Another's Woe

A friend read one of my stories yesterday and told me that it made him tear up. I've had several people tell me that one of my stories has made him or her cry. Sometimes, I still wish I was 'the funny one' or 'the witty one', but more and more, I'm seeing why God gave me my 'gift of sadness'.

More than anything, pain is universal. And reading about another's pain draws us to them; somehow, by sharing in another's suffering, we feel bound to him or her. And sometimes, reading about pain that reminds us of ourselves helps us heal.

For Christians, this idea of being united by pain goes even deeper. 2 Corinthians 1:3-5 says, Praise be to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of compassion and the God of all comfort, who comforts us in all our troubles, so that we can comfort those in any trouble with the comfort we ourselves receive from God. For just as we share abundantly in the sufferings of Christ, so also our comfort abounds through Christ. 

Jesus knows suffering. Jesus knows comfort. He offers us comfort, so that we can offer comfort to others.

(By the way, if you've never seen the movie 'The Way', I highly recommend it. It has a rating of PG-13 for drug use, smoking, thematic elements, and some language, but the movie is not raunchy. It is about a father's pain, which leads to a journey, which leads friendship, which leads to faith and healing.) 

To close for today, here is a beautiful poem by William Blake, titled "On Another's Sorrow".

Can I see another's woe,

And not be in sorrow too?

Can I see another's grief,

And no seek for kind relief?

Can I see a falling tear,

And not feel my sorrow's share?

Can a father see his child

Weep, nor be with sorrow filled?

Can a mother sit and hear

An infant groan, an infant fear?

No, no! never can it be!

Never, never can it be!

And can He who smiles on all

Hear the wren with sorrows small,

Hear the small bird's grief and care,

Hear the woes that infants bear --

And not sit beside the next,

Pouring pity in their breast,

And not sit the cradle near,

Weeping tear on infant's tear?

And not sit both night and day,

Wiping all our tears away?

Oh no! never can it be!

Never, never can it be!

He doth give his joy to all:

He becomes an infant small,

He becomes a man of woe,

He doth feel the sorrow too.

Think not thou canst sigh a sigh,

And thy Maker is not by:

Think not thou canst weep a tear,

And thy Maker is not near.

Oh He gives to us his joy,

That our grief He may destroy:

Till our grief is fled and gone

He doth sit by us and moan.