I shall not die, but I shall live, and recount the deeds of the LORD.
Psalm 118:17, ESV

Last summer I added a new puppy to our family. Lively and more than a little impish, Belladonna quickly discovered a miniature Japanese maple in our backyard and claimed it as her own. Despite my efforts to keep her away, Belladonna gnawed every last branch off that little tree during her months of teething. Disappointed and frustrated, I finally assembled wire netting around the scraggly-looking stump. “Life hasn’t been kind to you, little one,” I thought as I carefully staked the netting into the ground. “I don’t know if you’re going to make it.”

When I looked at that whittled-down tree, I couldn’t help but think about my own life, cut down by sorrow. After the sudden death of my husband on our family vacation, I thought my life was over too. Death had chewed me up and spit me out. All of the beauty in my life had been stripped away in one tragic moment. I was left like that little Japanese maple, barely hanging on, left only with the ugly remains of what used to be. I wonder if you’ve ever felt like that too.

We don’t have to live long before we realize that the world in which we live is a hard one. Filled with evil plans and sad disasters, it surrounds us daily with reminders of how broken everything is. We long for life and vitality, but loss and suffering can make these feel like pipe dreams. As we look at the sadness within and all around us, we too can wonder, “I don’t know if you’re going to make it.”

While the radiance of Christ shines in grand and glorious ways, just as often his light arrives in our lives when they are the darkest. His life quietly springs forth in us when we feel like we’re dead inside. Like the small burgundy leaves sprouting hesitantly again from the mangled trunk of my maple, we begin to experience new life in the Spirit’s care. The warmth of Christ’s light (Psalm 27:1) and the nourishment of his living water (John 4:14) cause us to grow again where life once seemed impossible, or at best, improbable.

I counted recently, and I’ve got fresh growth on all three of the main trunks of my little Japanese maple. As I recall my life over the last three years since my loss, I see growth there, too. Whether in our backyards or in our hearts, God’s resurrection power is working even when we can’t imagine it. Through the quiet grace of his presence and the enlivening work of his Spirit, he will enable us to sing with the psalmist, “I shall not die, but I shall live, and recount the deeds of the LORD.”

Prayer:
Dear God, you know the places in my life that feel damaged and dead. You are not afraid to join me in my pain. Repair what is broken, Lord Jesus, and bring me new life through your Spirit. Make my face radiant as I declare the good things you have done.

Dig Deeper:
Read the rest of Psalm 118 and Psalm 126.

Discussion Questions:

Where are you experiencing death in your life today?
Knowing that Jesus often moves in quiet ways to bring about new life, what small way might you declare this good work in your life?

About Clarissa Moll

Author & Podcaster

Clarissa Moll is an award-winning writer, podcaster and the author of Beyond the Darkness: A Gentle Guide for Living with Grief and Thriving after Loss. She is the cohost of Christianity Today’s “Surprised by Grief” podcast, and her writing has appeared at Christianity Today, The Gospel Coalition, RELEVANT, Christian Parenting, Modern Loss, and more. Find her on Instagram where she offers honest, soulful support for bereaved people seeking flourishing after loss.