We received a text from our mother at 9:31 am on July 30th, 2020. "I think Dad died!" He died in his workshop. His death was shocking. This weekend we will gather as a family to remember him -- one year later. Dad lived life on his own terms and left deep, tender impressions on our hearts.

For you, the words may have been different, but the pain is familiar. Grief comes in waves. Sometimes it is expected and sometimes it comes out of nowhere. Some waves feel manageable, bumping us around with flashes of memory -- even bringing a soft smile to our face. Like the moment you find a picture of your loved one that reminds you of the years gone by. It is tenderly sweet and sad all at the same time. Other waves pick you up and slam you underwater, trapping you in an undertow that threatens your very next breath.

What have been the words that left your world forever altered? Your mom has Alzheimer's. Your dad has cancer. Your daughter's baby died before she took her first breath. Your husband wants a divorce.

Heartache. No one escapes it. Our experiences look different, but suffering is the human condition. A mark of our frailty. All are at risk of feeling pain.

In all this, you greatly rejoice, though now you may have had to suffer grief in all kinds of trials for a little while. These have come so that the proven genuineness of your faith—of greater worth than gold, which perishes even though refined by fire—may result in praise, glory, and honor when Jesus Christ is revealed. (1 Peter 1:6,7)

I wrestle with the scripture inviting me to rejoice in my grief. In the moment when waves of pain crash over me, the last thing I think about is rejoicing. I am more focused on breathing through the unbearable ache that comes with loss.

Consider it pure joy, my brothers and sisters, whenever you face trials of many kinds because you know that the testing of your faith produces perseverance. Let perseverance finish its work so that you may be mature and complete, not lacking anything. (James 1:3)

Phil Wickham's song, Hymn of Heaven, offers words that we can sing while being tossed by the waves of sadness. The song acknowledges our vulnerability and desperation, inviting our hearts to lean into the end of the story when death and suffering are no more. Whatever your experience with grief, whatever waves crash around you today, there is a promise waiting. The breath of Heaven is coming.

When He returns to wipe away our tears
Oh, there will be a day when all will bow before Him
There will be a day when death will be no more

Maybe there is room for hope and grief to co-exist? One that grieves and one that rejoices as we look towards a future with Jesus. It doesn't have to be an either/or option ... maybe it is a both/and journey. Not "either I grieve, or I rejoice," but "I can grieve and rejoice in my suffering." We don't have to deny our pain to prove our faith.

The songs of faith we sang through doubt and fear
In the end, we'll see that it was worth it
When He returns to wipe away our tears

Thank you, Phil Wickham, for writing music that invites our humanity to exist side by side with the heart of Heaven. This is the kind of worship we can sing with all the pieces of us -- harmonizing the places that ache and the parts that celebrate!

Hymn Of Heaven was written by Phil Wickham, from the album Hymn Of Heaven.
Tracey Dahl, M.A. is a writer and Registered Clinical Counsellor (RCC) in Langley, BC (Canada). She is married to Ryan Dahl (Founder of PraiseCharts) and the mother of four grown children.