Since 2014 I've struggled through every first month of the year. Nine years ago January 18 I heard these life-changing, gut-wrenching words. "Josh is dead." His 35 year old heart had failed in the early hours of the morning, Thus began my journey through the the worst grief imaginable--the death of your child.
I said it often during those first days and months through the vale of tears--"Grief is great; grace is greater." Almost a decade later, I echo the testimony of others acquainted with such grief. The grief is still great. The loss still hurts. You don 't get over it. Less tears fall from your eyes to be sure as life rolls on, but the pain still lingers and the anniversary date proves ever so challenging.
Each year I sense some measureable growth in my understanding of how I can testify that yes, the grief is still great, but the grace of God is still greater. I am thankful to say, by God's grace, that I do not grieve as some who have no hope (1 Thess. 4:13). In this post I want to share some ways that the Lord has and is helping me to grieve redemptively.
I own my feelings and share them with others. I process rather than stuff my emotions. That said, I do choose wisely my confidants--safe people who love me and know me best--but they calendar my fight for faith every January 18 and never let me forget their partnership in the battle. First among them, Jan, my beloved. Second among them, my armor-bearers in Orlando who have already texted and called me in the last 24 hours to assure me that I have their prayers. No one battles grief on this scale successfully without Onisephorus-like support (2 Tim. 1:16).
I intentionally seek my comfort in God and his inspired word. My eyes opened around 7:30 AM today. I instantly thought--it's January 18. I asked myself beneath the comforter warmth, "What must I do to redeem this day?" Answer: take it to Jesus--the same thing I do every day. And wouldn't you know it, the sharper than two-edged sword did not fail. For there in my regular through-the Bible-in-a-year reading schedule came 2 Kings 4:18-37. The Lord pointed me through this Old Testament account to Jesus who will one day raise every soul from the dead (John 5:25-29). My hope is fixed on that hope and it rests ultimately there in every loss and gain in this life.
I get out of myself and pray for others. Over the course of my thirty-plus year vocational ministry, I have served many other dear believers whose children have died and I have heard of way too many others who have experienced the same. This morning I attemped to remember as many of them as I could possibly recall and prayed for comfort in their journey through loss. Even as I write this, the Lord brings to mind households I missed! The list is way too long for my earthly liking, but I keep my hand over my lips where it belongs (Job 2:10).
I choose to spend time with my forever family. It's Wednesday. I'm a Baptist. You know, perhaps, what Baptists always do on Wednesday? We go to church. We have Bible study and prayer meeting. If I'm honest, I admit thinking today of all days I earn a pass. I'll stay home. I'll take a break. Please understand, I don't mean to say that such might not make the best prescription for someone else at any given point--especially early on in the grief process--but as for me and this house I need my forever family (Matthew 12:46-50) tonight. I plan to attend.
For anyone still with me through this pain of loss, I commend the video below. It contains a song sung at Josh's memorial service and the words of my long-distance mentor, John Piper, who has taught me to pursue the supremacy of God in all things--including massive loss--for the joy of all peoples--including this poor man (Psalm 34:6).
Until next year, Lord willing.
Grief is still great; grace is still greater (2 Cor. 12:9-10).
