Early on a cold winter’s morning, late last year, I was woken to the sound of my phone ringing in a different room. Leaping out of bed in the dark, I took the call that I knew was edging ever closer – but which I never really wanted to receive.
My beloved dad had slipped away in his sleep overnight. The Lord had come and called him home.
As a believer in Jesus, he knew with absolute certainty where he was going, and it happened exactly as he had always wanted. He simply went to bed and didn’t wake up, no longer in pain and suffering, after many months of gradual decline.
In the weeks since, I have started to surf the unpredictable waves of grief. Some days, I can cope. Other days, the tears tumble in freefall, unbidden and unrelenting.
The calendar lands on a significant date. The car radio pours out a beautiful piece of music. A lovely condolence card pops through the letterbox. A photo memory appears on my social media feed. An old friend reminisces. I drive past a special place.
All of them catch me unawares; memories evoked, emotions stirred; love and loss, so inextricably linked.
But I also know that God knows what I’m going through. He sees my grief. He feels my pain. He understands my sorrow. He gets the link between love and loss – because he’s been there long before me.
***
In John 11:35, we read that “Jesus wept”.
Whenever I read these words, I am immediately transported to the scene.
Here is Jesus, having arrived at the home of his friends, Mary and Martha, and their brother Lazarus. Martha is scolding him for not coming sooner, Mary is in floods of tears, and he has just found out that Lazarus has been dead for four days. Standing at the entrance to his tomb, surrounded by wailing mourners, he is deeply moved.
Tears prick the backs of his eyes. His throat wells up. His chest heaves. He can’t hold back the gut-wrenching sobs of heartache.
Jesus weeps.
His grief is visceral. His sense of loss is raw, real and relatable.
It is also shared. He weeps with those who are weeping, cries with those who are crying, mourns with those who are mourning. He is right there with them, in the midst of their sorrow.
He sees. He feels. He understands.
***
Focusing, as I so often do in my writing and speaking, on how God breaks into tough times, I can testify to this reality in these recent weeks.
God sees my grief. He feels my pain. He understands my sorrow. And he has given me so many glimpses of his ‘light through the cracks’ that there have been too many for me to count.
If you, like me, are in a season of loss, I pray that you remove any masks of pretension, and are honest and real with Jesus. Hold out your grief before him, for he loves you more than you will ever know. He will come alongside you and simply be with you, in the midst of your sorrow.
Let him comfort you in your heartache. Let him show you his tender presence in your pain. Let him gently hold your fragility.
“Jesus wept.”
He also weeps now, with those of you who are weeping.
***
If you are asked, “Where is God in situations of grief?”, how would you respond? What difference does it make to know that Jesus wept, and still weeps now? How does it make you feel, knowing he mourns with those who mourn?
As ever, constructive comments are welcome below.
(Please note: This is my ‘thought for the month’ reflection for January. You can find all my ‘thought for the month’ reflections here.)
Photo from RDNE Stock Project via Pexels
6 Comments
Thank you Joanna. Your blogs always seem to come after I have had a long or hard day. They lift me out of my pit of tiredness and anxiety. You are such a blessing and encourager, in person and written word. We are facing a tough time as a family right now, yet your blog has been a light in the fog this morning, as I lie in bed exhausted and drinking a big bug of tea. Thank you for keeping close to Jesus and sharing Jesus with us. God bless, Sarah Joy
Thank you for your kind comment, Sarah Joy. I’m sorry to hear that your family is facing a tough time right now. I hope and pray that, in the midst of it, you will be able to see glimpses of God’s ‘light through the cracks’.
Thanks for this Joanna. After 51 years of happy marriage, my dear wife Julia went to be with the Lord 5 and a a half years ago. I cried quite a bit, and I find I still miss her a lot. I went on a course about Living with Loss, which greatly helped, I made new friends there. Be blessed and encouraged. The Lord is with you in your grief and I pray he will give you his peace in your heart. Andrew
Thank you for taking the time to read my blog post, Andrew. I’m sorry to hear that you, too, have been journeying with grief, despite the passage of time. I pray that you will know God’s presence with you in those moments when you miss Julia the most.
My wife died the same week as Andrew’s, and we met on the same Living with Loss course, which I can thoroughly recommend. I was in floods of tears throughout the final candle-lit service in the chapel at Lee Abbey. We grieve most when we love most. Like you, the briefest recollection of something that Ann said or did would trigger floods of painful tears, but in my case, these came to an end after five months. 2 Corinthians 4:16–18 brought me great comfort in the last week or two of Ann’s life, reassuring me that her spirit was well even though she could no longer speak. I am so looking forward to meeting her again in the resurrection!
Thank you for taking the time to read and comment, Arnold. I’m sorry to learn of your loss, but I’m glad to hear that your grieving journey has eased. Like you, I so value the reassurance that comes with the resurrection!