The material felt cool on my skin as I slipped on the white dress inside the bridal store’s fitting room. My sister, niece, and mom waited for me to parade on out and show them the next option. I stepped out from behind the curtain, basking in their excitement. I looked in the long mirror and felt beautiful. I knew it right away: this was the dress I wanted to get married in.

If you’ve been around (in)courage, you know that marriage is something I have prayed for… for years. Some days I wondered if God had forgotten about this desire of my heart, but He always reminded me to keep on asking.

And now, five years after asking God daily for a husband who loves Him and loves me, here I am. I get to marry the love of my life this summer. The wedding preparations are well underway. The date is set, the wedding bands secured, and the dress I tried on in that fitting room is purchased.

I’ve been engaged for two months now, but it still hasn’t sunk in yet: I am a bride.

A few weeks ago, the writers of (in)courage got together for our annual retreat. After dinner one evening, I went up to meet them in a common room, but found myself walking into a surprise wedding shower. I couldn’t believe it. They placed a tiara and a veil on top of my head. My (in)courage sisters had written me love letters with marriage advice and prayers. They surrounded me, praying over me and for my marriage. They gave me money for our honeymoon.

It brought tears to my eyes for numerous reasons: these dear friends of mine – many who have known me for over a decade and have been witnesses for so much of my life – are now witnesses to this next chapter. But that wasn’t what moved me most. What moved me the most was their willingness to celebrate me, despite what they might be facing in their own lives. Many in that room are still praying for things to come. And yet, it didn’t stop them from celebrating.

I hesitate to write about this, because I know how tender it can be when you’re still praying for the thing you’ve been praying about for years. But the reason I decided to is because these friends of mine showed me the very definition of “rejoice with those who rejoice”.

I want to be that kind of friend.

So often, I can mourn with those who mourn, but find it far more challenging to rejoice with those who rejoice – especially when they’re rejoicing over something I haven’t seen come to fruition in my own life yet.

It can feel too painful to celebrate a friend when I want exactly what they seem to have. My natural inclination is to hide or buy a pint of ice cream. But what if, instead of running or hiding, we let it spur us into celebration? What if, even in our tenderness, we consider it an invitation to embrace hopefulness for all God could do?

It’s easier said than done, I know. And my heart is so tender towards you. But I want you to know: God has not forgotten you or overlooked you. You are His, totally and fully.

God mourns with those who mourn and He rejoices with those who rejoice.

I want to, too.

I want to be the friend who celebrates God’s faithfulness in the life of another. Who buys the tiara, and the veil, and writes love cards and marriage advice.

I want to trust God enough that, no matter what my life may look like, I can celebrate what He is doing in the life of another.

So today, I celebrate you – and all the goodness you see in your life. And today, I mourn with you – and wait with hope for all the prayers you’re still waiting to see answered.

Let’s be the kind of friends who can do both.

 

Listen to Aliza’s devotion here or wherever you stream podcasts. 

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