Our community has been rocked by a lot of unexpected, heart-wrenching loss recently, including a number of deaths of despair. The causes are various, and the situations complex. But the results are heavy and sorrowful for many. In a small(ish) community like ours, losses affect an outsized proportion of the populace, and when a number of them happen within a short time-span, the community as a whole feels the weight.
I wanted to offer a few reflections as I am processing these tragedies, in hopes that they will be of some help and encouragement to others.
People are dealing with more than we realize
How easy it is to think everyone is doing just as they say they are: “Fine.” Our own answers to the question, “How are you?” should clue us in that “fine” is only the tip of the iceberg, and sometimes not a very accurate descriptor. Most people are either currently struggling mightily, or will be soon.
Marriage is hard. Singleness is hard. Parenting is hard. Finances are hard. Friendships are hard. Work dynamics are hard. Staying sane in a crazy world is hard. Not becoming a slave to substances, or equally addicted to food, technology, sex, working out, sports, fantasy sports, or shopping, is hard.
The people we interact with on a regular basis are likely feeling this more than we realize, and more than they let on. They have found Jesus’ words to be true, “In this world you will have trouble” (John 16:33).
It is right to mourn and grieve in times like these
It was tempting to end point one on a high note, but I intentionally didn’t (even though John 16:33 does!). And the reason is that there is a real and valuable place for mourning in this life. Sometimes in times of tragedy, we can be so quick to offer platitudes and truisms, wanting to give hope, but probably just not knowing what to say. And so we blurt out something like, “I’m sure it will all work out,” “You’ll get over it,” “I know just how you feel.”
But even though the Bible is ultimately hopeful, it teaches us that there is a place for mourning, grief and questions that are not quickly answered. Over a third of the 150 Psalms in the Bible are Psalms of Lament: honest cries of pain, confusion, sorrow, questioning. I find it both astounding and comforting that God gives us language to cry out in such times. God doesn’t expect us to just be stoic and push through, but teaches us how to process and express our suffering.
And Jesus himself—God in the flesh—wept in the face of his friend’s death. Even though he was going to raise him from the dead, even though he knew there was eternal life to come, Jesus shed tears when his love one died. We are not called to ignore the pain and confusion of the death of our loved ones.
Friendship and community are so important
We intuitively know the truth of the classic English proverb, “A burden shared is a burden halved.” Life can be incredibly hard and complex and confusing, but if we have people who know us and love us, it makes a huge difference. What a need there is to be a friend to people!
In our day, so much attention is given to the impersonal masses: our social media presence, the movements and causes and injustices currently gaining traction, the politics in DC. And it’s easy to think our opportunities for influence are in such venues. But in reality, where we have the most opportunity for influence is in our daily relationships, starting in our home, and then in our church and community.
What a difference it can make to commit to being a friend to just one person. To being the type of friend that cares enough to ask good and thoughtful questions, including hard questions at times. To knowing someone well enough to press beyond the “fine” response: “No really, how are you?”
God often speaks loudest in our grief
When we are in the throes of pain or loss, it is natural to just want to find comfort and relief, to just get through. But for God’s people, there is always another consideration: What is God doing in and through this pain? C.S. Lewis famously said, “…pain insists on being attended to. God whispers to us in our pleasures, speaks in our conscience, but shouts in our pain: it is His megaphone to rouse a deaf world” (The Problem of Pain).
The Bible is absolutely clear that the pain and suffering and confusion that God’s people experience is never without purpose. God’s will is not only to get us through it, but to use it. And to use it, in part, to give us ears to more clearly hear him, and give us minds and hearts more alert to his presence, worth, and goodness.
God’s providence is so precious
I realize that immediately jumping to speak of God’s providence when people are suffering can be insensitive and unhelpful (hence this is the fifth, and last, point). As already mentioned, there’s a place to sit and mourn with one another, to not propose easy answers or solutions, and to do this for a while.
But long term, I cannot imagine processing a tragedy without a firm confidence in God’s providence. And by providence, I am speaking of his purposeful sovereignty. Here’s what I mean: If tragedy and loss–as well as the pain and heartache we feel as a result–are ultimately random, meaningless, and only attributable to either freak accidents or the decisions of others, then I don’t have much to cling to in my grief. I can be thankful for the sympathy and presence of others who also recognize the senseless tragedy. But ultimately, we are left resting in little more than the conviction that life is hard…at least we have each other.
But what if in tragedy, along with confessing our pain and confusion, acknowledging the many questions we don’t have answers to, and mourning with one another, we also have the hope that God is still ruling his world, and we can trust him? Yes, we wonder how God can be both good and sovereign, and we can still face such pain and tragedy.
But what if—despite our inability to “figure it out”—it is true that we can trust all things to him, even now? Not just as a psychological “trick” to give us relief, but because he is actually present and active, good and compassionate. What if he delights in us turning to him, and bringing all our cares and griefs to him? What if it is his joy to comfort us in our sorrow, heal us in our wounds, direct us in our confusion, and fill us in our emptiness?
As Jesus says, “Come to me, all who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me, for I am gentle and lowly in heart, and you will find rest for your souls.” (Matthew 11:28-29)
God knows we “labor and are heavy laden,” that our souls need rest. And he knows that we will only find true rest in him. As St. Augustine wrote in his Confessions, “You have made us for yourself, O Lord, and our heart is restless until it rests in you.”