When Grief is at Your Door
I was on a train from Port Huron to Chicago when my phone started ringing. I was trying to sleep, so I ignored the first call, but after the second alert, I checked to see who was so adamant about talking to me that early in the morning. It was my brother. “Odd,” I thought. He’s not a big phone talker, and he’s in a time zone behind me, so it’s even earlier for him. Better pick it up.
Through sobs of distress, he relayed the news, “Allison died last night.” I know we exchanged more words, but the rest of the conversation was a blur. I was shocked, my head was spinning, and I was stuck on the train until the next stop. My sister, only 31 years old, had a heart attack. She lived in Mexico, and we lived in Michigan, so we couldn’t rush to her husband and daughter to process together. We gathered what family we could, tried to make sense of the details we had, and planned our travel.
Grasping for some handlebars to clutch as I moved forward, I called some friends who had experience with loss. I needed some advice. I remember hoping for some magical wisdom while talking to my friend, Mindy, “I don’t know how to do this,” I pleaded. “What do I do?” I had never experienced death so close to home, or pain of this nature, and I was desperate for some steps to take, instructions, and a way to move forward.
Mindy responded truthfully: “Hand in hand with Jesus,” she told me. “That’s how you do it.”
I hadn’t been around much grief. And as a follower of Jesus, I’d spent plenty of time contending for healing, chasing joy, and building my faith, but hardly any time learning what the Bible says about sorrow, death, and loss. Death never arrives when you’re prepared for it. There is no convenient time to lose someone you love. But at 29 years old, facing the loss of my sister, I was desperate to find my footing.
“This can’t be happening,” I thought. “Maybe there was a misunderstanding or a mistake.” Denial.
I couldn’t say that God was good without feeling like a liar, and I questioned how He could let this happen. Anger.
I was a more mature believer than my sister. Why not me instead of her? I was more ready to go. Bargaining.
At that time, I didn’t know these thoughts and feelings were part of the grieving process, nor did I know how to fit them in with my faith. Only later did I realize that grief and lament are woven through Scripture as an essential part of the human experience. The book of Lamentations, for example, is devoted to a nation’s grief, repentance, and questions. The nation of Judah was being deported after being taken over by Babylon. Judah’s people were losing more than land; they were losing their culture, food, family ties, and even their ways of worshiping God. The book of Lamentations offers a clear view of the people’s devastation over this tremendous loss.
Several Psalms are dedicated to lament. In Psalm 10, David asks, “Why, Lord, do you stand far off?” After my grief, I found Scripture’s honesty refreshing and relatable—the pain, confusion, and frustration resonated with me.
Even more so, I needed the hope offered amid suffering. The voicing of complaints and raw emotion is often accompanied by praise. At the end of Psalm 10, David says, “You, Lord, hear the desire of the afflicted; you encourage them, and you listen to their cry …”
The heart of Lamentations, especially in Chapter 3:20-33, beautifully reflects this hope during times of loss. The passage states:
20 I well remember them, and my soul is downcast within me.
21 Yet this I call to mind and therefore I have hope:
22 Because of the Lord’s great love we are not consumed, for his compassions never fail.
23 They are new every morning; great is your faithfulness.
24 I say to myself, “The Lord is my portion; therefore I will wait for him.”
25 The Lord is good to those whose hope is in him, to the one who seeks him;
26 it is good to wait quietly for the salvation of the Lord.
27 It is good for a man to bear the yoke while he is young.
28 Let him sit alone in silence, for the Lord has laid it on him.
29 Let him bury his face in the dust—there may yet be hope.
30 Let him offer his cheek to one who would strike him, and let him be filled with disgrace.
31 For no one is cast off by the Lord forever.
32 Though he brings grief, he will show compassion, so great is his unfailing love.
33 For he does not willingly bring affliction or grief to anyone.
Scripture expresses heartfelt human mourning alongside God’s compassion; honest anger, and questions alongside reverence for the Creator. God is present with every thought and emotion, not rushing us to the next stage of grief or telling us to move on faster, but giving us time and space to reconcile our losses.
Fast-forward in my life about 10 years. Another sudden loss; this time, my dad. My dad passed away within 24 hours of having a stroke. Again, I was shocked and devastated. I still questioned, I still asked why, I still bargained for more time, and I wept terribly. The sadness was different, as every loss is unique, but it was certainly just as painful. But this time I had some experience, Scripture, and hope to cling to. I had a place to ground my feet as I stepped into grief and mourning. What a gift.
I am learning to grow closer to the Lord in my sorrow through honest lament. I am learning to acknowledge His presence during painful moments, and to recognize grief as the result of loving well. I am learning to lean on my community during hard, faith-shaking moments and not to mourn alone. I am learning not to rush through difficult questions and emotions. I am learning to offer whatever stage of life, season, emotions, and pain I am feeling back to God in worship, even when it doesn’t look or feel very spiritual at all.
As Christians, we believe death is not the end. We believe the Lord will one day wipe every tear from every eye; there will be no more sickness, death, or mourning, because the Lord will make everything new. And so, we trust Him with both our life and our death. So, if or when you find yourself in a time of lament, I hope this helps you grieve with hope.