Grief, without knowing it, may be the most common emotion carried within the culture since the beginning of the COVID-19 pandemic. This is purely anecdotal, but I venture to guess that the majority of the American Public is carrying unrecognized, mislabeled grief.
Most, I would guess, are grieving a way of life and a world that simply no longer exists. From the loss of loved ones to the loss of jobs, friendships, community, or personal economic progress, we have many reasons to grieve. Even more so for those who carry the title of “Pastor.” While everyone was losing their collective minds in the height of social distancing, we found ourselves in the middle of the crossroads of culture, politics, science, and religion. We were trying to maintain a testimony of grace and faithfulness in the midst of political and social turmoil. We were trying to protect the elderly and the vulnerable, without infringing upon others certain civil liberties. Personally, I never imagined I would ever find myself speechless at the ability of a 6-inch piece of fabric being an object of offense.
This is why I love this quote that opens C.S. Lewis’s A Grief Observed:
“No one ever told me that grief felt so like fear. I am not afraid, but the sensation is like being afraid. The same fluttering in the stomach, the same restlessness, the yawning. I keep on swallowing.”
Restlessness. Yawning. Constant swallowing. I venture to guess you’ve also felt those sensations. What may feel like a constant battle with fear may be your body’s way of telling you, “You need to grieve.”
What Good is Grief?
I never understood the expression of lament, “Good grief!” I can’t even speak the phrase without also throwing my head backwards, with my arms stretched out to my sides, and screaming, “Arrrrggghhhh!” Something akin to Charlie Brown from Peanuts. What could be good about something so miserable and unrelenting as grief?
Wouldn’t you know that the only way to appreciate the good qualities of anything is to experience it for yourself? While I would not want any other brother or sister in Christ to experience the pain of ministry hurt or the grief of the death of a loved one (and certainly not both at the same time), I know that I am now familiar with pain at a level that hopes to be useful to others because of what my family and I have endured. Reader, may I remind you that you may well be, too.
Here’s five things I have learned through my journey with grief:
Grief never leaves. It’s a reality to live, not a problem to be solved.
While what I have experienced and lived through in recent years is definitely at the forefront of my mind, what I have seen over the past several months is that I have been grieving for a lot longer than I even realized. Acutely, I have mourned the loss of my job, my church, my community, and my mother-in-law. I have been carrying the weight of how that has shaped my family, our relationships, and our family dynamics. Yet, this isn’t the first time I have faced such changes. And it’s likely not the last.
This opened up my perspective to consider what I have been carrying over the course of my life that may need to finally be grieved and laid to rest. Personally, it has led to a lot of self-reflection and has broadened my understanding of who I am and why I feel and behave in particular ways. When it comes to being a pastor, I have discovered that I have placed a lot of value in holding the title, finding my identity too closely tied to what I do. God has used the words of a wise, elder pastor/counselor to speak to my soul by saying, “Matt, you are a Human BEing, not a Human DOing. You are who you BE, not what you DO.” Grammatically, an egregious statement. But water for my thirsty, weary soul. Digging deeper allowed me to consider why my identity was so wrapped up in proving my worth through what I do and discovering the wounds from my past that led me there.
Which brings me to the second lesson:
Grief is good. It’s a necessary element of finding healing.
In my younger years, I fought long and hard to fight against what I now know to be grief. I think this is a particular flaw of character and leadership development in our culture at-large. Prior generations of fathers and grandfathers simply did not teach or model how to handle human emotions well. Generations of men have now grown up with absent fathers, abusive fathers, cold fathers, and simply ill-equipped fathers. Insecurity has sat in the driver’s seat of our emotions, leading to shame-based parenting and wounded boys growing into wounded men.
The problem is unhealed wounds tend to fester and become serious infections that are passed along to future generations. Grief, handled well, becomes a cleansing wash for our wounds, setting us on the path of healing.
It’s painful to recognize and wash out those old wounds. To take the time to turn inward and consider the hurt from your past will be painful, but it’s worth it. It can, and hopefully will, begin to allow those wounds to heal correctly. Good grief allows us to recognize what we have been through, how it has shaped us, and give the Lord the opportunity to bring new life where death has reigned. We can’t change our past, but we can change how the past will impact our future.
Grief is an avenue for God’s grace to arrive in our lives.
As pastors, it is our duty to help our people see how the Gospel impacts their everyday lives. I can think of no other more significant impact than living in the light of God’s grace. Unhealed wounds will undoubtedly cause others around us to be wounded, but those who find healing are able to offer healing. God’s grace abounds in our willingness to grieve the losses, traumas, and tragedies of life. The Gospel proclaims the ultimate victory over the ultimate loss: Life beats death.
As Paul celebrates in 1 Corinthians 15, “Death is swallowed up in victory!”
I believe this means we can and will experience this same victory over the way death tries to defeat us in our emotional, mental, and spiritual health. The Gospel frees us from the effects of sin, in that, we no longer live under its authority or the fear of its consequences. While I don’t know if I agree with the phrasing of “breaking generational curses,” I do agree with the sentiment. God, by His grace, has given us victory over our sin, the sins of our fathers, and the sins of others that impact us. We do not have to live in fear that we will only continue the cycle of pain we experienced. However, I believe the best and most healing path is one that recognizes the pain and sorrow caused by such sin and submits it to God’s grace through faith. God has certainly done this for me, and while I am not perfect, He is using this as an avenue to shape me into the image of Christ.
Grief is heavy.
You may be asking, “Shouldn’t this observation have been a little earlier?” And you’re right, maybe it should have been. However, I have found that grief has an unexpected ally that has been close at hand, thanks to God’s grace: Hope.
The weight of my grief has not changed. It’s heavy. When I sit with it, I feel it weighing me down. But after feeling its weight and allowing it to have a moment, something else altogether arises and that is hope. Hope, in the book of Romans, is the result of suffering well. For believers, suffering leads to endurance, endurance to character, and character to hope. These are not things that we produce in and of ourselves, but they have and are placed within us by the Holy Spirit. We simply discover them when we bring our grief to the surface and present it to God. I believe that when we allow ourselves to grieve, it is a necessary part of the sanctifying process Paul shares in Romans 5, ending with the discovery of a hope that will not let us down.
Grief is isolating but is not isolated.
Finally, I want to end with a simply stated reality: We are not alone in our grief.
Everyone, every pastor, every congregant, every believer, every unbeliever is carrying grief. This is so important to remember. While our default response may typically be to isolate ourselves from others and hide our pain, we must fight this impulse. Aside from the obvious dangers (self-medication, self-deprecation, or even self-harm), isolation is the antithesis of the hope of the Gospel. From beginning to end, the Scriptures proclaim the good news that there is a God who desires to gather His people to a place where they may dwell together. Whatever you do, brothers and sisters, do everything you can to remain connected to good friends, wise counsel, and your Heavenly Father who loves you.
For me, this has happened through vital disciplines and rhythms I have developed and protected. When I feel the weight of grief, I don’t run from it, but rather to the Father through these practices.
- Daily solitude and silence. There is simply no other way to hear the voice of God unless you make time and space to be still and listen. For me, this means beginning my day with a silent, simple meditation I discovered reading The Furious Longing of God by Brennan Manning: “Abba, I belong to You.”
- Daily reading of scripture. This is the first year I have maintained a daily Bible in a year reading plan through YouVersion. I have a widget that tracks my daily “opens” of the Bible app, which has helped to motivate me to open the app on a consistent basis. It’s about 4-5 chapters a day, with a break on Sundays, so it immerses me in the text and has allowed me to revisit passages I haven’t studied since Bible College/Seminary. I’ve loved it!
- Weekly worship and community. This was a tough one for us, as we transitioned away from the church we worked with earlier this year. There was a lot of pain when I thought about going to church, but we have found that where we attend is just what we’ve needed right now. It is refreshing to attend with my family and to be immersed in Gospel liturgy each and every Sunday. My fear of church became a grace to me as I have grieved the loss of my community.
- Occasional journaling of prayers. I love journaling and I think it’s a fantastic discipline, but if I am honest, I am terrible at doing so consistently. So, I took the pressure off. I simply journal when I have something worth journaling about and that is okay. However, I can’t express enough where I have found so much encouragement and joyful reminders of the prayers I have prayed in the past and can now see how the Lord has shaped me through answering them. Grab a journal, write them down, and see what the Lord will do as you do.
