Letter to a Grieving Friend

^{Listen to this post here or on the Dwelling Richly Podcast}

My heart has been aching for you during this time. It’s so hard, and I can understand feeling angry as well as so sad. The grief can overwhelm you at times and you feel swallowed up by it.

I relate.

My father was taken after he suffered for 20 years degrading slowly and ultimately succumbing to Multiple Sclerosis.

My mother was taken after a sudden and terrible battle with cancer that took her from me in 90 days.

My college roommate was taken from me suddenly in a tragic accident while serving the Lord on a missions trip.

My friend was taken so quickly when her body was ravaged beyond repair by Covid.

Why? Why then? When them? Why so soon when they were so loved…

it’s all just so awful.

I relate to the anger and the sadness and the weight of grief as it lays on you and clouds your days.

I relate to the questions and heaviness.

I relate to the constant “Am I evers?” that roll over my mind again and again…

Am I ever going to breathe normally again?

Am I ever going to feel like smiling again?

Am I ever going to just be able to walk here or drive there or see this or hear that and not collapse again under the sudden wave of tears when that moment floods my mind and heart with their memory?

I relate to the questioning also, “Am I grieving right?”

You know? Like, if I was a better, more mature, grounded, and wise person, maybe I wouldn’t be so sad all the time?

If I was more spiritual…a better Christian…knew more verses…remembered more sermons…maybe I wouldn’t have flashes of anger and entitlement? Maybe I’d have a reservoir of strength beyond what I’m feeling now?

Is everyone else just able to crush their sadness like a recycled plastic bottle and toss it far away so they can move on? Because my sadness couldn’t fit in a bottle, not even close.

My sadness? …it could fill the ocean, and I feel like I’m drowning in it.

Should I be more thoughtful? Less scared? More insightful and less selfish, because I feel pretty sad and selfish – truthfully, I wish they were all still here – my roommate, my friend, my dad, and my mom too…I wanted more time with them.

Is it weakness that I still sit in my car, in the garage, in the quietest most sound-proof place I have and just wail and sob until I’m so exhausted and out of tears that I just let the darkness of the garage blanket me from the world?

My friend, like you, I love the Lord, I have trusted Him, I bring all this to Him and cry out, “Why?” I really want an answer. Why did you take them? Why couldn’t we have had more time? How is this possibly a good plan when it’s causing so much ache?

And, like you, I reach for the Bible because I’m not actually hearing the audible response from God, and I long for His Word to find me in my pain and wrap around me and give me relief.

I may be further away in time from these moments that each crushed my heart than you are from the loss you are feeling today, but seeing you grieve sweeps me away and backward in time to my moment of loss, and the emotions come right back.

So I hurt with you. I feel with you.

I’ve even sat again in my car and wept for you, for me, for both of us because now I not only have my grief…I have my tenderness toward you and my ache on your behalf.

I don’t want you to feel this sad – but you will and I can’t hug and hold you hard enough to squeeze it all away even though I wish I could absorb it for you.

It’s hard and honestly, there’s not a list of tips I can give you that you can apply that will fix this and turn off the sadness switch.

I’m just so sorry.

Remember when we were in school prepping for that SAT test? We learned all the tips to help us get a good score and get us to a great college? Somehow I think we get it in our mind that life’s challenges are tests that somehow we can prepare for in that way.

But, there are no tips for this moment because this isn’t a test we can prepare for like that and – thankfully – we’re not being assessed at all and no next stage in our life depends on how well we score in this moment.

It’s not that we can read a list and check off each thing and – voila! – grief bottled. Instead, we come back to what we can know. We withdraw from what we have deposited in the bank of our heart during steadier times…

So…

We do.

We breathe.

We get simple about what we know and we remember truth:
1) God is good.
2) God is love.

No tips. No steps. No tricks or hints. No, “Five Ways to Successfully Grieve Without Becoming an Angry Depressed Human.”

Keep crying when you need to. Keep pausing to let the wave of sadness crash over you when you need to.

Keep opening your eyes in the morning and closing them at night and breathing through each moment in between.

And in those in-between moments, it’s ok to ask “Why?”

Just know that we’re not promised an answer to that question because even if you did get an answer would you really want to know? Could any answer satisfy you?

Instead, what if it’s enough to ask and know that God holds onto your “Why” and doesn’t scold you for asking but instead holds you even closer…

“He is close to the brokenhearted…he delivers those who are discouraged.’ (Psalm 34:18)

Go ahead and ask again and ask every day. It’s ok. Where were you, God? Why did you let this happen? Why? And in your asking, be assured of His answer which centers around the eternal truths that He is good and He is love…

“I dwell in an exalted and holy place,
but also with the discouraged and humiliated,
in order to cheer up the humiliated
and to encourage the discouraged.” (Isaiah 57:15)

Because the truth of God’s goodness and love is as true as His closeness and deliverance – and none of that changes just because we are not feeling particularly loved, close, or delivered.

Is God far away? Yes…but He is near as well. That’s why you can feel at the same time like He’s not hearing you and yet, you do have a sense – however distant – that He is close.

and this I know…

He is close, not close-by holding out the answer to your “why” but holding out His arms to envelop you and comfort you as One who actually relates.

Because this side of Heaven we can’t actually bear all the answers – but we can still ask and trust Him even still and He can handle your hurt and even your anger because it is all embraced by the One who knows very well what sorrow and loss feels like. You can pour out your bottle of tears at His feet and know that He has seen every tear fall. Remember, He is not shaming you for asking or scolding you for yelling – so cry, yell, weep, and know that He is

“a man of sorrows, acquainted with grief.” (Isaiah 53:3)

and He can hold you through your sorrows and grief.

Love,
Jennifer

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Scriptures that you can read for encouragement… Click Here
The week after my mom died, I wrote this:
“A Different Kind of Home”
A longer read with a video:
Why does God allow pain and suffering?
If you’re struggling with sadness:
When I’m still sad

Below is a message I gave about pain and suffering and also a Spotify playlist of worship to listen to when you are out of words of your own. I hope and pray that both will help you in your sadness. But above all, know that you are loved. You are prayed for. God sees you and hears you.

This song by Andrew Peterson is in the Spotify playlist above. There’s something about poetry and music that enables us to capture the essence of our hearts so well. It’s why the Psalms are so special to us, right? Read these words. Listen to the song. Be blessed and encouraged – and maybe, like me, cry – those tears are good. They continue to wash over your heart as you heal and remind you that God is close to you and is holding your broken heart together. 💖

Always Good – Andrew Peterson

Do You remember how Mary was grieving?
How You wept and she fell at Your feet?
If it’s true that You know what I’m feeling
Could it be that You’re weeping with me?

Arise, O Lord, and save me
There’s nowhere else to go

You’re always good, always good
Somehow this sorrow is shaping my heart like it should
And You’re always good, always good

Well it’s so hard to know what You’re doing
Why won’t You tell it all plain?
But You said You’d come back on the third day
And Peter missed it again and again

So maybe the answer surrounds us
But we don’t have eyes to see
That You’re always good, always good
This heartache is moving me closer than joy ever could
And You’re always good

My God, my God, be near me
There’s nowhere else to go
And Lord, if You can hear me
Please help Your child to know

That You’re always good, always good
As we try to believe what is not meant to be understood
Will You help us to trust Your intentions for us are still good
‘Cause You laid down Your life
And You suffered like I never could

You’re always good, always good
You’re always good, always good