Jesus saw that they wanted to ask him about this, so he said to them, “Are you asking one another what I meant when I said, ‘In a little while you will see me no more, and then after a little while you will see me’? Very truly I tell you, you will weep and mourn while the world rejoices. You will grieve, but your grief will turn to joy. A woman giving birth to a child has pain because her time has come; but when her baby is born she forgets the anguish because of her joy that a child is born into the world. So with you: Now is your time of grief, but I will see you again and you will rejoice, and no one will take away your joy. In that day you will no longer ask me anything. Very truly I tell you, my Father will give you whatever you ask in my name. Until now you have not asked for anything in my name. Ask and you will receive, and your joy will be complete. “Though I have been speaking figuratively, a time is coming when I will no longer use this kind of language but will tell you plainly about my Father. In that day you will ask in my name. I am not saying that I will ask the Father on your behalf. No, the Father himself loves you because you have loved me and have believed that I came from God. I came from the Father and entered the world; now I am leaving the world and going back to the Father.”
—John 16:19-28

~~~~~

From Sorrow to Joy
By Jennifer Kane

He looked at them—
at us—
and said plainly,
“I must go.”

Not in riddles,
not in softened words.
Just truth,
like a wind that shakes the branches.

And sorrow—whelming sorrow,
rose like a tide we could not hold back.
Even if we didn’t say it,
He knew.
He always knows.

Grief that lived in the chest,
tight and wordless.
The ache of being left,
even by love.

But He didn’t rebuke the silence.
He named the pain.
He saw the breaking hearts
and promised something more.

“I will send the Advocate,”
He said.
Not a distant comfort,
but God’s own breath,
with us,
in us—
a Helper who would not leave,
who would teach,
who would remind,
who would guide
through every dark hallway.

Our sorrow
was not the end.

Like a mother writhing in birth,
not knowing how she will bear another breath,
we strained—
but something was coming.
Joy.

Not a replacement,
but a resurrection.

He would be gone—
yet closer than ever.
Our grief
would become the doorway
to gladness
we never imagined.

And still He said,
“In this world you will have trouble.”
Not might.
Not maybe.
Will.

But—
take heart.
Take courage.
Take this flicker of flame
and hold it close—

“I have overcome the world.”

The sorrow we feel
is known.
The tears we cry
are counted.
The Spirit we are given
will stay.
And the victory
is already His.

~~~~~

Scripture: John 16:1-33

Jesus is preparing His disciples for His departure—His suffering, death, resurrection, and ascension. He knows they do not fully understand, and He doesn’t rebuke their confusion or sorrow. Instead, He names it.

“Sorrow has filled your heart,” He says. Not, “Why aren’t you rejoicing?” or “Why don’t you understand yet?”

He doesn’t demand their outward expression of grief—He simply knows it’s there.

In Greek, the word “lupe” conveys not only sorrow but internal suffering—anguish that often remains hidden. Jesus, in His compassion, puts words to what they cannot express. He acknowledges their quiet pain, their aching confusion, their disappointment.

And then He promises: “Your sorrow will turn into joy.” (John 16:20)

This is not a hollow encouragement. It’s a deep assurance from the One who Himself would suffer the ultimate grief to bring us hope.

Jesus compares the disciples’ coming anguish to childbirth—intense pain that transforms into joy because new life is born (John 16:21). Pain doesn’t vanish—it gives birth to joy.

He is not dismissing sorrow—He is transforming it.

We often carry hidden grief—pain others don’t see or we’re afraid to show. Like the disciples, we may feel sorrowed by loss, unanswered questions, or moments when Jesus feels distant.

But the Lord sees what others don’t. He names our grief. And in time, He promises transformation—not only comfort but joy.

Do you feel sorrowful today? Even if no one else knows, Jesus does.

He is with you in it, and He is leading you through it—toward joy.

Take a quiet moment today to journal what sorrow you are carrying. Let Jesus name it with you. Then, ask Him to show you what joy might be born from this season. Even if you don’t feel it yet—write your hope by faith.

~~~~~

Lord Jesus, Thank You for seeing the sorrow that others miss. You are tender with my pain, even when I hide it. Help me to trust that You are with me in the middle of grief—and that You are turning my sorrow into joy. Give me hope that rejoicing will come, even if I cannot feel it yet. You are the One who knows, the One who stays, and the One who transforms.
Amen.

July 11 2026