Day 13

Genesis 25–26 | Mark 5:21–43 | Psalm 6

“I am weary with my moaning; every night I flood my bed with tears.” (Psalm 6:6)

Psalm 6 is raw. David is crushed beneath the weight of sorrow, his nights filled with tears and his strength drained by suffering. Yet even in his despair, his prayer doesn’t end in hopelessness. By verse 9, the shift happens: “The Lord has heard my plea; the Lord accepts my prayer.” That tension—between overwhelming pain and unwavering trust—resonates deeply. Faith isn’t the absence of struggle. It’s clinging to the assurance that God hears us, even in the darkest nights.

Mark 5 brings that reality into focus. A desperate woman reaches for Jesus, convinced that even touching His robe will be enough. A grieving father pleads for his daughter’s life. These are stories of people at their breaking point—people who refuse to let go of hope. And Jesus responds. He heals. He restores. He turns mourning into joy, proving that those who seek Him will never be left empty.

I can’t read these passages without reflecting on my own suffering. The pain of my hand injury, the nights of feeling isolated and overwhelmed, the moments in which grief felt heavier than hope. And through it all, Jesus was there with me. He didn’t remove the suffering instantly. He didn’t explain the purpose in the moment. But He met me in it. And slowly, over time, He’s been teaching me a deeper joy—not one dependent on circumstances, but one rooted in His presence.

That’s the joy William Barclay had in mind when he said: “The Christian has the serene and untouchable joy which comes from walking forever in the company and in the presence of Jesus Christ.” This joy isn’t about pretending everything is fine. It’s about knowing that—even in the depths of pain and sorrow—we are never alone. Jesus walks with us through every trial, and His joy—unshaken, unbreakable—holds us when we can’t hold ourselves.

Lord, help me to trust Your presence even in suffering. Teach me to find joy in walking with You, knowing that nothing—no pain, no loss, no circumstance—can take it away. Amen.