I believe that Christians inherently carry grief that, for the most part, remains beneath the surface. It is the grief for our God having to suffer for all of our shortcomings and the knowledge that we do not live up to the sacrifice He made for us. Our grief bubbles out from the least of events to our most poignant losses and carries with it components of the personal loss and the underlying grief for our inadequacies. Grief should never be summarily dismissed as an unchristian display of disbelief; after all, didn’t Jesus himself grieve for his friend Lazarus, his family, and friends? I encourage you to read John 11: 1 – 44 as Jesus shows us how to grieve and comfort those who also grieve, and transcend the grief to victory.
My latest brush with grief has caught me by surprise. It was like a cloud on the horizon, all fluffy and white, harmless seeming as it made its appearance, only to reveal its dark underlining as it cleared the horizon and came fully into view. For certain, this was no monsoon but a cloud that carried with it the promise of a brief shower and the potential for heavenly fireworks and the rumblings of discontent. So strange that the loss of our pet cockatiel Mo, whom I dubbed The Sentry as I dug his grave, would release such feelings complete with all the classic pains. I learned many years ago not to be ashamed of my penchant for emotional displays; they are a part of who I am and I try to embrace the moment and share it with my friends and family to become a point of bonding. I believe that grief, like many wounds, benefits from being in the open and breathing to help the healing process. Bearing that in mind, we must guard against letting the grief fester and become infected; the complications can be costly.
I let one of my greatest loses grew to the point of becoming cancerous. I’d lost one of my closest of friends, Doug Clark, to an untimely accident at the hands of a drunk driver, Doug being the only one in his car that died and was the only one in the car without a broken bone. I questioned God to the point of swearing to myself that I would ask Him for an explanation of this when I finally meet Him. Where was He for me in this? Was not Doug the first person I knelt with in prayer that opened the door to Christ to enter his heart? How could He take him like this, what was the point? I carried those questions and they fermented into a bitterness that could only be cured by a miracle healing, one came at the hands of the first Mission Arizona team I was on that, when I exposed the scars of this, laid hands on me and brought healing to my spirit. The faith and capabilities of junior high students are amazing.
Let’s wrap this up with a quick look at Jesus and Lazarus, shall we? Jesus heard that his friend Lazarus was ill but did not immediately run to Bethany to heal him. Instead, Jesus continued with what he was doing and operated in faith that God was yet to be glorified in Lazarus. Even though Jesus faced the enmity of those in the area, once Lazarus was dead he left for Bethany knowing God would be glorified in him and his friend Lazarus, “the one you love” (John 11: 3). Upon arriving on the scene Jesus faced the questions about him not being there for them and then his grief came into the open and he grieved for his friend and those who also loved Lazarus. In short, Jesus recognized that grief was on the horizon, continued to do the Father’s will, met the grief when it came upon him and his friends, and then took charge of the grief and in faith raised Lazarus from the dead. I love the last part of this scripture where Jesus says “Take off the grave clothes and let him go.” To me He is saying, take off the bindings of your grief and be free, rejoice that my Kingdom draws near.” And to that I have to say that I have a large heart, plenty of room there to remember the lost in kindness, and let more in.
In His Grip - jerry
