Let love be without hypocrisy. Abhor what is evil. Cling to what is good. Be kindly affectionate to one another with brotherly love, in honor giving preference to one another; not lagging in diligence, fervent in spirit, serving the Lord;  rejoicing in hope, patient in tribulation, continuing steadfastly in prayer; distributing to the needs of the saints, given to hospitality. Bless those who persecute you; bless and do not curse.

Rejoice with those who rejoice, and weep with those who weep.

Romans 12:9-15

Friends, I love this chapter in Romans, don’t you? Cling to what is good? Yes. Love without hypocrisy? Yes. Be kindly affectionate? Yes. Weep with you? Yes, and I’ll probably bring you a casserole too.

These verses have sustained me and encouraged me for many years, and I always thought I attempted to model my actions using this scripture. Until recently. Do you know what I realized I have the hardest time doing for you?

Rejoicing with you.

Not blessing those who persecute me. Not being patient in tribulation. Not abhorring what is evil.

Nope, none of those give me as much trouble as the simple act of rejoicing with you.

Are you weeping? I can weep with you. My heart truly hurts for you. I want to reach out and help you. I want you to know I am there, praying for you, supporting you, standing next to you. I will organize a food train that stretches out for weeks. (In the South, bringing you food is our way of saying, “We love you. We are praying for you. Eat some potato salad and banana pudding and feel as close to heaven as you possibly can while still on Earth.”) I will babysit your kids, I will buy you groceries, I will take care of you.

If I can do that, then why do I have so much trouble rejoicing with you?

I’m going to honestly say, I don’t have an answer to that question. All I know is that when I see you have had a wonderful vacation with your family, when you and your husband took a weekend getaway, when your child had an excellent year in school, when you get a new car, when you get a great job (I could go on, but you get the idea), I have a really hard time rejoicing with you. Somewhere, there is a little part of me that is holding back. I’m happy for you, really. Except for that little part of me. That little part of me isn’t rejoicing at all.

Maybe it’s because I selfishly want those things for myself. Maybe it’s because I’m scared there’s only so much goodness in the world, and if you take some of it, there isn’t as much left for me. Maybe it’s because I feel like my life is not as fun as yours.

Or maybe it’s because I want you to understand.

When Hugh was diagnosed with Type 1, I felt so alone. I felt like no one could possibly understand what we were going through. I was so angry that while most moms had to worry about their child’s behavior report, or next test, or baseball game, I had to worry about keeping my child alive for the next day. There was a canyon in my heart between me and everyone else. And I stopped rejoicing with you.

I hope you understand that this was not intentional. It never occurred to me that my hurt was creating a barrier between us. I did not realize until now that I could not rejoice with you. And I hope that I’m not alone.

Dear Friends, we have a hard time rejoicing with each other, don’t we? Maybe it’s because we all have hurts and sadness and pain and we just want someone to understand. Maybe if we all shared the good and the bad, we could start to rejoice again. I don’t know about you, but I rejoice a lot easier with someone when I know where they have been, what they have endured, and how they have overcome.

When was the last time you can say you truly rejoiced with someone? There have been only a handful of times that I can recall rejoicing with pure selflessness and love. And it felt so good. It was a feeling I can only describe as God’s love filling me up and pouring out.

We were not created to be miserable, jealous people. It doesn’t feel good. And I truly love the life I have. It’s not perfect, but I am beyond happy with my home, my husband, my kids, my family, my friends, my job, my church. When I take the time to think about it, your happiness does not take away from mine. It only adds to it.

So here is my promise to you. First, I will try to say “Me too” more often. Having a really bad day? Me too. Stressed out at work and yelled at your kids because they were an easy target? Me too. Scared that sickness or death is lurking around the corner? Me too. Worried that your children aren’t going to turn out ok and you will be to blame? Me too. Had a fight with your husband? Me too.

Second, and here is the much harder one, I promise to start rejoicing with you. When you tell me about your new job or new house or great vacation, I am going to take a deep breath, push out those thoughts of selfishness and fear, and I am going to truly rejoice with you. I am going to take your hand, smile, and let that feeling of God’s love pour out of me. I might not get it right every time, but I’ll be working on it. (And I might even bring you a casserole for the happy occasion).

                             “The two most powerful words when we’re in struggle: me too.”  – Brene Brown