When Joy Is Touched with Pain

I thank Thee more that all our joy
Is touched with pain,
That shadows fall on brightest hours,
That thorns remain;
So that earth’s bliss may be our guide,
And not our chain.*

I’ve been trying to write this article for over a week now. It has been very difficult for me to write. I didn’t realize it would be, until I started it.

It’s nearly a year that I’ve been married to the love of my life. It’s also nearly a year since Mom died.

Many have asked, since our wedding, what it was like to lose Mom right before our wedding day. People wonder if, when we look back on our wedding day, we find joy or sorrow.

Receiving a question like that often feels the same as if someone were to ask if, when I eat an apple, I notice the red skin or the white meaty part of the apple. It’s simply a matter of fact that when I eat an apple, I notice both the red skin and the white meat. They’re both very much there and noticeable, but totally separate parts of the apple.

In the same way, the joy and sorrow around the time of our wedding are both very much part of my memory, yet completely separate emotions. When I look back at our wedding, I can’t help but notice Mom’s death. In the same instance I recall the great chest-swelling joy of seeing my bride walk down the aisle, I am panged with deep grief that I could not walk my Mom to her seat that same day.

The vice versa is also true. When I think of the grief and anger I felt on the day of Mom’s funeral, I also remember the ecstatic anticipation of marrying Miss Teresa Miller the next day. At the time it all was a blur; but I felt all these emotions. It’s just that for the first time in my life I felt them all deeply at the same time.

To the extent we feel true joy; we also feel pain or at least have the potential to feel pain.

When I called Teresa’s Dad up to ask if I could pursue his daughter, I opened myself up to either feeling joy (his approval and the blessing to pursue her) or pain (his disapproval). He approved far more heartily than I ever anticipated, which gave me tremendous joy. But even as my relationship with Teresa progressed and the joy was felt in deeper ways, the potential to also be deeply hurt by her grew. In fact, now that we’ve had some time living together and becoming even closer with each other, we’ve discovered we really can hurt each other. And when we do, we work through it and feel greater joy as we become more fully one as a couple.

God created joy. It’s through intimate relationship with Him that I experience my joy made fullest. He gave me marriage with Teresa. But if I begin to worship the joy I find in marriage with her, I’ve begun to “worship the creation rather than the Creator.”** The pain I feel at times in our relationship thrusts me to face the reality that I can’t find my security in her. I must find security in my Creator. If I’m looking for something to give me security, when I feel pain from her I’ll reject her and push her away. But if I truly love her, I will seek security in Christ so that I can love and lead her, as He would. When I feel pain from her, it’s a reminder she can’t give me full security—she wasn’t designed to.

For my eternal benefit, pain in the midst of my joy, is something very worthy of being grateful for.

As we near the one year mark, I’ve been looking back at pictures from things our family did a year ago. Weddings, camping trips, times of hanging out as a family—I have such good memories of each of these events. They were times of joy, delight, and “all is well in our world” sensations.

But when I look at our wedding pictures so many different emotions arise. Joy and delight—it’s my wedding!! But the memory of how tired and sullen we all were and the grief in each other’s eyes overwhelms me. I remember our family Christmas time together and being so excited to be married and having Christmas with family and wanting to have fun and be joyful—but we all were grieving more than ever the “first” that we missed Mom for.

Then, as Teresa and I set up our apartment and made it home—the time when most couples feel giddy and are still on their honeymoon high’s—I remember wanting to go and sleep life away. The pain was so strong. Tears flooded me whenever I was left alone.

Some of you have also likely had “apples” in your life where you experienced tremendous pain in a moment when you should have been or were having joy.

Even if you haven’t experienced pain at such an ironic time, you know how pain feels. Life goes along fine, then bang! Out of the blue something that deeply hurts happens and completely throws you out of balance. You wonder what the point of it was and if things will ever feel as they did earlier.

I don’t understand why God took Mom four days before my wedding. Now that our son is born, she misses that as well. I don’t understand His purposes. But I do know that I can’t place my security in anything or anyone on this world. I can pursue people. I can seek to deeply connect with my family. I can pour my heart into ministering to those God leads across my path, but I can’t place my security in them. That belongs to God. He created me. He designed me. He’s where I’ll find full security and approval. And moments of pain are moments to worship Him. Those moments are reminders to not allow the joys of this earth to dictate us, for they are incredibly shallow in comparison to the joy of relationship with Christ. And one day we’ll see Jesus. He’s the glorious Person of Heaven. He’s what we live for. He’s who we die for. Heaven isn’t about living in eternal luxury; it’s all about living in eternal fellowship with Christ.

If pain keeps my eyes fixed on Him, and if joys of this earth can sometimes distract my eyes from Him, then I really can be thankful when my joy is touched with pain.

Recommendation: If you have not read Jerry Sittser’s book, A Grace Disguised: How the Soul Grows through Loss, I highly recommend checking it out. If you have faced any kind of loss, I’m sure you will be encouraged, as I was, through reading about his journey after losing his wife, mother, and daughter all in one accident.