Several years ago my husband and I drove through Yellowstone National Park. The majesty and beauty was breathtaking. And yet, as we drove through the park, it was evident that this beautiful, tranquil place had also suffered pain, destruction and heartache. My camera clicked and clicked as my mind tried to accept such a harsh contradiction displayed on the winding road we were traveling. This picture is a beautiful representation of life. So often, life shows us the beautiful next to the ugly, wealth and poverty in the same grocery checkout line, health and illness living together under the same roof, celebration of birth and grieving death within the same family unit, joy and sorrow, and the list goes on and on.

We ask ourselves how this can be and yet we know it is because we live in a fallen world. Centuries ago, in the book of Ecclesiastes, Solomon told us

“There is an appointed time for everything. And there is a time for every event under heaven- A time to give birth and a time to die; A time to plant and a time to uproot what is planted. A time to kill and a time to heal; A time to tear down and a time to build up. A time to weep and a time to laugh; A time to mourn and a time to dance. A time to throw stones and a time to gather stones; A time to embrace and a time to shun embracing. A time to search and a time to give up as lost; A time to keep and a time to throw away. A time to tear apart and a time to sew together; A time to be silent and a time to speak. A time to love and a time to hate; A time for war and a time for peace.”

But, when we experience such stark opposites in the same season of life it takes our breath away and we feel the power of the devastating contradictions. How do we celebrate when we’re grieving, laugh when we want to crawl in a hole and cry? How do we celebrate health when our loved ones health is gone? How does a young mother celebrate giving birth to her first child as she grieves for her mother who is being laid to rest just miles from her hospital room? We cross the road. The bare trees don’t vanish when we cross over to view the lush trees, nor do the lush trees wither when we cross to contemplate what damage the fire has done. It’s all still there, so by faith, knowing we are only pilgrims walking home, sometimes we just have to cross the road.