A first time visitor to our church approached my husband after the service this past Sunday.  Having already been introduced before the service began, the man felt free to come and make a comment on Robert’s sermon after the service was over.

“The way I’ve come to judge a good sermon recently is to ask myself if the sermon caused me to love Jesus more than I did before. Your sermon today did just that.  I love Jesus more now because of what you taught today, man.  Thank you.”

Later that evening, Robert told me about this interaction with tears in his eyes.  Giving all credit to Christ for the sermon, he was overwhelmed by the honor of being used by Him in that way.  I was in tears as well.  The sermon made me love Jesus more, too, but it wasn’t the only thing this week that served to bring about about more love for my Savior.

The other thing wasn’t powerful, expositional teaching.  It wasn’t a beautiful worship song, or faith exhorting book.  Honestly, it wasn’t even the written Word of God which always lifts my eyes and soul to Him.  It was sorrow.  It is grief.  A pained and breaking heart.  Rejection and loss.

“It hurts so much,” I say to my pastor husband.  “Like, my heart literally hurts.  I sat in church listening to your sermon that, like the man said, truly was making me love Jesus more, but I couldn’t stop thinking about it.  Couldn’t fight the tears. I don’t think I’ve ever truly suffered a broken heart until now.”

A couple of days pass.  Surely, I’ll feel better after some sleep, some daily distractions, some food, I think to myself.  But I don’t.

“How are you doing,” the husband asks me during our usual 6.7 mile run along the secluded bike trail early one morning.

“It’s not better. It is so painful.  The sadness is so present.  All that was invested.  All that I believed. The tears come unexpectedly.  When will I feel better?  How will I move forward?” I cry.

“I don’t know, but I think you know and love Jesus more now because of the sorrow, don’t you,” he gently suggests.

“But I feel foolish for believing and giving so much,” I say.

“You did those things unto Christ.  Nothing has been lost.  Much has been gained.  You love Christ more now,” the prophet husband speaks.

And he’s right.  And I do.

It made me think of Mrs. Campbell from my favorite book…

Mrs. Campbell is a fictional character dreamed up by the same godly woman who wrote this hymn:

And then I came home and opened up His Word, and this is what it said:

For His sake He beautifies me with salvation ~ with a depth of understanding regarding exactly what my salvation is. Freedom from sin.  Freedom to love Him more. (And He will even bring my soul out of its troubled state, as well.)

I think Mrs. Campbell says it perfectly: