January 27, 2025 | by Lisa Young
Sunday morning. Church. The sanctuary pulses with the bustle and hum of a family gathering: newborns and great-grandparents, first-timers and founding members, Millennials, Gen-Z, adults and teens. Many learned of Christ here, know his grace, invited others to do the same.
Our liturgy includes an open invitation to share: a reflection on scripture, a prayer request, a sacrifice of praise to him who called us out of darkness into his marvelous light. We hear of sin struggles, answered prayer, gospel opportunities, babies born.
In weekly small group gatherings, we go deeper, deeper into God’s Word and deeper into our lives. We rejoice with those who rejoice, weep with those who weep, comfort one another with the comfort with which God has comforted us.
And in our most intimate moments, we share our hidden griefs.
Unfaithful spouses. Addicted sons. Children lost in infancy. Loneliness. Barrenness. Families torn apart. Ailing parents. Dechurched friends. Siblings lost to suicide. Gender confusion. Job loss. Depression and diagnoses and disillusionment with life.
This is Adam’s legacy, the wages of sin, the sin of the one against the other and of rebellion against God. These are encounters with the last enemy and the daily stings of death. They are lesions and fractures and permanent scars. We are the walking wounded in a battle for souls.
On Sunday morning, we gather to fight and to heal. We steady our steps and fortify our souls. Like the psalmist:
“But as for me, my feet had almost slipped;
I had nearly lost my foothold…
till I entered the sanctuary of God.” (Ps. 73:2, 17)
Music rises. Chatter subsides.
There’s a call to worship, a call to arms:
“Why are you cast down, O my soul,
and why are you in turmoil within me?
Hope in God; for I shall again praise him,
my salvation and my God.” (Ps. 42:11)
Heads bow, prayers rise, eyes lift.
And then, in one death-defying act, we sing:
My hope is built on nothing less
Than Jesus’ blood and righteousness.
Together we profess the Christ, the God-man, who knows grief, knows our grief, knows us:
“Man of Sorrows!” What a name
For the Son of God, who came
Ruined sinners to reclaim:
Hallelujah, what a Savior!
Through soft-flowing tears. Through heartfelt smiles. Through raised hands, raised heads, raised hearts.
Though Satan should buffet, though trials should come,
Let this blest assurance control:
That Christ has regarded my helpless estate,
And has shed his own blood for my soul.
Through distraction, fighting to hold fast to truth. Fighting for focus. Fighting for faith.
No pow’r of hell, no scheme of man,
Can ever pluck me from His hand;
Till He returns or calls me home—
Here in the pow’r of Christ I’ll stand.
Music fades. We sit; the preacher rises.
Gospel truths resound, underscored by Scripture:
“But he was pierced for our transgressions;
he was crushed for our iniquities;
upon him was the chastisement that brought us peace,
and with his wounds we are healed.” (Is. 53:5)
Our hearts resonate. The preacher descends; we rise to respond:
Amazing love! How can it be
That Thou, my God, should die for me?
We sing the life-affirming glories of our risen Savior:
Come behold the wondrous mystery,
Slain by death, the God of life;
But no grave could e’er restrain Him –
Praise the Lord; He is alive!
We sing as one, our voice filling the sanctuary:
High King of heaven, my victory won,
May I reach heaven’s joys, O bright heaven’s Sun!
Heart of my own heart, whatever befall,
Still be my Vision, O Ruler of all.
Awash in a flood of grace, we take solace in the presence of God and his people. Like the psalmist:
“My flesh and my heart may fail,
but God is the strength of my heart
and my portion forever.” (Ps. 73:26)
In the face of heartache and despair and groanings too deep for words, quiet grief sings.
I do not know your hidden griefs. And you may not know mine. But whatever rends your heart today, whatever threatens the destruction of your soul, stand firm in the battle. Fight alongside the saints on Sunday.
And when you enter the sanctuary, sing.
Songs quoted in order:
- The Solid Rock
- Hallelujah! What a Savior!
- It Is Well with My Soul
- In Christ Alone
- And Can It Be
- Come Behold the Wondrous Mystery
- Be Thou My Vision
About Lisa Young
Lisa has worked for NETS for over 20 years, most recently as editorial director, which is her way of getting paid to play with words. She fell in love with Vermont during college and with Doug, a Vermont native, shortly after. Together they’ve raised three children and are having a blast watching their grandchildren grow up in the Green Mountain State.
Worth Writing 