…and living color.
Thank you to each one who contributed your thoughts in response to my questions about grief and mourning, in my last post.
I was asking many of those questions as I examined my own personality and how God speaks peace to me in the context of how I feel and think. I feel things intensely. To those looking on, it can seem like I am perpetually grieving something. But for me, honestly expressing and feeling grief as it comes (what feels like the byproduct of facing life in a fallen world, while continuing to trust a sovereign God and long for something more than what I see around me) has been the pathway to the greatest and richest joy.
It is feeling the weight of the sorrows and looking at my often sad surroundings with what feels like accurate sadness that has freed me up to see and delight in the little joys along the way and experience hope and anticipation, that what I tangibly see is not all there is. Grieving what is sad has allowed my eyes to clear enough to appreciate the joys in the pain, and to delight in hope and trust.
When I wrote those questions, the questions were real and came out of reflection on some sorrows and griefs in my own life and the lives of others. The thoughts prompting that part were from sorrows I still feel the residue of, but which are, to a great degree, past their intensity, and so I could talk about them, reflect on them, ask questions about the whole grief thing, in a way that was (for me) quite matter of fact.
Since writing those questions and reading each of the helpful contributions and responses, I have been slammed again with a great sorrow.
It is big enough and strong enough that the tears have not yet caught up with me, and while my mind is reeling with many implications of what has happened, my heart is still numb.
My mind and body are restless and exhausted. And I am longing for the relief of mourning to come, even while I’m afraid of being paralyzed by it.
In that place, I have just gone back and read some deeply reassuring verses from the book of Hebrews. I’m going to quote them out of order, and (of course, since I’m not going to quote entire chapters), out of context. You can go here to read the bigger context, or even the whole book, which is one of my favorites in the New Testament. The selections are from Hebrews 5:7-9 and Hebrews 4:13-16.
While Jesus was here on earth, he offered prayers and pleadings, with a loud cry and tears, to the one who could deliver him out of death. And God heard his prayers [I always stop and ask, "huh?" at this point in the verse, because it's so easy to assume my prayers have not been heard when the tears don't change a thing, and God's plan continues to unfold in the ways I was pleading with loud cry and tears that it wouldn't. But God heard his prayers...] because of his reverence for God. So even though Jesus was God’s Son, he learned obedience from the things he suffered. In this way, God qualified him as a perfect High Priest, and he became the source of eternal salvation for all those who obey him.
Nothing in all creation can hide from him. Everything is naked and exposed before his eyes. This is the God to whom we must explain all that we have done.
That is why we have a great High Priest who has gone to heaven. Jesus the Son of God. Let us cling to him [oh, yes, how desperately I am clinging] and never stop trusting him [even with my doubts and questions, I find I cannot choose unbelief]. This High Priest of ours understands our weaknesses, for he faced all of the same temptations we do, yet he did not sin. So let us come boldly to the throne of our gracious God. There we will receive his mercy, and we will find grace to help us when we need it. [O Lord, once again, I stand here desperately in need of your grace.]
I am in need of some mourning to give expression to this most recent grief. In need of wisdom as I shepherd my own children through pain I’m uncertain how to navigate myself. In need of strength to be able to bear the exhaustion that comes from the grief and the expression of it.
Just catching up with your last two posts on grief and mourning. A few thoughts on the topic:
1) Grieving is an active process. When my first wife died I participated in a grief recovery group. The leader of the group put it this way – to grieve you have to step into your pain or you will circle around it the rest of your life. Finding a healthy way to express your pain is very important to the process.
2) The book of Job is a handbook of sorts about the grieving process. He begins in denial as he speaks two religious cliches and trys to make sense of the loss of his 10 children.. his wife was grieving a bit faster. He eventually moves through the process and we see many raw emotions surface as he grieves with the help of his friends.
3) Everybody grieves differently – speaking of cliches
It is true though.. there are many different ways to step into your pain and grieve in a healthy way.
I am so sorry that you are having to navigate through a painful time. I pray that the Spirit will be with you, comfort you and teach you how to express your sorrow during this time.
Blessings, Bob
I’m always praying for you, especially on weekends–I’m so sorry to hear another loss has come into your life. As Kansasbob said, everyone grieves differently, and we also grieve every loss differently, so that it might catch us off guard because we thought we knew what to expect. Take extra care of yourself physically, let your children know how you’re feeling so they understand–they can often extend wisdom and comfort and even comic relief–and know many of us are praying with you and for you.
hi eclexia,
i can appreciate your perspective about feeling the depths of sadness and feeling the heights of joy. maybe this has something to do with the mere act of allowing yourself to feel. like, if we never feel sadness, then how can we feel joy? how can we feel anything, if we don’t allow ourselves to feel some fundamental true feelings in ourselves?
i so appreciated your thoughts on my most recent post. you expressed such deep understanding of what i have been feeling. what a blessing it has been to find a kinship in these places with you.
love to you,
christianne
Thank you, each one, for these kind and helpful words. They are seeping into me, bringing encouragement and comfort and strength. Many, many thanks.