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It has been over a year since I have blogged. I have been continuing to write but anytime I think to write in blog form for the “world” to see, I hold back.  Unlike most people in my circles, I am heavily immersed in grief culture. Books, interactive journals, podcasts, forums etc. My finger has been on the pulse of how this culture grieves, or better yet, avoids grief. I have found very little resources out there that caters to early grief. So many resources, religious and secular alike, urge the griever whether they know it or not, to look towards the future, the hope, the lessons and the silver lining. 

(For the record, “early grief” it’s NOT just the first 3 months. It is different for everyone. I would say mine was 2 years.)

I refuse to contribute to the already overwhelming amount of grief material that glorifies or rushes the griever towards the mountaintop after the valley of true grief.  When I started this blog I was in that valley. I cannot recreate that style of writing. Early grief is Holy. And bearing witness to someone’s deep grief is sacred. You get to experience early grief once and when it is over it is really really over. I want this blog to be a place where grieving people can come to feel seen and heard. Not reminded of treasures, not rushed along to the part where you learn a valuable lesson. I want you to sit with me and acknowledge the sorrow you feel. And I want you to know that THAT FEELING IS OK. I also want this blog to be a place where the rest of us learn how to best support our grieving loved ones. How you show up for a grieving friend can change everything for them.

I recently read an article on Facebook about two men – missionaries in Haiti, who were tragically killed when their airplane went down- leaving behind their wives and multiple children. The first comment I read under that post said; “…we will never understand these types of things, but the blessing in this is that these children didn’t lose BOTH their parents.”   …???!!!!???? @%*$!!!  This tone deaf comment got 173 likes. Could you imagine someone telling me, at least you didn’t lose ALL your children!

 

Why do we do this? This is not helpful, this is not loving, this is not Biblical.

 

Some of you may want to defend this, because after all, it is true and she was only trying to help! But the reality is, comments like that take away the grievers right to be devastated. If your partner died, doing God’s work, leaving you to raise your young children alone, you would be devastated. It is only because that woman, and SO many of us are SO uncomfortable with the sorrow in this world. The well intended (and usually over spiritual) are desperately trying to project this skewed sense of optimism onto you broken heart. It’s hurtful, and if you have received that kind of careless comment, its normal that you felt betrayed and unseen. Don’t let this culture who runs from pain stop you from feeling the gravity of your loss.

 

Last week at church pastor Greg spoke about how we emphasize Jesus as God more than we do his humanness. It went so well with what I was pondering that week, and ultimately lead me to writing again. I think of Gethsemane Jesus. The night before Jesus was betrayed he famously went to the garden of Gethsemane and proceeded to fall into deep sorrow. He was visibly in great agony. The Bible says he was sweating blood- not sure that’s possible, but regardless, the writer is painting a picture of human anguish and distress. 

The ALL God / All Man Jesus of Nazareth was deeply distraught and sobbing, full of sorrow for he knew what was about to happen come dawn. He begged God to “let this cup pass.” He acted this way with full knowledge of the triumph over sin that his betrayal, humiliation and death would make way for.

In spite of the freedom that came with the cross, that Jesus obviously knew about, it was His soul purpose after all. Regardless of the restoration of mankind that would come with his death, He still descended into sorrow. “Why can’t he just look at the big picture? Why couldn’t he just focus on the good? Good vibes only, Jesus!! Didn’t he get the memo? Isn’t he God?!?”

Yes, but he is also man. And the humanness He displayed in Gethsemane shouldn’t make us uncomfortable. We should make space for it, practice it, and allow sorrow to seep into our bones. Even though we know the goodness of God’s ultimate plan of redemption, it is a spiritual practice to explore & allow our human emotions. God created us this way. Sorrow sucks and I imagine sweating blood isn’t fun, but bypassing this stage of grief means bypassing spiritual maturity. This is where God meets us. This is what being human looks like.

Think. How can you expect a griever, in all their human limitations, to merely fix their eyes on the end game- the silver lining? And don’t get defensive here. You do. We all do. I still catch myself. God incarnate could not (or just did not) and we shouldn’t either. The well-intended lovingly add Romans 8:28 in their bereavement cards reminding you that all things work together for the good of those who love God. This is just further evidence that our culture is so uncomfortable with your sorrow, that they are begging you (or gently nudging you) to just simply focus on the big picture- the distant and allusive treasure that is sure to be birthed from this tragedy. I urge you, do not let their discomfort be your roadblock. You deserve to mourn and lament. Sit in it, embody what it means to be broken. God is there with you. More than He could ever be outside that pain.

No matter how low I descended, I still felt His presence. Maybe not His goodness, but that came eventually. So it’s ok that you aren’t feeling His goodness right now. Rejoice with those who rejoice and mourn with those who mourn, Paul says to the Romans. Not, “try to convince those who mourn to instead rejoice.”

 Personal note:   When I did allow myself to descend into that wretched Valley of grief and pain and loss, there is a deep loneliness there. This is so hard for non grievers to understand. I felt so disconnected from this world. If my baby no longer belonged here, surely I didn’t either. I often comment on the paradox of grief and this is yet another one. The lonelier I felt and the more disconnected from this world I became, this is where God was most near. One would think a present God would abolish loneliness, but it didn’t. And I don’t think that’s the point. It was as if God, with His arm around me was showing me this world I was never made for. How he longs for all his children to be restored. Death is all wrong.

And if you are wondering, I did comment on the tone deaf remark on Facebook. I mindfully explained how her approach isn’t helpful, My comment got 3 likes. Not 173+. This comes as no surprise. But this is why I feel so strongly about how I write this blog. This blog is for those wandering the valley. For me, it doesn’t take much to slide off my mountain top back into the darkness. It is always looming. But it is supposed to be there. And despite what our culture tells us, and what your instincts might tell you, do not avoid it. The fear surrounding that avoidance can feel worse than the grief itself. Surrender to your humanness, there you will find the very heart of God. In. Your. Sorrow.

Stay tuned for passages that actually meet a person in their grief.