Welcome Grief

Paul reminds us in his letter to the church in Thessalonica that we do “not grieve as others do who have no hope” (1 Thess. 4:13). But what exactly does that mean? In this series, we explore what it looks like to honor God in our grief and examine the ways we can choose to grieve with hope.

Within a few months of losing our son Jacob just seven hours after he was born, I was walking to the car with my husband and I looked at him saying, “I cannot do this anymore.” Actually, that wasn’t the only time I said that either. I was exhausted. Not only had I carried him to term after a prenatal diagnosis, but now I was learning to live without him. It was painful. But it would get worse. Ten months after we lost Jacob, we lost a second baby—this time via miscarriage.

Throughout the year, I wrestled with the concept of normalcy. I wanted my “normal” capacity to return. I wanted to feel like myself again. I didn’t want this to be my story— yes, my story, the one where two babies who grew in my womb were not in my arms. This couldn’t really be what God had for me.

While I had been deeply grieving already, it wasn’t until our second loss that I had to come face to face with what was really swirling beneath the surface in my heart through this desire to “get back to normal.” I had to admit to myself that I was scared of the full breadth and depth of what I was feeling, and I had to let go of every notion I had to grieve the way I thought I was supposed to—the way that I thought everyone else would expect me to.  

Around this time, a wise woman spoke into my life. She mentioned that at the root of all these attempts to grieve a certain way was simply a desire for control. When our lives feel chaotic, many of us respond by grasping for anything we can. Even though we know deep down that we really don’t have control of much of anything, we live as if we did. In my case, that meant controlling how I was grieving. I still wanted to present a certain response to my grief to a watching world.

It’s easy as followers of God to think that we play a part in holding onto Him. That the reason we follow Him, even through hard times, is because we are doing something right. We play our part and prove that we can do it—we don’t need Him too much. That couldn’t be father from the truth. Just like a child carried into the ocean by his father, the child isn’t really the one holding one and keeping himself safe; the father is. We are already in the palm of God’s hands. Any sense of our personal control keeping us there is just a façade.

So, we can let go. We can let go, and we can fall into the arms of Jesus.

And you know what? He will hold you. He held me. He didn’t let me go. He who began a good work in us surely is bringing it to completion (Philippians 1:6). He takes our burdens and gives us His yoke, and it is lighter (Matthew 11:28). Nothing can separate us from His love (Romans 8:38-39). 

Sweet friend, I don’t know where you are in your grief today, but the words Jesus spoke to Paul are true for you: “My grace is sufficient for you. For my power is made perfect in weakness” (2 Corinthians 12:9).

Practically speaking, what does this look like?

1. Allow yourself to experience what you experience, without fear of what it looks like to others—or yourself. Pretending and acting just twists the pain more and buries it deeper in your soul. Be encouraged by psalms where David laments (such as Psalm 62), or the song of Hannah as she cries out during her infertility (1 Samuel). These are only two examples of the many men and women who bore their soul and allowed their honest emotions to be on display—and God responds to them both with love and care.
2. Take those emotions (sadness, anger, regret, or even laughter) to Jesus. He welcomes them. The number of times I have cried out to the Lord in my anger and disappointment are innumerable. And yet, every time, God met me. He hears our cries. He collects our tears in a bottle (Psalm 56:8). More than that, He wants our truest selves. God knows what’s in your heart already! He invites you to a relationship with Him, not to put up a front, but because He loves you. Let Him love you, and let Him heal you by letting Him in to those places where you feel scared.
3. The only way out is through. In labor with my son Jacob, I reached a point where I didn’t think I could do it. I knew that when he was born I’d be preparing to say goodbye. A nurse looked at me and told me, “Meg, the only way out is through.” In grief, as painful as it is, the same is true. Grief doesn’t go away simply because we want it to be. There is no “going back to normal.” But when we step forward in faith and allow the emotions to come as they may, we can take more steps towards the next thing. We can continue to live. And while I say that the only way out is through, I don’t say that as if there is a special finish line… yet.

There is a day when the sorrows will end—when death is finally defeated. One day, we will be around the throne celebrating the reign of our God. No more tears. No more sorrow. No more death.

We are free to release our tears now knowing that Revelation 21:3-4 is true.

“Behold, the dwelling place of God is with man. He will dwell with them, and they will be His people, and God Himself will be with them as their God. He will wipe away every tear from their eyes, and death shall be no more, neither shall there be mourning, nor crying, nor pain anymore, for the former things have passed away.”

Until the new heaven and new earth, there is no promise that our pain and sorrow will end. But there is something tucked in there that can be balm to your soul: God says He will be with us (Matthew 28:20). This is just as true now as it was then. And so, as you limp towards that day, you can grieve in hope. The dwelling place of God is with man. God is with you in your pain. 

You have lost your child(ren). You grieve because you love them. It is good and right that you would grieve them, because your love for them is so deep. But you know the end of the story, and this is not the end. You can grieve with hope. Take it all to Him. He loves you, He can take it, and He gave it all for you.

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.

We would be honored to share your story as a Hope Mom on our blog. On Saturdays we feature Hope Moms’ stories in order to showcase God’s faithfulness even in the midst of such deep sorrow. If you would like to have your story shared on our blog for this purpose, learn more and submit here.