Old Souls

"Now when the builders had laid the foundation of the temple of the LORD, the priests stood in their apparel with trumpets, and the Levites, the sons of Asaph, with cymbals, to praise the LORD according to the directions of King David of Israel. They sang, praising and giving thanks to the LORD, saying, 'For He is good, for His lovingkindness is upon Israel forever.' And all the people shouted with a great shout when they praised the LORD because the foundation of the house of the LORD was laid. Yet many of the priests and Levites and heads of fathers' households, the old men who had seen the first temple, wept with a loud voice when the foundation of this house was laid before their eyes, while many shouted aloud for joy, so that the people could not distinguish the sound of the shout of joy from the sound of the weeping of the people, for the people shouted with a loud shout, and the sound was heard far away." --Ezra 3:10-13

You don't have to scour retirement homes to find them. They may not be at the point where they need to 'Fixodent and forget it.' There is a group of delightful people in the world that are referred to as old souls. And, regardless of age, they offer a side of the story that needs to be told.

Ezra offered me this reminder this morning as I read the account of the foundation of the 2nd temple being laid. Understandably, this was a time of great rejoicing for God's people. This kind of redemption is certainly not something to be taken lightly. However, as the young bucks who labored over the temple celebrated with shouts of joy, some of the old-timers wept. There is much depth to this reaction, depth that I want to know.

For those old enough to remember (or wise enough to not forget), this moment was an unprecedented encounter with God's mercy. Memories of fish hooks, fire and famine suddenly gave way to redemption and rebuilding. God, by his grace, disciplined his people--and with that same grace, he brought them home. I can't help but imagine that every tear carried a certain measure of reverence. God could just as easily destroy this second foundation as he did the first in his fatherly, disciplinary love. He is sovereign in both his pardon and his wrath. These two realities working in tandem amount to an overwhelming response, to say the least. 

The passage goes on to describe how the sounds of rejoicing and the sounds of weeping married and were carried off in the distance. I am reminded of how we desperately need this balance. We need shouts of joy just as much as we need cries of sorrow. We need brokenness just as much as we need rebuilding. We need stories of victory just as much as we need cautionary tales. Why? Because the two combine and carry God's glory immeasurably further than one or the other could do on its own. The world needs to see and hear the whole story... not just one part. This is mirrored in the life of Jesus, who exemplified--in himself--perfect anguish and perfect victory. 

I long to tell both sides of the story in my own life... to be rid of cynicism enough to praise and rejoice like a child and filled with wisdom and depth of experience enough to weep when awestruck by God's glory.