Grief.
It sucks. There, I said it. I know “sucks” is a word I was taught a good Christian doesn’t say, but whatever, sometimes I can’t think of a less profane word for it.
When I interned as a hospital chaplain two summers ago, I came face to face with grieving people all the time. Some people were grieving over their own conditions and others were grieving the conditions of their family members. I remember the first time someone died, unexpectedly, on the floor where I was assigned to work. The patient had been in an accident, seemed to be recovering fine, and then all the sudden something went wrong and he died. His family walked onto the floor and all I remember is wailing and confusion. I think they might have been coming for a visit when they saw the crash cart by the door, but maybe they’d been warned. I’m not sure. Either way, they were in incredible grief. When I came in the room after a while to pray with the family, one of the daughters was laying over her father’s body and just crying “why, why, why?” I had no idea. All I could say is, “I don’t know. I’m so sorry. I don’t know.” And then we prayed.
Grief isn’t always unexpected and it isn’t always over death, or even sickness. Sometimes we grieve over lost opportunities. Sometimes we grieve over the loss of relationships. Sometimes we grieve over things that surprise us because we didn’t realize that thing was actually important to us.
Sometimes grief comes alongside happiness. I have two friends who had babies in midst of their partner’s struggle with a serious illness. Sometimes when twins are born, one survives, but the other doesn’t. I’ve heard of college students, thrilled about college life and all its new experiences, who go home for the first time to find out his or her parents are separated. The joy of the one thing may not lessen the grief of the other, and vice versa. It’s a weird tension to live into.
We have a hard enough time trying to figure out how to deal with our own grief, but most of us have a very hard time knowing what to say to someone else who is grieving. I was upset about a missed opportunity the other day, and because the situation made some people uncomfortable, one responded with a joke and others with “it just wasn’t God’s will.” They were trying to help, but it didn’t help at all. It just frustrated me. I’ve heard people tell children that someone died because “God needed another flower in his garden” or “God needed another angel in his choir.” I think these responses, while well intended, are harmful and can cause lots of theological problems in the way people understand and relate to God… but that’s a whole other can of worms. Suffice to say, I don’t believe God wills a mother of three young children to die of cancer because she had a pretty choir voice. I just don’t think God is that petty or cruel and I think it is wrong to lead a grieving person into thinking so.
I don’t think there is an easy answer for grief. As a Christian, if I can pull myself out of the paralysis that sometimes comes with grief, I find myself drawn to prayer, scripture or both. I don’t mean that I always offer long, well-thought out prayers or a long drawn-out study or reading. Sometimes my prayers resemble quick, thirty second cries for help. My Scripture reading often consists of me looking at the Psalms, searching for one that shares my lament or expresses a glimmer of hope.
When my friends or those around me are grieving, I cling to something the apostle Paul said to guide my response: “Rejoice with those who rejoice, weep with those who weep” (Romans 12:15 NRSV). People want you to be sad with them, just as they want you to be happy for them. When you finally walk across the stage to get your Meredith degree, you don’t want to hear a family member complain about the trip to Raleigh or how they stepped in goose poop on the way to the amphitheater (because goodness knows, they probably will!). By the same token, a grieving person doesn’t want you to make light of their situation, even if you are trying to make them feel better.
Grief is hard on a personal level and it’s hard to watch someone else go through it, but I don’t think we are meant to grieve alone. I actually think that grieving alone can make for a long, hard road and can actually be quite harmful, maybe even dangerous. I’ve heard some people say “God doesn’t give you more than you can handle,” thinking of 1 Corinthians 10:13, which says, “No temptation has overtaken you except what is common to mankind. And God is faithful; he will not let you be tempted beyond what you can bear. But when you are tempted, he will also provide a way out so that you can endure it” (NIV). While I do find myself clinging to and repeating 1 Corinthians 10:13 in the midst of temptation or testing, I think it is a misapplication to assume this passage means you’ll never be overwhelmed beyond what you can handle alone. I think one of the reasons God puts other people in our lives is so we can help each other. Some burdens are too much for me to handle, but when my sister helps me, I can get out from under what seems to be crushing me and move, even if it’s just a little bit. If you read Galatians 6, I think you can see the same sort of idea (even though I don’t think the original context had to do with grief, I’m taking some interpretive liberty). Sure, there are things you and I are meant to handle on our own, but some things require help. Sometimes the only way to bear things is with help.
Grief is a hard process that will take time and may not be very easy. If you are a person of faith, draw upon that faith. And when someone dear to you is grieving, even though it is hard, be present with them in their grief. Sometimes you don’t have to say anything at all. Just be there.
My perspective on coping with grief is informed by a specific Christian upbringing, by the specific communities and churches I’ve been a part of, and by my own particular experiences. Mine may not be yours. Mine may not be every Christian’s perspective either. So, what do you think? How has your faith informed the way you cope with grief in your life or in the lives of others? If you aren’t a person of faith, how do you cope with grief?
The comment section is open… comment away! Let’s hear what you think. (Please note that this is not the place for proselytizing, bashing or trying to prove your way or faith is the best. Please be respectful. I reserve the right to delete comments that don’t follow these guidelines.)
Peace,
Michelle
Peace,
Michelle
