Grace for Community

A few weeks after we received a fatal diagnosis for our son, we received one of my favorite emails yet.

A friend, who had been walking through deep waters of grief for many years, wrote that she and her husband were praying for us to have grace for our community.

I smiled.

She knew exactly what it meant to be in the position we were in.

At this point we had received several emails, cards, and comments from people who wanted to care for us well. At times, though, the things that they felt might comfort us weren’t exactly encouraging. In fact, many things people said stung—I still remember some of them nearly three years later.

I remember being thankful people were saying something rather than saying nothing. I honestly didn’t have all the right words, either, but although well-intended, some phrases, comments, or stories were tough to take in.

In time grief became deeper, harder, darker, and also more familiar and normal, and I often thought back on that prayer. Grace for our community.

As challenging as it may feel at times, and as little energy as we often have in grief, here are three reasons why we can have grace for our community.

We are Promised no Entitlement

When we go through significant loss, we begin to assume that we deserve things a certain way. I remember friends even telling me after we lost our son, that we deserved a healthy next pregnancy. I went so far as to assume that because of the pain I had endured, I somehow deserved the right to avoid any suffering for the rest of my life; I’d suffered enough.

This is not what God promises in His Word. Do I need extra care at times from those who love me? Of course. Will I have times where I am not suffering? Sure. Does God use the things we’ve gone through to teach us, mold us, and sometimes give us good things? Yes. But where does God promise that satisfaction will be found? Not in others, not in my circumstances, but in Him. 

Therefore, we cannot simply live entitled to ease or pain-free living after loss. We lay down our rights at the cross—even the right to comfort. We have no inherent right to never have someone forget our child, to never feel lonely or hurt, to get everything else we want in life, to think ourselves higher than anyone else because we have suffered “more” than them, and so on. 

Instead, we can have grace for our community for the simple fact that our contentment does not come in how others view or treat us, but rather, in the One who sees us in our pain, empathizes with us, relates to us, and cares for us. We are freed up to love others, even when we have suffered, because our identity does not come in the things that God has or has not given us, but in who He has called us to be—His children.

We Were Once Unaware

It’s easy, when you’ve suffered, to think that you are now the expert in grief. You know what it means to be painfully hurt and hopeless—what hurts, and what helps.

But if I’m honest, before I lost my son, I had no idea what it was like to grieve so much. I had experienced some loss, and am naturally empathetic, but I am positive that I’ve said, done, and forgotten things that caused others additional heartache. To be completely transparent, even since my losses, I continue to say, do, and forget things for others who are suffering, and have likely caused them pain. I have had to apologize to my own husband many times for not caring for him well in his aches.

Instead of holding friends and family to a standard they cannot attain, I instead can have grace with them.  Sometimes, grace may look like absorbing a painful comment and giving someone the benefit of the doubt —even when I might get in my car later and cry because it stung. Because my identity is not found in how others respond to my pain, I can rest in God seeing me in those moments of loneliness and isolation.

On the flip side, I can also have grace for my community by speaking truth into the painful action. There are times where it is appropriate to tenderly and honestly speak our child’s name into their memory, or patiently and gently correct them when they say, or do, or forget the wrong things. At times, grace may also look like me being vulnerable—literally explaining, “This is what I need,” or “This is what hurts me,” so they can care for me well.

Let’s be honest, true community wants to love us. They want to say the right things. Instead of causing them to withhold out of fear of saying or doing the wrong things (and haven’t we all been there?), let’s use our experience to help our friends learn how to care for the hurting by letting things go, or by speaking truth into the additional pain.

We Have a Savior Who Suffered

The ultimate reason why we can have grace for our community?

We’ve been shown such grace ourselves.

We are often reminded that we have a Savior who has suffered on our behalf as followers of Jesus.  Remembering that Jesus knew and endured suffering has reassured me many times as I consider my own.  Knowing that Mary, the mother of Jesus, and Eve, the very first mother, both experienced child loss—that has comforted me. Knowing that God Himself lost His Son—that has drawn me to Him.

But, I often forget the reason that Jesus suffered. He suffered on my behalf. “While we were still sinners, Christ died for us” (Romans 5:8). Because of me, Jesus suffered and died.

If Jesus was willing to enter into the messiness of the world, humbly living among men, and still chose to love those who would ultimately cause Him the most suffering, how much more can His salvation of my soul, and the Holy Spirit’s transformation of my heart allow me to love others as well?

It’s hard to have grace for our community. It’s painful to experience those hurtful comments or forgetful questions. I’ve been there. There is a time and a place to allow those things to happen, and a time and a place to gently speak into those situations. But, I want to be a woman who knows and makes known the Savior of the world—even though I have suffered greatly, and because I have suffered greatly. He has given me community. So I embrace the prayer my friend prayed over me—for grace upon grace—and I pray that is true for you as well. We are freed in the gospel to do so.

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My husband John-Mark and I live in Richmond, VA, where we spend our days with college students, sharing the grace and truth that Jesus offers as He transforms their lives – and ours. I am a big fan of warm weather and the beach, meaningful conversations with those I love, and my family. These days I am in a new phase of my motherhood as I invest most of my time caring for my youngest, a sweet baby girl. The greatest honor of my life is being a mom of two with babies in Heaven.

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