Category: Grief

Carrying the Wilderness with You

Hiking was one of the main activities my family enjoyed when I was growing up. Sometimes my dad liked forging his own trails and taking us “overland.” He led the way with confidence, but the paths he chose rarely ended where we expected. I remember one afternoon when we trampled through knee-high, brittle grass trying to find our way back to the car. The sun dipped behind the hills as we trudged along, shivering in the waning light. As we reached the gravel parking lot complaining of aching feet and rumbling bellies, the first stars twinkled in the night sky. That’s probably the closest I’ve come to wandering in the wilderness in a literal sense.

Bible teacher Kristi McClelland explains: “We often think of a desert or wilderness as something we want to get out of. But the Jewish people view the desert as the place where the Lord often meets His people and speaks to them.”1 The Israelites experience this after leaving Egypt under Moses’ leadership. In the desert God shows them His character and demonstrates His care for them. The events they witness reveal the Lord’s power, presence, protection, and provision. A glance at the first four chapters of Exodus provides ample evidence:

-The Lord fights for them: “The Lord will fight for you; you need only to be still.” (Exodus 14:14)

-The Lord surrounds and protects them: “Then the angel of God, who had been traveling in front of Israel’s army, withdrew and went behind them. The pillar of cloud also moved from in front and stood behind them.” (Exodus 14:19)

-The Lord makes a way for them: “Then Moses stretched out his hand over the sea, and all that night the Lord drove the sea back with a strong east wind and turned it into dry land. The waters were divided, and the Israelites went through the sea on dry ground, with a wall of water on their right and on their left.” (Exodus 14:21-22)

-The Lord provides food for them: “The Lord said to Moses, ‘I have heard the grumbling of the Israelites. Tell them, ‘At twilight you will eat meat, and in the morning you will be filled with bread. Then you will know that I am the Lord your God.’” (Exodus 16:11-12)

-The Lord provides water for them: “I will stand there before you by the rock at Horeb. Strike the rock, and water will come out of it for the people to drink.” (Exodus 17:6)

-The Lord protects them from enemies: “Moses built an altar and called it The Lord is my Banner. He said, ‘Because hands were lifted up against the throne of the Lord, the Lord will be at war against the Amalekites from generation to generation.’” (Exodus 17:15-16)

The Israelites’ time in the wilderness gives them tangible, personal, and specific evidence of the Lord’s hand at work in their lives. No wonder Kristi McClelland says the Middle Eastern perspective asks: “How do I carry the wilderness with me?” and “How do I remember the word the Lord taught me in the wilderness?”2

Although I’ve had limited experience wandering in the actual wilderness, there have been many times when I’ve metaphorically found myself in the desert—times when I’ve felt lost, discouraged, and unsure how to proceed. Although they were difficult seasons, I look back on them with gratefulness because of how I encountered the Lord. That’s why Kristi McClelland’s words resonate with me: “In the desert—the wilderness—God meets you and teaches you unique lessons that these dry and barren places frame in a way no other place would. In the Middle Eastern culture, the wilderness is seen almost as a sacred place, a place of intimacy where God speaks a ‘word’ to you.”3  

In the desert of my freshman year of college, the Lord met me in my loneliness and taught me to pour out my heart to Him and He became my closest confidante. During the wilderness of discouragement and depression in young motherhood, God beckoned me to seek Him for comfort and He became my shelter in storms. More recently, I wandered in the desert after an intense season in my life came to a close. Leading up to it, I’d been stretched to the limit for over two years managing care for my mom as her health declined. When she was diagnosed with terminal cancer, four months of daily visits and constant monitoring of her medical needs consumed me. After my mom passed away, my sister and I spent six months sorting the contents of our family home and preparing to put it on the market. 

Although I’d been grieving all along, the magnitude of what I’d experienced fully caught up with me only after my mom’s house sold. Instead of being relieved, I felt untethered, adrift and unsure how to move forward. As I turned to the Lord for wisdom, He coaxed me to rest and grieve. He helped me to see that my constant productivity had shielded me from fully experiencing my grief. He impressed upon me the wisdom of Psalm 46:10: “Cease striving and know that I am God; I will be exalted among the nations, I will be exalted in the earth.” (NASB 1995) My time in the wilderness provided much-needed margin to process, pray, and find comfort in the Lord’s presence. Eventually it also allowed me space to hear from Him and discern what He was calling me to next.

Desert seasons feel disorienting and uncomfortable; we’re not sure which path to take or what our destination will be. We may not enjoy them, but they are incredible opportunities to grow in trusting the Lord. So, instead of asking “Why?” or “How long?” we’d be wise to invite God to teach us and reveal Himself to us. Seeking the Lord in the wilderness instead of rushing through it enables us to grow deeper in faith and equips us with tools we can use and share with others. I’ve seen the God’s power and felt His strength during wilderness seasons in ways I never would have experienced in times of ease and comfort. 

“The Lord drew Israel into the desert and spoke to her there. The place that seemed to only represent barrenness became one of restoration and redemption, of covenant pledge, of love everlasting…The Lord often speaks to His people in a special way in wilderness seasons.”4  Will you let Him do the same for you? 

Click here and be encouraged by Jeremy Camp’s song “Wilderness”

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  • 1. Kristi McClelland, Jesus & Women: In the First Century and Now, Lifeway Press, 2019, 22.
  • 2. ibid, p. 23
  • 3. ibid, p. 22
  • 4. ibid, p. 26

Letting Go

Pulling up to the house, tears welled up in my eyes at the first glimpse of the “For Sale” sign planted in the front lawn. It was yet another catalyst for the grief I’ve been experiencing since losing my mom to cancer six months ago. After sorting the contents of my parents’ home of 45 years, it was time to let it go. Imagining life without it made me feel adrift and untethered. 

I remember when we toured the model homes and chose the lot where our house would be built. I was six years old and the sting of moving was temporarily soothed by the prospect of living in a two-story house in a brand-new neighborhood. However, my enthusiasm waned when construction wasn’t finished by the time school started. Instead of getting acclimated to our new home, we spent six weeks making the 45- minute commute with our dad to our new schools. Every morning a lump would form in my throat and I’d fight back tears when it was time to leave for school. I dreaded being away from the comfort and security of my mom’s presence. My tearful departures didn’t let up until one day when she leaned down to hug me and said, “Even though I can’t be there with you, Jesus can. Just remember that He’s there holding your hand, no matter what.” Her words were such a comfort to me that my tears stopped flowing. Every day after that I’d plead, “Tell me again, mom. Tell me about Jesus holding my hand.” The angst I’d felt at the start of each day soon faded.

Later that fall, we finally moved into our new home. I loved riding my bike to explore the paths that wound through the greenbelt behind our house. Inside, my brothers and I created a “fort” in a small attic space, piecing together carpet remnants on the floor and hanging posters in the rafters. We signed our names on a beam above the small doorway to make it an official “clubhouse.” In later years, my boys enjoyed exploring the fort and adding their names to the others above the doorway, which remain there to this day.

I remember summer afternoons when the whole family would be in the pool. I spent hours attempting to master back flips off the springy diving board. In the evenings we loved watching brilliant sunsets as orange and pink clouds slowly faded to black. Hot summer nights often called for walks in the neighborhood before sitting on the deck to talk and laugh while eating cold watermelon. Later, when we had kids of our own, the backyard was the scene of many memorable celebrations. I still picture my boys and their cousins frolicking in rafts in the pool, swatting piñatas at family birthday parties, and eating homemade ice cream on July Fourth.

The kitchen was the center of activity in our home. For years I did my homework sitting at the large oval table that faced the backyard. I loved to perch my elbows on the counter and chat with my mom as she made dinner. The ritual of meals around our kitchen table was a source of comfort and security for all of us. Despite the large size of our family, eating together nightly was typical. And many times, there would be extra people in our midst—interns from church, visiting relatives, or neighborhood friends. The number of people we could wedge around the table seemed limitless. 

Once my siblings and I grew up and had families of our own, we continued to gather around the table for special occasions. When our kids were little, my mom would fill the kitchen with miniature tables and chairs to accommodate her beloved grandchildren. She didn’t mind how cramped the space became with the extra bodies because she loved having all of us together.

The formal living room was the one place in the house that always stayed tidy. The only time it was messy was on Christmas, which we celebrated there every year from the time I was in first grade until my own children were in high school. I can still picture piles of boxes, gifts, and ribbons scattered around the room.  I also remember watching with envy as my older siblings took prom pictures there with their dates; I couldn’t wait for it to be my turn. A few years later I posed for photos in the living room on my wedding day.

So many memories swirl in my mind when I envision my family’s home, it’s hard to imagine someone else living there. In the days leading up to selling it, my stomach lurched every time I pictured the “For Sale” sign. Letting go of the house triggered grief that left me feeling fragile and vulnerable. It was the last tangible link to my parents and my childhood. Selling it made sense, but that didn’t make it any easier. On the day we signed papers agreeing to the sale, an entry in Sarah Young’s Jesus Calling brought me just the reassurance I needed:

“THIS IS A TIME IN YOUR LIFE WHEN YOU MUST LEARN TO LET GO: of loved ones, of possessions, of control. In order to let go of something that is precious to you, you need to rest in My Presence, where you are complete. Take time to bask in the Light of My Love. As you relax more and more, your grasping hand gradually opens up, releasing your prized possession into My care.

You can feel secure, even in the midst of cataclysmic changes, through awareness of My continual Presence. The One who never leaves you is the same One who never changes: I am the same yesterday, today, and forever. As you release more and more things into My care, remember that I never let go of your hand. Herein lies your security, which no one and no circumstance can take from you.” (March 24 entry)

The words reminded me that my security isn’t based on anything in the world, not even good things like my parents or our family home. One line especially caught my attention: “Remember that I never let go of your hand.” I thought back to my mom’s reassurance to me when I was a frightened first grader starting at a new school. She told me that Jesus would be there to hold my hand, even when she couldn’t be. And she was right.

My childhood home doesn’t belong to us anymore, and I’m making peace with that because my true refuge and security didn’t rest there anyway. Jesus promised: “My Father’s house has many rooms; if that were not so, would I have told you that I am going there to prepare a place for you? And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come back and take you to be with me that you also may be where I am.” (John 14:2-3, NIV) Ironically, one of my mom’s caregivers reminded me of this passage a few days before she passed away.

I’m going to keep putting my hope and trust in the One who provides an eternal home for me: “Yes, my soul, find rest in God; my hope comes from him. Truly he is my rock and my salvation; he is my fortress, I will not be shaken. My salvation and my honor depend on God; he is my mighty rock, my refuge.”  (Psalm 62:5-7, NIV)

Followers of Jesus look forward to the day we’ll finally be at home with our heavenly Father. Even now, He’s preparing a place for us. Enjoy Cory Asbury’s song “The Father’s House” as you celebrate this truth: 

Lastly, take a stroll down memory lane and get a taste of my childhood as you listen to “Our House” by the English band “Madness.” It was released when I was in middle school in the 80’s and quickly became a family favorite. I can still picture my parents dancing to it in our kitchen with goofy grins on their faces. 

Sarah Young, Jesus Calling: Enjoying Peace in His Presence, Thomas Nelson, 2004.

A Different Kind of Christmas

Tears welled up in my eyes as I rounded the corner onto my street and spied my front porch. Two small Christmas trees with twinkling lights stood on either side of the door, replacing fall pumpkins that had been there when I left. Pulling into the driveway, I felt physically and emotionally depleted. The previous five days had been consumed with sifting through the contents of my childhood home–44 years worth of our family’s belongings. Decorating for Christmas had been the last thing on my mind.

Losing my mom to cancer in October has created a significant life shift for me. After dealing with the initial shock and grief of her passing, my siblings and I focused our energy on planning a family graveside service and an online celebration of her life. Once those events passed, the dread of dealing with her affairs and belongings became a reality. So, as my neighbors hung lights on their houses and brought trees inside to decorate, I began meeting my sister daily to clean out our mom’s house. The project drained me and required all of the time and energy I would normally focus on preparing for Christmas.  I didn’t realize how depleted I was until the end of that first week when I arrived home and saw the Christmas trees outside our door. My husband had ushered in the holiday cheer I couldn’t seem to find on my own. The sight of the twinkling trees brought comfort and tears of gratitude in the midst of heavy grief. 

Later, as we decorated the tree inside, the contrasting events of the week overwhelmed me, and the tears started flowing again. Soon, I was crying too hard to hang ornaments. Abandoning the tree, I sank onto the couch, laid my head on my husband’s chest and sobbed. It had been tricky balancing my grief, sorting the belongings in my childhood home, and launching into the Christmas season without my mom. In the background, I was also lamenting how COVID-19 would change the holidays by preventing gatherings with other family members and friends.

Grieving is hard and tiring work. And even if you didn’t lose a loved one this year, it’s likely you’re mourning a loss related to 2020’s pandemic and all of the ripple effects it has caused. So, it may not feel like there’s much to celebrate this Christmas. And yet, as much as we love the gatherings, gifts, decorations, and celebrations, they aren’t the heart of the season. They’re just the signposts of it. At the center of the Christmas is Jesus, God in the flesh who came to dwell among us.

This year is going to look different for many of us. For me, it will be my first Christmas Eve and Christmas day without my mom or extended family at the table with us. And it will also be the first time in 27 years that my husband and I don’t travel to see the other side of our family, thanks to COVID-19.  We have a lot to grieve, but we still have hope. It all goes back to that baby born in Bethlehem over 2000 years ago. 

Throughout this month I’ve been reading a daily advent devotional that is keeping me tethered to truth. Each entry includes Scriptures from the Old and New Testaments that highlight specific aspects of Jesus. The book focuses on the prophecies Christ fulfilled and the blessings we receive because of Him. It’s reminding me there’s still hope and joy for us, even in 2020. So, whether you’re enjoying all the trappings of the season or hurting deeply this Christmas, Jesus’ birth deserves celebrating. Here are a few truths that have especially encouraged me recently:

-Jesus brings light into our world that no darkness can overcome (not even a pandemic or a loss you’re experiencing): “In him was life, and that life was the light of all mankind. The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it.” (John 1:4-5)

-Jesus came to seek those who have no purpose or direction: “For the Son of Man came to seek and to save the lost.” (Luke 19:10)

-Jesus became a man and died for us, so we can be cleansed from sin and have access to God Almighty: “God made him who had no sin to be sin for us, so that in him we might become the righteousness of God.” (2 Corinthians 5:21)

-Jesus came to defeat the devil: “The reason the Son of God appeared was to destroy the devil’s work.” (1 John 3:8b)

-Jesus came to bring us victory over death: “For since death came through a man, the resurrection of the dead comes also through a man. For as in Adam all die, so in Christ all will be made alive. But each in turn: Christ, the firstfruits; then, when he comes, those who belong to him. Then the end will come, when he hands over the kingdom to God the Father after he has destroyed all dominion, authority and power. For he must reign until he has put all his enemies under his feet. The last enemy to be destroyed is death.” (1 Corinthians 15:21-26)

-Jesus came to show us perfect love: “For God so loved the world that he gave his one and only Son, that whoever believes in him shall not perish but have eternal life. For God did not send his Son into the world to condemn the world, but to save the world through him.” (John 3:16-17, NIV)

-Jesus assures us future glory despite our present suffering: “I consider that our present sufferings are not worth comparing with the glory that will be revealed in us… What, then, shall we say in response to these things? If God is for us, who can be against us? He who did not spare his own Son, but gave him up for us all—how will he not also, along with him, graciously give us all things?” (Romans 8:18 & 31-32)

-Jesus gives us peace unlike any peace the world offers. Because of Him, we have nothing to fear: “Peace I leave with you; my peace I give you. I do not give to you as the world gives. Do not let your hearts be troubled and do not be afraid.” (John 14:27)

This year some of the jollier Christmas songs aren’t resonating with me very well. But when I heard “Behold Him” by Francesca Battistelli, I discovered one that captures my feelings perfectly. I hope it encourages you today too.

*The devotional I’ve been reading is Advent 2020 Jesus Christ is Born created by shereadstruth.com.

*All Scriptures quoted from the New International Version.

Stopping the Spiral with Gratitude

We’ve all experienced being victims of circumstance—suffering negative consequences due to factors out of our control. Right now, the most obvious and universal example is dealing with the COVID-19 pandemic. We’re lamenting all the things we’ve lost or struggling with new routines that we don’t want to accept—like starting school online, wearing masks, and following social distancing guidelines. It’s easy and natural to focus on the negative and slip into a victim mentality, bemoaning all the activities we can’t do the way we want. 

Although we justify feeling sorry for ourselves, we may be unintentionally signaling the enemy to lure us into a victim mentality.  Addressing this line of thinking, Jennie Allen explains, “I know. It’s not comfortable to talk about. Especially since there is so much injustice in the world, and there are real victims who experience real suffering…[but] I’m talking more here about spending so much time licking our wounds that we don’t allow them to heal.” (p. 90 & 91)

Nuggets of truth like this keep popping up in Allen’s Get Out of Your Head: A Study in Philippians. The book identifies the primary enemies of our minds and the weapons God gives us to fight them. It’s been powerful using tools she identifies to stop my downward spirals and toxic thoughts.  (Check out my last five posts from this series if you haven’t read them yet.) The enemy of our minds we’ll explore today is victimhood. 

Jennie Allen explains the weapon to fight this kind of thinking: “We can choose gratefulness over victim mentality, because we are not victims of our circumstances; we are survivors, and held by God…We can center our thoughts on the certainty that, no matter what has happened to us, no matter what comes, we are upheld securely by God’s righteous right hand. And that will shift our minds toward gratitude.” (p. 91)

Paul wrote in Philippians: “Do not be anxious about anything, but in every situation, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God.” (4:6, NIV) Usually we focus on the end of the verse that encourages us to offer our requests to God. We tend to skip over the first part that tells us to do this, “with thanksgiving.” Maybe it’s a good idea to thank the Lord for what He’s already done before we ask for something new.

Expressing gratitude to God changes our perspective. It reassures us of His faithfulness to us in the past, helping us to offer new requests with confidence. Thankfulness enables us to trust God is working for our good, even in difficult circumstances. It also reminds us of His unchanging character and directs us to notice His activity around us all the time, bringing unexpected joy. 

Thankfulness doesn’t gloss over hard circumstances, but it does help us to see them in a new light. For me, the past several weeks have abounded with opportunities to experience this. On a Friday evening recently, I sat huddled over a cell phone as a doctor delivered the unwelcome news that my mom has terminal cancer. Just two days later, I stood in the early morning light waving goodbye as my husband and older son began the long drive to Texas. Tears flowed uncontrollably for the next few hours as I began to inventory the losses in my life. I’ve been preparing for both my boys to leave for college and adjusting to having an empty nest for the first time. What I hadn’t anticipated was that their departures would coincide with the final chapter of my mom’s life. My personal world is changing in so many big ways right now that it’s hard to process.

Pausing to feel the weight of my emotions was healthy and good, but it could have easily led me into self-pity and feeling like a victim of circumstances. This overwhelming season has prompted me to lean into God for strength and to find encouragement in His Word. Mingled with the sadness are moments of deep gratitude for the ways I see the Lord working. Thankfulness has been an incredible tool to fight against the self-pity that threatens to consume me.

I’ll share just two of the many blessings that continue to fill me with gratitude lately. First is the knowledge that although my mom’s body is shutting down, her spirit is getting ready to soar. My mom knows and loves Jesus and accepted Him as her Savior many years ago. She’s getting ready to meet Him face to face and claiming the truth of one of her favorite passages in Scripture: “Therefore we do not lose heart. Though outwardly we are wasting away, yet inwardly we are being renewed day by day. For our light and momentary troubles are achieving for us an eternal glory that far outweighs them all. So we fix our eyes not on what is seen, but on what is unseen, since what is seen is temporary, but what is unseen is eternal.” (2 Corinthians 4:16-18, NIV)

In addition to this huge blessing, I’m also grateful for friends who have come alongside me during this sad and stressful time. God seems to prompt different people daily to reach out to me and remind me of His loving presence and care. I’ve experienced profound comfort and tangible support from a number of individuals. I am grateful to God for the blessing of Christian community and the gift of authentic, kind friends who love me well. I understand and identify with Paul’s words to the Philippians: “I thank my God every time I remember you. In all my prayers for all of you, I always pray with joy because of your partnership in the gospel from the first day until now, being confident of this, that he who began a good work in you will carry it on to completion until the day of Christ Jesus.” (Philippians 1:3-6, NIV)

If you’re in a hard season or struggling with COVID-related issues, you may be prone to sliding into self-pity or a victim mentality. Instead, stop and ask God to reveal Himself to you. Pray that He’ll show you one thing that can spark gratitude in you to stop your thoughts from spiraling downward. And if you want to discover hope in the Bible while experiencing Christian community, make time to join a group this fall. Invite someone else who could use encouragement too. Check out this link for a variety of online and in-person options available through CPC Danville.

Listen to “Yes I Will” by Vertical Worship and make it your prayer right now. Let it remind you to fight toxic thoughts by giving God praise.

Jennie Allen, Get Out of Your Head: A Study in Philippians, Thomas Nelson Press, 2020.

The Gift of Empathy

Stepping into line, I clutched my son’s tiny hand and kept my head down as we inched toward his classroom door. The preschool check-in process took a while, but usually created a welcome opportunity to chat with other moms. On that day, however, just walking into the building required excruciating effort. Participating in such a “normal” activity seemed surreal when I felt so raw, exposed, and vulnerable.

Just a few days earlier, I’d sat at my dad’s bedside as he exhaled his final breath. For the two weeks prior to that I’d been consumed with trekking back and forth to see him as he’d received hospice care. I’d been so removed from regular life that it felt overwhelming just dropping off my son at school. 

I assumed most of the moms in line knew I was grieving since I’d received flowers from the class. My sagging shoulders and red-rimmed eyes hinted at my fragile state, yet not one of them acknowledged my loss. I didn’t fault them for it—most of my peers hadn’t yet experienced the death of a parent and didn’t know what to say.

After a few awkward minutes, I felt a hand rest gently on my shoulder. Looking up, a mom I barely knew pulled me in close and said, “I’m so sorry for your loss. My dad died a few years ago– I totally get what you’re going through.” She described the range of emotions she’d experienced, mirroring mine exactly. What a relief to encounter someone who understood my pain.  

In the years since then, I’ve been blessed by other compassionate people who have reached out to empathize with me through different struggles. None of them tried to fix my problems, but they all showed me compassion and understanding. They made me feel seen, heard, and loved. These kind acts beautifully illustrate Paul’s words in the New Testament:

 “Praise be to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of compassion and the God of all comfort, who comforts us in all our troubles, so that we can comfort those in any trouble with the comfort we ourselves receive from God.” (2 Corinthians 1:3-4, NIV)

Painful experiences are fertile ground for receiving God’s comfort. They also enable us to grow in our compassion for people. When we’re going through hardships, we can find hope knowing God will use them to bless others in the future.

Once you’ve experienced true empathy, you’re able to recognize how it differs from sympathy. Empathizing with others means we identify with their pain and connect with them in it. It’s when we say, “I get it, I know how you feel.” Sympathy, however, is like saying “I feel bad for you.” Instead of being a participant in the pain, a person offering sympathy remains a passive observer feeling pity for the hardships of another. While the intentions are kind, it can make a struggling person feel emotionally isolated. If you’ve ever gone through a hard time, you probably know that receiving a person’s empathy comforts so much more than the clichéd words of sympathy.

Sometimes we encounter people in pain and we have no frame of reference to empathize with them. It’s tempting to hold back and say nothing for fear of getting it wrong. However, there are simple tools we can use to respond in caring and sensitive ways that promote connection and understanding. Here are a few I’ve learned:

-Listen to understand, not to respond. Don’t get distracted thinking about what you’ll say next– you’ll miss what the person is telling you.

-Listen for feelings, not facts. Validate their emotions and don’t judge them as bad or good. Focus on the person, not on the details of their situation.

-Be present and patient. Let the struggling person have room to share the tangle of emotions they’re feeling. Get comfortable sitting in silence too. Remember your presence will communicate your support more than any helpful suggestions you might be tempted to offer. People may forget what you say, but they remember the way you made them feel.

-Avoid sharing stories about yourself. This may seem like empathy, but it’s really turning the attention to yourself. Saying “I’ve been there” or “I feel you” is enough. If they want to know more, they’ll ask.

-Don’t offer advice, quick assurances, or comparisons that minimize what they’re going through (ie: “At least….” Or “It could be worse…”). Don’t offer the “bright side” of the situation they aren’t ready to hear.

-Remember it’s not your job to speak for God or to make conjectures about why He’s letting a hard thing happen. Don’t over-spiritualize, preach, or quote a verse attempting to make them feel better. Instead, offer to pray with and for the person.

-Circle back later and see how they’re doing. Ask if there are any specific ways you can be praying. Sometimes after the initial conversation, we check off the “reach out to my struggling friend” box and move on. Difficult seasons can last a long time and most people appreciate ongoing support (to whatever degree you have the bandwidth to offer it.)

Want to learn more about the difference between sympathy and empathy? Watch this two minute video by Dr. Brené Brown.

Singer/ songwriter Toby Mac gives us an intimate glimpse into the pain of losing his son, Truett, in his song “21 Years.” Let it remind you to look at others with empathy and to invite God to use you to comfort them.

Sunshine and Shadows

In one day, Job lost his ten children, numerous servants, and all the livestock he owned, obliterating his family and livelihood. Consumed by grief, he tore his robe, shaved his head, and fell to the ground to worship God saying, “Naked I came from my mother’s womb, and naked I will depart. The Lord gave and the Lord has taken away; may the name of the Lord be praised.” (Job 1:21, NIV)

Scripture tells us, “In all this, Job did not sin by charging God with wrongdoing.” (Job 1:22, NIV)

While Job’s grief was still fresh “Satan went out from the presence of the Lord and afflicted Job with painful sores from the soles of his feet to the crown of his head. Then Job took a piece of broken pottery and scraped himself with it as he sat among the ashes. His wife said to him, ‘Are you still maintaining your integrity? Curse God and die!’ He replied, ‘You are talking like a foolish woman. Shall we accept good from God, and not trouble?’ In all this, Job did not sin in what he said.” (Job 2:7-10, NIV)

What strikes me most isn’t the tragedy of Job’s losses, but his response to them. In his grief, he worshiped the Lord and accepted the harsh turn of events. Does this surprise you like it does me? Praising God through difficult times feels foreign to us. Maybe it’s because our culture seems obsessed with comfort and ease and labels anything that’s hard or painful as bad or wrong. 

Even among Christians, there is a sense that God is good… as long as He does things the way we want. We thank Him when He answers prayers according to our desires and question Him when He implements a different plan. We’ve developed a quiet sense of entitlement, believing we have a right to certain things. We think we deserve a smooth path devoid of obstacles and are injured and indignant when God allows hardship instead. We take the good things in our lives for granted instead of seeing them as blessings. And we question whether God really is good or loving when something hard happens that disrupts what we consider “normal.” We rarely embrace that life is a balance of sunshine and shadows. Instead, we become doubtful, cynical, or self-pitying when dark clouds obscure our bright skies.

Sometimes we forget that the Lord deserves praise regardless of our circumstances. We focus on what He does or doesn’t do instead of who He is. I remember being struck by this realization many years ago when I witnessed parallel tragedies with opposite outcomes. In the span of two years, two little girls I loved faced dire situations: one was diagnosed with a brain tumor and the other almost drowned. Both spent time in the hospital ICU with grim diagnoses. One ended up losing her life; the other made a full recovery. Both came from families of faith who had prayed for miracles and trusted God to do what was best.

I don’t know why the Lord chose to heal one while allowing the other to die. It remains a mystery why one family got to resume their “normal” life, while the other was altered forever. Despite the opposite outcomes, both families accepted the pain God had allowed and grew deeper in their relationships with Him. Their trust in the Lord was inspiring and had a ripple effect on everyone who knew them, and many who didn’t.

These incidents gave me a fuller understanding of the Psalmist who says: “My soul finds rest in God alone; my salvation comes from him.  He alone is my rock and my salvation, he is my fortress, I will never be shaken” (Psalm 62:1-2, NIV ‘84) As followers of Jesus, we understand that salvation and security lie outside the realm of circumstances. Whether earthly events turn out well or not, our true hope has an eternal perspective because death cannot separate us from God. 

There is a temptation to spend so much time questioning the Lord in hard times that we miss the opportunity to trust Him and let Him comfort us.  We wrestle with doubt and ask, “Why is God letting this happen?” Meanwhile, we overlook the places where He is showing up; where He is giving us tangible answers. Being consumed by self-pity also causes us to miss the ways He wants to teach and refine us through painful times. Additionally, it means we bypass chances to show others His goodness. In God’s economy, pain shouldn’t be wasted like this.

We can’t forget that no matter what hardships we encounter in this life, God wins in the end.  The Psalmist states it so clearly: “Because your love is better than life, my lips will glorify you. I will praise you as long as I live, and in your name I will lift up my hands… On my bed I remember you; I think of you through the watches of the night.  Because you are my help, I sing in the shadow of your wings.  My soul clings to you; your right hand upholds me.” (Psalm 63:3-4,6-8, NIV ‘84) Ultimate hope doesn’t come from expecting God to turn circumstances in our favor; it comes from knowing His love is better than even life itself. Trusting His hand to hold us up and remembering that He walks with us through the darkness gives us the comfort we need. Because of His presence, we can find joy in the darkness– not a happy, smiling, giddy kind of joy, but a deep, peaceful assurance that He is in control and always has been.

Beloved author and preacher Oswald Chambers wrote: “We imagine we would be all right if a big crisis arose; but the big crisis will only reveal the stuff we are made of, it will not put anything into us… Crises always reveal character.” When we put our trust in God and walk with Him daily, when we seek His face, study His word, and obey Him in humble reliance, we will see Him molding and shaping our characters little by little.  At the same time, He will be revealing His character and His goodness to us. And when trouble comes, we’ll continue to trust Him and give Him the praise He deserves.

“Yes I Will” by Vertical Worship is a song of defiant praise during hardship. Let it fill you with renewed hope today.

Oswald Chambers, My Utmost for His Highest, Discovery House Publishers, 1935, 1963, Sept. 10 entry.