Category: Grief

How to lament

I was feeling a bit overwhelmed the other day. Life had me pinned in a corner and the ref didn’t see me trying to tap out. I started looking through scriptures to find passages that could helped me digest my feelings.

I started reading Lamentations 3. I have not spent a lot of time reading Lamentations. It is not a book I know well. Daniel, I’ve read many times – it’s my favourite. But Lamentations, no.

I got about 20 verses into this chapter and I thought, “Holy smokes, this is a bit over the top.” Modern man seems to feel the need to curb our sense of self-pity. I will cry and feel sorry for myself for a bit, but I put parametres around it and often start to think of others who are worse off. At this point in the chapter there didn’t seem to be any breaks or boundaries. Just full out cries of anger and despair, blaming God.

About 20 verses in the tone shifts. Even in the face of this suffering and wailing God is still good. God is still worth waiting on. I’m not sure what lesson to take from this. There are obvious cultural differences as well as the deeper meaning of the book as a whole with which to grapple.

Maybe it helps me see that we can cry out to God, he’s big enough to take it!

Lamentations 3: 24 I say to myself, “The Lord is my portion;
therefore I will wait for him.”

A different kind of courage

What do we think of when we think of courage and bravery? I think of taking a stand, going into battle or working hard to overcome an obstacle. I think of the passage in Ephesians chapter six exhorting the reader to ‘put on the armour of God.’

But sometimes we require a courage of a different kind. The bravery that comes with endurance and suffering. I know several people who are walking this path now. The lonely, ugly, thorny path where you are faced with horrible news. An illness in the family, a marriage dissolving, a tragic event; the kind of news that is beyond repair. These are situations where there is nothing to do but keep breathing and walking.

This is the hard part of life. The part where there are no answers. We sometimes struggle to see the point in the suffering.

Jesus offers something very special to this group of people. He doesn’t offer human solutions, or rites or activities to get you through. He offers so much more. He offers himself.

When we find ourselves mired down in the tragedies of life we can reach for Jesus, and he will carry our burden.

Matthew 11: 28-30 “Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy and my burden is light.”

As low as it can go

What do you do when you have nothing left? Your pride has been stripped. You have nothing to offer the world. You are naked and alone.

What do you do when the world has beaten you down and even those you love abandon you, walk by unprepared to get into the mess that you inhabit.

The good Samaritan did this. He did what others wouldn’t. He fed and clothed and cared for another.

We tell this story from the point of the Good Samaritan. We emulate and try to be like him as Jesus instructed. But maybe we are the man beaten on the ground. Maybe we need to be helped.

I need a saviour. I need someone willing to pay the price.

Luke 10: 35 The next day he took out two denarii and gave them to the innkeeper. ‘Look after him,’ he said, ‘and when I return, I will reimburse you for any extra expense you may have.’

Middle

What does it feel like to be a person that the world has forgotten?

It feels like a child standing in a great crowd, unsure of whom to trust, or where to go. Surrounded by thousands but yet all alone.

It feels like a hiker half-way up the mountain side. Staring up in defeat at the hill yet to climb. But looking behind realizing he’s gone too far to give up.

It feels like a mother in the middle of the night, rocking her baby, desperate for sleep, but still protecting the sleep of others.

There is a profound loneliness in the middle.

At the start of a battle people come to help, anxious to see you through the fight. At the end, people will cheer you on, realizing you are close to victory. It’s the middle that is the problem. The middle is the hard slog through the muck. It’s not exciting or interesting. No one else can do this part for you. Step by step you plod through the middle, while the world goes on with their business.

The middle is lonely.

Psalm 25: 16 Turn to me and be gracious to me, for I am lonely and afflicted.

Home

I’m longing for home

Today more than most

The sun shines on my face

The tears stream noiselessly down my cheeks

One day

No tears, no anger, no frustrations

One day

I’ll be home

For now, I wait

Lonely, battered, bruised

I wait for healing

I wait for love

I wait for peace

I will be safe

I will be home

one day

A moment in time

I was driving around today trying to match a piece of kitchen tile. My travels took me east. I found myself driving down a road I used to travel often. I now have little reason to drive that direction. The road was so familiar and the route so pleasant in its memories that I felt sad.

I felt the loss of the past. The loss of happier times. Time and distance remove much of the bluster and fuss that comes with daily life. We look at the past as someone looking through a telescope. It’s way over there, confined to the view of the lens. It’s beautiful and free of close up grit of life. The past is far enough away that you can’t see the dust lingering on the lamp shade.

I felt sad. I forgot the stress of the time and remember the joy. Like the Israelite people who moaned to Moses, “They said to Moses, ‘Was it because there were no graves in Egypt that you brought us to the desert to die? What have you done to us by bringing us out of Egypt?'” (Exodus 14: 11)

They all knew that their lives were bad in Egypt, but their current situation seemed so absent of hope that the present felt worse. In the same way I longed for the past as I drove over the smooth wide road. But we can’t go back. Even if we could, it wouldn’t be what we remember. So we carry on.

We move forward putting our trust in God and having faith that he is leading us to the promised land.

Thoughts on grief

The other day I was walking the dog. As I walked along all bundled up against the cold; I realized that my sock was falling off inside my boot. You know this feeling. I’m sure you have had this happen to you.

It’s such an uncomfortable feeling. It can impact how you walk and it becomes the upper most thing on your mind. It was all I could think about. I was almost home, so it was at least a short-lived experience.

It struck me that this is what grief is like. Grief of a lost relationship, or a death of a loved one, or of a life you used to have. Grief is a hidden problem you carry around. You are keenly and always aware of the hurt. It is not visible to others. You limp along keeping it foremost in your mind. Yet on the surface it seems all is well.

Grief is like the sock coming off in your boot.

When I got home, I took the socks off. Actually, they came off as I took my feet out of my boots. Relieved to have the inconvenience removed.

In the same way I can pray for God to help lessen my burden. I can pray for him to light a lamp on my path. I can lean on Him.

Psalm 147: 3      He heals the brokenhearted and binds up their wounds.