The Reality Of Grief.

During this past month, 3 people I know have lost loved ones. One death was expected, but the others were not, and none of them were related to Coronavirus. Yet, its impact has been felt in terms of how these people deal with their losses. The usual conventions of families visiting, friends bringing hugs, cakes and casseroles, and well attended funerals and memorial services are no longer permitted. We can express our condolences over the phone, or even stand at the edge of a garden path and speak from a distance, but we can’t do the thing that comes most naturally – pull that grieving soul into our arms for a warm embrace. Each funeral can only be attended by a handful of people, meaning even the closest relatives are sometimes robbed of their chance to say goodbye.

There is a lot of loss at the moment. The numbers of those dying of the virus daily are astronomical. It pains me when I sit and contemplate that each of these people was someone’s husband, wife, son, daughter, grandparent or grandchild. We are a grieving and hurting world, and for many, I’m sure the situation must seem scary and hopeless.

However, as Christians, we know that death is not the end. All 3 of the people I eluded to at the start of this devotional knew Jesus as their Lord and Saviour, so while their families mourn, they are more alive in heaven than they ever were here on earth. My aunt had cancer, so she is pain free. An elderly friend struggled to walk, and I can imagine him running and leaping with his Saviour. There are glorious heavenly reunions as they become re-acquainted with Christians who went on before them. They can sit down with all the amazing characters we read about in our Bibles, like Moses, Abraham and Paul, and ask all the questions they like. Truly, heaven is a wonderful place, far better than this sin-filled earth, but it isn’t the dead we feel for now, but the living.

On the night my dad went to be with Jesus, I felt something of his joy. I also had a tremendous sense of gratitude and relief, because I had no doubt that he was in heaven. Yet, I still grieved. Part of me still wanted him to be here with me, while another part was thankful for the end of his pain and suffering. I think, if we were to be truly honest, we all feel the same way when someone we love goes to heaven.

I am not going to write here about those who don’t know Jesus, except to say that I firmly believe the Bible makes it clear that we have a choice to make, and that choice has consequences. I have lost family and friends who didn’t profess faith in Jesus, or some who never made their faith choices known to me. I felt an even deeper sadness at their loss, yet I also know that even during the last moments of a person’s life, if they choose Jesus, he will accept them into his eternal kingdom. I believe that as long as there’s life, there’s hope, and all I can do is pray those people chose wisely, even if it was right at the end. Remember the thief who hung on the cross beside our Saviour. He chose to believe right at the last minute, yet Jesus still promised that very day he would be with him in paradise. (Luke 23: 43.) I pray we will have many wonderful surprises in heaven, as people tell us of revelations of faith during their final breaths. Yet, if we choose not to accept the gift he died to give us we have to be real about the consequences.

While there is nothing more we can do for those who have died, I believe there is much we can do to comfort the grieving, despite the current limitations on physical contact. A friendly voice on the end of the telephone often means a lot. Even if we’re unsure of what to say, we can listen, and draw alongside the person in their suffering. When Job’s friends sat silently with him for 7 days after he lost his family and possessions, they did far more good than when they started speaking.

The Bible has much to say about grief because it is a sad reality of human existence. I do not think anyone will live a long life without losing at least one person they have been close to. In his sermon on the mount in Matthew 5, Jesus said: “Blessed are those who mourn, because they shall be comforted.” (Matthew 5: 4.) These words show us that mourning is important. Despite popular opinion that Christians have to be happy all the time, we need to recall that Jesus himself wept at the tomb of his good friend Lazarus. (John 11: 35.) The Saviour knew he was about to raise his friend from the dead, yet he joined in with the grief of Lazarus’ family and friends, aligning with mankind in our sorrows as well as our joys.

Psalm 56: 8 says: “You keep track of all my sorrows. You have collected all my tears in your bottle.” I love this idea of the Lord having a bottle in heaven in which he collects all my tears, because this means they are precious to him. I have been told this imagery comes from a custom of the day, where mourners at funerals had tear bottles, and the more tears that were in the bottle, the more it evidenced their care for the deceased. Those bottles were then buried with the person, as a mark of love and respect.

Finally, we know that “Weeping may endure for the night, but joy comes in the morning.” (Psalm 30: 5.) How long the night lasts will depend on the individual, and it is important we do not try and rush people through their grief process. Since we are all different, we will all grieve in different ways, but one day, joy will return. It may come back fleetingly at first – just small rays of sunshine in an otherwise cloudy sky, but one day, probably when we least expect it, the sun will come out again in all its fullness. We will be able to think of those we love with a smile on our faces instead of tears, and the happy memories will begin to override the sadness. In the meantime, we can hold onto Jesus, and allow him to comfort us as we mourn.