The Grace of a Day

I had the privilege of getting to attend the Southern Baptist Convention in Baltimore, Maryland last week, and from there my family and I traveled to New York City. We returned home early Tuesday morning, and began making preparations to return to normal life. We were greeted by the excited meowing of our cat, Gandalf, as we entered the house. He then proceeded to pester me for attention.

We got Gandalf when he was a kitten. Although he was several weeks old, he hadn’t had much human contact and had a bit of a wild streak. In order to tame him, I would hold him for long periods of time. This level of attention forged a bond between him and me that he never outgrew. Anytime we would go away for an extended period, I was certain to find him happy to see me and desperate for my attention.

I could always count on him to stalk me for days (often weeks) after every trip. If I sat down, he would sit near me (or on me). If I got up and went to the next room, he would follow me. He would lay by me when I went to bed, and get up when I got up. If I was able to escape his constant presence, he would begin to meow in a deep, mournful way that seemed to say, “Where are you? I’m lonely.”

Over the course of the last twelve years, this pattern had been repeated on numerous occasions. Gandalf was most affectionate the days following a return from an absence. There would be days of nudging and nuzzling and stalking. During a normal day, it wouldn’t be unusual for Gandalf to rub his face against my hand or leg once or twice. Experts say this behavior is a cat’s way of marking the object they are rubbing as their own. Yet in the days after I had returned from a trip, he would rub against me countless times. I always understood it to mean, “Mine! Mine! Mine! Now you can’t leave again.”

Although we had affection for one another, we didn’t always get along. Gandalf was, after all, a cat. He wanted attention when he wanted it. He bit me on more than one occasion because my feet crowded “his space” on my bed. Gandalf didn’t meow much on a normal day, unless he wanted food or snacks. But when he did meow, he just wouldn’t quit. I never enjoyed his nagging.

When we returned home Tuesday, nothing surprised me about Gandalf’s behavior. The noise, the stalking, the rubbing—it was all normal. He even kept with tradition and pestered me to pet him while I was trying to go to sleep (which I obliged because I was, after all, happy to see him too). When I got ready to leave for work Wednesday morning, there he was meowing in my shadow as he traced my steps from room to room. As I closed the door, I imagined he would pass the long day napping as he awaited our return.

We returned home from church a little later than usual. Sophia sprang into the house as I opened the door blazing past a sleeping Gandalf. But something wasn’t quite right. He didn’t move. He didn’t flinch. He was still as a stone. And I knew. I hoped I was wrong, but I knew. He was gone. His body was cold and stiff to the touch. Gone. Just gone. No notice, no warning. As full of life and energy as a 12 year-old cat can be in the morning, and 12 hours later he was gone.

As I reflected on our time together, I couldn’t help but wonder, “Why now?” Why couldn’t he have lasted a little longer? But as I thought about it, I realized God had given me (and Gandalf) a day. A day to renew our affections. A day to share. Had I realized that Tuesday would be our last day together, a weary traveler would have found obsessed cat’s nagging less annoying. I would have lingered a little longer while scratching him behind the ears. And in that realization, I knew the grace of a day. Reflecting on that day, I have learned a few things:

1. Time is short. People (almost) always assume they have more time. We plan for futures we are not promised.

2. Make the most of every day. Yesterday is gone. We might be left with good memories or regrets, but we can’t change the past. Tomorrow isn’t promised. Live today like it is the most important day of your life.

3. There is no shame in crying. Whether tears of joy or tears of sorrow, there is no shame in shedding tears.

4. Enjoy it while it lasts. The circumstances of our lives are always changing. The old saying warns, “Don’t blink or you might miss it.”  I was reminded by a man recently to make the most of Sophia’s childhood, because it would pass before I realized it.

5. God’s grace is sufficient for all our needs. Whether we are dealing with loss—of a family pet, a family member, a job, etc., He is enough. He is even enough when we are dealing with the outpouring of his favor. If our hopes and fears are anchored in Christ, we have more than we can ever need.

 

Good Grief

Hardship is a natural part of life of life in a fallen world. As God's children, we are called to comfort those who mourn. We need to develop the skills necessary to aid others in their grief.  Although their behavior and attitudes in the rest of the book of Job don't display wisdom, we can learn wisdom from the examples of Eliphaz, Bildad, and Zophar from Job 2:11-13.

Let's look at what they got right:

1. When they heard of Job's troubles, they sprang into action. They got together and went to show their support. We need to show our support and bring comfort to those in need.

2. They entered into Job's grief. When they saw their friend, but couldn't really recognize the man they knew and loved, they openly grieved. They wept loudly. They tore their clothes. They put dirt on their heads. All of these things indicated a deep, sincere grief. They hearts were breaking for Job.

3. They gave the gift of time. They sat with Job for seven days and nights. They just plopped right down next to him at the village dump. Job need someone to share his burden, so they joined him.

4. They gave him the gift of silence. During their seven day stay in the dumps, none of Job's friends spoke. They waited for him to break the silence. His heart was wounded, and they knew that no words could heal it. So they waited.

If they book would have ended here, Eliphaz, Bildad, and Zophar would have been heroes. Their methods of grief counseling would be legendary. Unfortunately, they had to open their mouths and ruin it with horrible accusations and bad theology.

Eliphaz, Bildad, and Zophar have shown us what we should do (and what we should not do) to help those who are grieving. If we follow the example they give us in Job 2:11-13, we will help to facilitate good grief in our communities. How do you help those around you, who are hurting?

A Grieving Heart

I can't seem to shake this sadness.  It feels as if there is a tornado raging in the space between my heart and my gut, ripping my soul to shreds.  But the pain is not mine.  I keep thinking of the heartache now endured by people close to me.  Loss. Broken dreams. Tears.  In reality, it would be unnatural, unholy not to feel this sorrow.  It is impossible to watch one we love being wounded so deeply, and not be affected.

I yearn for their comfort.  I desperately want some insight into the reasons behind these events, but I am certain that I will probably never really get those answers.  This time of darkness will most certainly serve a more noble end, although we cannot see that end just yet.  To paraphrase Joseph's statement to his brothers, "Satan meant this for evil, but God meant it for good."  Death is not a good thing.  It is not what was intended in the original design of humanity.  Death enter the world through Adam's rebellion.  But just as Adam's sin brought death, so Jesus' death brings life.

In seeking to comfort some grieving souls today, I reminded them of what the psalmist said in Psalm 46:1, "God is our refuge and strength, a very present help in trouble."  They were, and are, also a balm to my own heart.  As our refuge, the Lord is a place in which we hide and find protection.  He shields us from the effects of Adam's sin, and from the effects of our sins as well.  As our strength, he enables us to endure under the burden's of life, because he has promised us many great and precious promises.  He cannot break his promises.  As our very present help, he walks with us, dwells in us, and works through us to bring about his glory.

My heart is heavy for the hurt my friends are enduring, but hope resides there as well.  I know his love for them is unquestionable.  He demonstrated his love for us through Christ's death on the cross.  My faith is not shaken, but my heart is stirred.  I have found myself more prayerful, more reflective.  I keep praising the Lord for the grace he has so clearly shown us, and I keep asking him to give me the wisdom to trust his grace even when I can't see it as clearly.  I also keep praying for those who are hurting, knowing that God is with them and loves them with a love greater than mine.

Seasons of Grief

 This article was originally published here, on November 25, 2008.

 "Whoever sings songs to a heavy heart is like one who takes off a garment on a cold day, and like vinegar on soda" (Prov. 25:20, ESV).

What does this proverb mean? What is Solomon trying to tell us? More importantly, what is the Holy Spirit telling us?

It appears that there is a conspiracy to minimize grief. Stand in line at a funeral home and it won’t be long before you hear someone say, "God has a plan in this," or "God is in control" or "Eventually it will get better" or some other well-worn, good intentioned cliché. From experience, I can say, that walking through the line and greeting the family is always difficult for me. I want to comfort them. I hate that they hurt. I am made uncomfortable by their discomfort and I am afraid I may cry (this fear is a vestige left over from my life before Christ that seems almost impossible to shake). I often say the only thing that will come out, "We are so sorry for your loss. We’ll be praying for you all." I want to escape this discomfort, and experience has taught me I am not alone.

Grief is a solemn reminder that all is not well in our world. Death is not natural, even though it currently operates within the natural order. Humanity was intended for more. Grief seemingly functions like a person coming and going freely in the lives of those it has stricken. For some, grief is a nearly constant companion; although, never a positive one. For others, grief is more like an unwelcomed house guest rushed away at the first opportunity. Is all grief bad? I mean bad in a moral sense. Is grief sin?

Speaking of Jesus, Isaiah prophesied that he was "a man of sorrows, and acquainted with grief" (Isa 53:3, ESV). During his final hours Jesus told his disciples, "My soul is very sorrowful, even to death" (Matt 26:38, ESV). These passages demonstrate that grief is not, in and of itself, sinful. Jesus never sinned, but he did know grief. Therefore, since grief is not bad in a moral sense, we need to avoid minimizing it. Grief is a powerful means appointed by God to bring about some greater end. Or it may be better to say that God has order circumstances in such a way that he can bring about good from even the worse situation (i.e., the cross).

The experience of grief is like coming to a crossroads in life. As Yogi Berra allegedly said, "When you come to a fork in the road, take it." Grief presents us with two distinct alternatives. It will either drive us to God, who alone is sufficient to help us, or it will drive us away from God in search of something else--something that will ultimately leave us worse off than when we started. Some may be inclined to argue that there must be other alternatives. However, Jesus strips us of such arguments when he states, "Whoever is not with me is against me, and whoever does not gather with me scatters" (Matt 12:30, ESV). Exodus 20:2-3 remind us that there is but one God, he alone must be served.

It is important to understand the positive role suffering plays in the life of a believer. Paul states, "We rejoice in our sufferings, knowing that suffering produces endurance, and endurance produces character, and character produces hope, and hope does not put to shame, because God’s love has been poured into our hearts through the Holy Spirit who has been given to us" (Rom. 5:3-5, ESV; see also James 1:2-4, 2 Pet. 1:3-11). Paul also states that God comforts us "so that we may be able to comfort those who are in any affliction, with the comfort with which we ourselves are comforted by God" (2 Cor. 1:4, see 2 Cor. 1:3-11). Thus, the Scriptures teach us that grief (suffering or affliction) is used by God to shape our character and faith, as well as, to equip us to minister to others who grieve. Therefore, any attempt to minimize grief short circuits the process.

Grief, and the emotions that come with it, create within the griever a vacuum. It leaves them searching for something to anesthetize their pain, to rescue them from their situation, and to help them carry on. This response is natural and is often used by God to draw his people to him (see 1 Sam. 1:10; 2 Sam. 22:7; Neh. 9:27; Pss. 4:1, 6:7, 13:2, 18:6, 25:17, 31:7, 9, 55:4, 81:7, 106:44, 107:6, 13, 19, 28, 118:5, 120:1; Isa. 26:16). 2 Chronicles 15:4 states, "but when in their distress they turned to the Lord, the God of Israel, and sought him, he was found by them" (ESV). In essence, grief has the power to be a good thing, if it draws us closer to God. If in our grief we are sent scrambling for God, then we will find in him our all-in-all.

This truth brings us back to Solomon’s words, "Whoever sings songs to a heavy heart is like one who takes off a garment on a cold day, and like vinegar on soda" (Prov. 25:20, ESV). The Spirit is saying through Solomon that the wise know that there is a time for grieving (see Eccl. 3:1-8). It is cruel and aggravating to stop the grieving process short of its goal. There is a place for encouragement, but sometimes we need to just mourn with the mourners. Ask questions, seek understanding, listen attentively, and when appropriate, gently point them to God. Don’t feel the need to correct them for expressing their grief. Give them the benefit of the doubt, but if necessary, gently remind them of God’s grace and his love for them. Don’t talk about you and your experience too much. If you are moved to tears, let them flow. Allow their pain to affect you, and ask God to use you as an agent of comfort.

Wisdom instructs us to distinguish between those who are grieving in a healthy manner and those who are grieving in an unhealthy manner.  Bitterness and apathy are often signs of unhealthy grief. These people have become stuck in grief like a boot in thick mud. Some people wallow in grief allowing the loss to define them. Others consciously deny grief while being slowly eroded away by feelings of despair. As believers, these options are not open for us. We know that we are not to grieve like those who have no hope (1 Thes. 4:13). We know that the things we suffer are not worthy to compare to the glory we will receive (Rom. 8:18; 2 Cor 4:17-18). And we know that the Lord will remove our sorrow (Isa. 51:11; Jer. 31:13, 25; Rev. 21:1-4). Until our final foe, Death, is cast into the lake of fire, we will continue to mourn. However, we must always remember that God is willing and able to comfort us. The next time you are in line at the funeral home; don’t worry about what to say. Instead, pray that God will grant the grieving the wisdom to draw close to him. Pray that he will comfort them as only he can. Pray that at this crossroads of life they choose to run to Jesus. Then when it is your turn, let them know that you love them and are praying for them.

Seasons of Grief

"Whoever sings songs to a heavy heart is like one who takes off a garment on a cold day, and like vinegar on soda" (Prov. 25:20, ESV).

What does this proverb mean? What is Solomon trying to tell us? More importantly, what is the Holy Spirit trying to tell us?

It appears that there is a conspiracy to minimize grief. Stand in line at a funeral home and it won’t be long before you hear someone say, "God has a plan in this," or "God is in control" or "Eventually it will get better" or some other well-worn, good intentioned cliché. From experience, I can say, that walking through the line and greeting the family is always difficult for me. I want to comfort them. I hate that they hurt. I am made uncomfortable by their discomfort and I am afraid I may cry (this fear is a vestige left over from my life before Christ that seems almost impossible to shake). I often say the only thing that will come out, "We are so sorry for your loss. We’ll be praying for you all." I want to escape this discomfort, and experience has taught me I am not alone.

Grief is a solemn reminder that all is not well in our world. Death is not natural, even though it currently operates within the natural order. Humanity was intended for more. Grief seemingly functions like a person, coming and going freely, in the lives of those it has stricken. For some grief is a nearly constant companion, although never a positive one. For others grief is more like an unwelcomed house guest rushed away at the first opportunity. Is all grief bad? I mean bad in a moral sense. Is grief sin?

Speaking of Jesus, Isaiah prophesied that he was "a man of sorrows, and acquainted with grief" (Isa 53:3, ESV). During his final hours Jesus told his disciples, "My soul is very sorrowful, even to death" (Matt 26:38, ESV). These passages demonstrate that grief is not, in and of itself, sinful. Jesus never sinned, but did know grief. Therefore, since grief is not bad in a moral sense, we need to avoid minimizing it. Grief is a powerful means appointed by God to bring about some greater end. Or it may be better to say, that God has order circumstances in such a way that he can bring about good from even the worse situation (i.e., the cross).

The experience of grief is like coming to a crossroads in life. As Yogi Berra allegedly said, "When you come to a fork in the road, take it." Grief presents us with two distinct alternatives. It will either drive us to God, who alone is sufficient to help us. Or it will drive us away from God in search of something else, something that will ultimately leave us worse off than when we started. Some may be inclined to argue that there must be other alternatives. However, Jesus strips us of such arguments when he states, "Whoever is not with me is against me, and whoever does not gather with me scatters" (Matt 12:30, ESV). Exodus 20:2-3 remind us that there is but one God, he alone must be served.

It is important to understand the positive role suffering plays in the life of a believer. Paul states, "We rejoice in our sufferings, knowing that suffering produces endurance, and endurance produces character, and character produces hope, and hope does not put to shame, because God’s love has been poured into our hearts through the Holy Spirit who has been given to us" (Rom. 5:3-5, ESV; see also James 1:2-4, 2 Pet. 1:3-11). Paul also states that God comforts us "so that we may be able to comfort those who are in any affliction, with the comfort with which we ourselves are comforted by God" (2 Cor. 1:4, see 2 Cor. 1:3-11). Thus, the Scriptures teach us that grief (suffering or affliction) is used by God to shape our character and faith, as well as, to equip us to minister to others who grieve. Therefore, any attempt to minimize grief short circuits the process.

Grief, and the emotions that come with it, create within the griever a vacuum. It leaves them searching for something to anesthetize them to their pain, to rescue them from their situation, and to help them carry on. This response is natural and is often used by God to draw his people to him (see 1 Sam. 1:10; 2 Sam. 22:7; Neh. 9:27; Pss. 4:1, 6:7, 13:2, 18:6, 25:17, 31:7, 9, 55:4, 81:7, 106:44, 107:6, 13, 19, 28, 118:5, 120:1; Isa. 26:16). 2 Chronicles 15:4 states, "but when in their distress they turned to the Lord, the God of Israel, and sought him, he was found by them" (ESV). In essence, grief has the power to be a good thing if it draws us closer to God. If in our grief we are sent scrambling for God, then we will find in him our all-in-all.

This truth brings us back to Solomon’s words, "Whoever sings songs to a heavy heart is like one who takes off a garment on a cold day, and like vinegar on soda" (Prov. 25:20, ESV). The Spirit is saying through Solomon that the wise know that there is a time for grieving (see Eccl. 3:1-8). It is cruel and aggravating to stop the grieving process short of its goal. There is a place for encouragement, but sometimes we need to just mourn with the mourners. Ask questions, seek understanding, listen attentively, and when appropriate, gently point them to God. Don’t feel the need to correct them for expressing their grief. Give them the benefit of the doubt, but if necessary, gently remind them of God’s grace and his love for them. Don’t talk about you and your experience too much. If you are moved to tears, let them flow. Allow their pain to affect you, and ask God to use you as an agent of comfort. Wisdom instructs us to distinguish between those who are grieving in a healthy manner and those who are grieving in an unhealthy manner.

Bitterness and apathy are often signs of unhealthy grief. These people have become stuck in grief like a boot in thick mud. Some people wallow in grief, allowing the loss to define them. Others consciously deny grief, while being slowly eroded away by feelings of despair. As believers, these options are not open for us. We know that we are not to grieve like those who have no hope (1 Thes. 4:13). We know that the things we suffer are not worthy to compare to the glory we will receive (Rom. 8:18; 2 Cor 4:17-18). And we know that the Lord will remove our sorrow (Isa. 51:11; Jer. 31:13, 25; Rev. 21:1-4). Until our final foe, Death, is cast into the lake of fire, we will continue to mourn. However, we must always remember that God is willing and able to comfort us. The next time you are in line at the funeral home; don’t worry about what to say. Instead, pray that God will grant the grieving the wisdom to draw close to him. Pray that he will comfort them as only he can. Pray that at this crossroads of life, they choose to run to Jesus. Then when it is your turn, let them know that you love them and are praying for them.