"And now I am happy all the day!" So went the last line of the chorus of a hymn we often sang when I was growing up. I understand that the basic idea is that, as Paul reminds us in Philippians 4:4, the cross of Christ should bring joy to the believer. The fruit of the Spirit includes joy, we shouldn't forget that. But is there a place in our spirituality for sadness?

     I started thinking about that recently when I heard a brother in Christ sound almost apologetic or embarrassed for describing a totally healthy emotional state. He was sad, but he was also ashamed to be sad, worried that it was somehow unspiritual and immature of him to feel that way. I've grown tired of this mentality that I see too often among the people of God. We expect that "happy all the day" should be the norm for someone who trusts Jesus. And that works fine on good days. But when the bad days stack up, or when they hit particularly hard, is it OK to feel sad (or for that matter, angry)?

     I'll start by saying that any faith without room for sorrow is a deficient faith. But I think even that bar is too low. I would go so far as to argue that sorrow is not just to be tolerated or accommodated, sorrow is a component of spiritual maturity. We know it is psychologically unhealthy to mask our sorrow with a fake smile all the time, but I think it is also spiritually unhealthy to ignore and mask our sorrow.

     Maybe what motivates this is some false idea that the work of Jesus is complete. After all, doesn't Isaiah say of Jesus, "Surely he has borne our griefs and carried our sorrows" (Isaiah 53:4)? If he has carried our sorrows, why should we still have them? Psalm 30:5 also says, "Weeping may tarry for the night, but joy comes with the morning." Aren't we through the night and in the morning? Yes and no. Already and not yet. The saving work of Jesus is indeed finished. Sin and death are defeated. The victory of Jesus is already secured, but the application of that victory to our lives is not yet complete. It will be complete when Jesus returns and reigns forever. Until then, we have the foretaste, the first hints of the joyful morning. But we don't have the full experience yet. Now is still the night of weeping.

     Make no mistake, dear reader, I am sorrowful. Even before cancer began threatening to steal the years I had planned with my family and my ministry, I had days of sorrow - true sorrow. But now even more so. And I have shared with you in these writings how the Lord teaches me to act in gratitude, to reach out in dependence, to cling to the hope that I have. And yet sorrow doesn't just go away.  Nor should it.

     Sorrow is spiritually valuable because it tunes us in to the truth about this world. It's the only appropriate reaction to what has become of God's creation. Ecclesiastes 7:2-3 boldly tells us, "It is better to go to the house of mourning than to go to the house of feasting, for this is the end of all mankind, and the living will lay it to heart. Sorrow is better than laughter, for by sadness of face the heart is made glad." I'll leave it to the Hebrew scholars to debate the choice to translate the last word as 'glad.' The original word could also mean "right" or "fitting" or "appropriate," which makes more sense in this context. The Preacher of Ecclesiastes is saying that we're all headed towards the grave. This should make us serious. This should make us sad. And as we rightly consider our destiny, we will perhaps more rightly order our remaining days (Psalm 90:12).  Sadness makes us wise.

     One of my favorite series of sermons that we've done at my church is "Singing Our Sorrow," a study of just a few of the Psalms that put the sorrows of God's people into singable poetry. The challenge for the pastors was not how to preach on it, but rather how to narrow down which of the many possible Psalms we would choose to preach on. Sorrow is a vital part of the Christian experience. There's a whole book named after sadness (Lamentations)!

     Or perhaps look to our Savior. Jesus is described in Isaiah 53:3 as, "a man of sorrows and acquainted with grief." He stood at the tomb of Lazarus and wept (John 11:33-35). He cried over the unrepentant souls in Jerusalem (Luke 19:41-44). He cried bitterly in Gesthemene as his death drew near (Hebrews 5:7). Jesus himself was not "happy all the day."

     There's a way to have sorrow that is immature and worldly - focused on self, leading to despair.  Then there is true sorrow, holy sorrow, like what Jesus displayed.  Philosopher Nicholas Wolterstorff, meditating on the tragic death of his son, wrote "Grief is existential testimony to the worth of the one loved" (Wolterstorff, Lament for a Son, p.5)  Or in the way the rock band Switchfoot adapted the quote, "Every lament is a love song" (Switchfoot, Yesterdays).  Jesus wept because something good had been lost.  Something worth loving was marred and broken and gone.  It would be immature of us to face such losses without pain.  It would mean our capacity to love was lacking.  So sorrow is truly spiritual. It is a mark of maturity for those who see the world and human experience as God wants us to see it - meant to be beautiful, marred by sin, moving towards beauty again.

     We are encouraged by Jesus in Matthew 5:4, "Blessed are those who mourn, for they shall be comforted." Sorrow is spiritually right in a fallen world, but we won't always be in a fallen world. Sorrow is one of those attributes that we will not need or experience in God's New Heavens and Earth. But until then, until the day when every cause for pain and sadness is erased, until then it is fitting and wise to react with sorrow when facing death and pain and brokenness.

     As believers, our joy anticipates the reality to come, trusting what Christ has promised and what he has done. Our sorrow recognizes the reality that is here, looking to Christ for comfort and deliverance.  Wolterstorff, in the midst of his despair, notes that after losing his son, "Sorrow is no longer the islands but the sea" (Wolterstroff, p47).  In suh a life, joy may only be the occassional island of escape in the middle of a sorrowful life.  The hope of the Christian is that we anticipate a day when joy is the sea - vast and unbroken, deep and refreshing.  Joy eternal.  So maybe the old song is just ahead of its time. Instead of "now I am happy all the day," maybe we should sing "soon I'll be happy all the day."