is fullness of joy" - IN HIS PRESENCE is fullness of joy. Despite circumstances, despite sickness, despite depression or heartache or anxiety - because of His presence there is fullness of joy.
As I described before, it felt as through the grief I was experiencing was emptying me - taking away parts of me - I felt considerably less than before my father's death. I think that suffering kind of digs deeply into parts of us - leaving a void in its destructive path. But I also think that this void increases our capacity for joy. If Scripture promises that we can be filled with joy - even when we may be more empty because of circumstances - wouldn't that mean that we are capable of experiencing more joy?
Maybe I should clarify for a minute what I mean by more joy. I do not mean that God gives more blessings and favor and grace to those saints who have endured suffering. I do not mean that He gives gifts as a reward for those He has called to endure the loss of a loved one or those who He has appointed to endure cancer or those He has sovereignly chosen to endure persecution. When I talk about joy - I simply mean the joy of the Lord. The unadulterated, everlasting, overwhelming joy that we experience when we commune with the Holy Spirit and enjoy His presence in our lives not because of what He provides but because of who He is. It is this joy that suffering gives us more capacity to experience.
After enduring suffering (of any kind) we grow in a deeper appreciation for this joy that the presence of Christ offers. This certainly does not rid us of any sorrow or grief or anxiety or depression - as Spurgeon says, "Fits of depression come over the most of us. Cheerful as we may be, we must at intervals be cast down. The strong are not always vigorous, the wise are not always ready, the brave not always courageous, and the joyous not always happy." This suffering allows us to experience more joy despite the suffering itself - more vigor for the strong and more readiness for the wise and more courage for the brave and more happiness for the joyful.
When you are enduring periods of suffering (whatever it looks like) do not grow weary! Though the pain may be greater than you think is bearable and the sorrow seems like it will never cease - though you may cry until there are no tears left to produce and "though sorrow may last for the night, joy comes in the morning." (Psalm 30:5)
"I have never heard anyone say, "The deepest and rarest and most satisfying joys of my life have come in times of extended ease and earthly comfort." Nobody says that. It isn't true. What's true is what Samuel Rutherford said when he was put in the cellars of affliction: "The Great King keeps his wine there"—not in the courtyard where the sun shines. What's true is what Charles Spurgeon said: "They who dive in the sea of affliction bring up rare pearls." (Piper)
