You turn my mourning into dancing.

And hope does not disappoint, because the love of God has been poured out within our hearts through the Holy Spirit who was given to us.
Romans 5:5


i buried my "little grandfather" today, Father. though i know that he's in Your arms of love, there's still a big chunk torn from my heart. You called him home, and Your Spirit calms our minds with the promise that these wounds will heal, and that we will not suffer irreversible scars because Jesus was flayed with the griefs of being eternally separated from You, Father, on our behalf!

yet is there not a time for grief and mourning? these are wounds, after all, Father. the israelites mourned the death of moses, and my little grandpa met his own jordan river this past tuesday.

"The LORD gave and the LORD has taken away. Blessed be the name of the LORD."
Job 1:21b


Father, i thank You for my little grandpa's faith. truly You do not have grandchildren, but Your covenant has been passed down by my grandparents!

Taking my sin, my cross, my shame--rising again, I bless Your name. 
You are my all in all.


he must have seen how You were using him to demonstrate Your love to his children. he was an abel and a jacob in that You chose him to be superior, and that he presented a better life-song-offering than his brother.

When I fall down, You pick me up; when I am dry, You fill my cup.
You are my all in all.


he was an abraham, as You brought two families from him, and You called him away from his homeland to California, where You placed his destiny. he was a boaz, when he raised not one, but three of his brother's children as his very own. he was david, as he loved and sought You with all his heart--and You fulfilled that wish.

When You said, "Seek my face,"
my heart said to You, "Your face, Lord, I shall seek." 
Psalm 27:8


he imitated Jesus in his unwavering faith for his bride and the children given to him. he followed his Master's footsteps as he insisted on washing others' feet. he imitated paul in his lifelong effort to serve You, pouring out his dregs which You call sweet. this is a pleasing aroma--that we, like broken leaves, may release the grace that frees and fulfills and follows us only when we're destroyed.


Weeping may last for the night, but a shout of joy comes in the morning. 
Psalm 30:5b


My Jesus, as Thou wilt. When death itself draws nigh,
unto Thy wounded side for refuge I would fly
and, clinging to Thee, go where Thou before hast gone.
My times are in Thy hand: My Lord, Thy will be done. 
(My Jesus, As Thou Wilt. Red Hymnal #...)


And when from death I'm free, I'll sing on, I'll sing on;
And when from death I'm free, I'll sing on.
And when from death I'm free, I'll sing and joyful be,
And through eternity, I'll sing on, I'll sing on;
And through eternity, I'll sing on. 
(What Wondrous Love Is This? Red Hymnal #261)