Sorrow to Healing

Only yesterday on one of the earliest spring days, I hiked my way into six inches of unexpected new snow. There’s nothing like it—clean, crisp whiteness. It was so fluffy it almost defied our footprints, moving to the side to let me and my buddy pass. My buddy scooped handfuls to eat—probably a teaspoon or two of water from a handful or two of snow.

What struck me most was the thought of healing. We’re in a time of great sorrow (and that’s likely always true somewhere for someone). Where’s the promised healing?

Crowder sings it best here (click to listen courtesy of Spotify).

Come out of sadness
From wherever you’ve been
Come broken hearted
Let rescue begin
Come find your mercy
Oh sinner come kneel
Earth has no sorrow
That heaven can’t heal

It was a morning of brightness and utter purity.  Heaven’s gift covered all, fed all, and brightened the world. At least that’s what I saw and will continue seeking in the days ahead—whether tough, easy, or in between.

One of my favorite thoughts comes from scripture, and it’s about my favorite person—Jesus Christ.

And he shall go forth, suffering pains and afflictions and temptations of every kind; and this that the word might be fulfilled which saith he will take upon him the pains and the sicknesses of his people. And he will take upon him death, that he may loose the bands of death which bind his people; and he will take upon him their infirmities, that his bowels may be filled with mercy, according to the flesh, that he may know according to the flesh how to succor his people according to their infirmities. (Alma 7:11-12)

The boldest thought ever may be “that he may know according to the flesh how to succor his people according to their infirmities.” Sorrow to succor. Succor is comfort. Comfort may the only healing available–today, that is. What tomorrow brings is sure to be something, as a friend of mine always says. We will know then. But for today, I’ll seek succor.

The new snow is probably gone today, replaced by green buds eager to bust out of Mother Earth and take us toward summer. Looking ahead, I see succor.