The God Who Weeps: Grief, Closure, and the Eternal Embrace

Part 1: The Safe Sound of Silence

Never talk politics at the dinner table so we don’t make people uncomfortable. The older I get, the statement seems to ring more true. My nature is non-confrontational. Maybe society has programmed people—myself included—to behave this way? Schools and businesses supply a list of dos and don’ts. You’ve probably read a code of conduct or policy that says something like this: to treat individuals differently, or to harass or victimize based on a protected classification including race, color, age, creed, religion, sex, sexual orientation, ancestry, national origin, marital status, pregnancy, or handicap/disability. Simply put, don’t talk about these things. Incidental physical, emotional, or mental harm still hurts. Schools were designed for students to learn math, not host religious debates. Families eat dinner to talk about life’s joys, not things that spoil delicious meals. Companies are focused on productivity, not on hearing personal opinions about politics. The dos and don’ts come from a deep societal desire for harmony.

            Societal programming has influenced us. Difficult topics have become part of the dos and don’ts, even when discussed in the right context with the right people. Today, I’m going to push back. Maybe I’ll be a little confrontational—but I won’t be addressing anything explicitly outlined in a code of conduct. Instead, the focus is on something we seem to unconsciously avoid—an unspoken rule, so to speak. The topic we need to speak light into is grief and loss.

            Grief is rarely discussed until tragedy strikes. Schools, workplaces, and even families address it only after events like a school shooting, mass layoffs, or the unexpected death of a loved one. Then it’s okay to talk about grief—but what if we talked about grief before tragedy struck?

            Grieving is not something we do well as a society. It’s not something I do well.  This has led people to grieve their losses in unhealthy ways. They cope through various outlets like sex, drugs, or alcohol. Others do so in amorphous or ungodly ways.  Yet, there is a better way and a way that offers closure.  We all experience grief and loss. It is inevitable in life.  We need to know how to handle it in a healthy way with a godly hope of true closure. Before sharing my own thoughts on how we grieve healthily, I will tell you about my own experience with grief and loss.

From Failure to Grace        

            Last July 20^th, 2024—my birthday—my grandmother “Gran” passed away.  Four days earlier on July 16^th, I woke to unsettling news. My father had suffered a severe stroke. He is still recovering from it today.  My other grandmother “MumMum” passed away 2 years earlier on July 11^th.  At my grandmothers’ funerals, I had the privilege of speaking. After reflecting on these events—in honor of their passing and my father’s ongoing recovery—I wanted to focus on the theme of grief and loss. Unfortunately, during their funerals, I only briefly brought the topics to the surface.  My grief was profound following those emotional days. I mourned the loss of two women I loved deeply. I realize that life with my father would never be quite the same. 

            It may surprise you. Not all my grief was necessarily from the loss of two women I loved deeply.  Both eulogies got a few tears from people.  After my Gran’s funeral, multiple people approached me. They asked, “Are you a preacher/pastor? I think you have a gift.” Months after the funeral, people who did not know me personally would say, “Oh you’re Mickey’s (Gran) grandson that spoke so beautifully at her funeral.”  I’m not telling you this because it made me feel good.  If I am being honest, part of it did.  Yet the moment of self-indulgent gratification quickly turned to feelings of depression. I was grieving the onslaught of compliments because none of them seemed to include Jesus.  Every time I received a compliment I wanted to say, “Thanks, but did you hear about Jesus?!”  Some might say I had what is called “Preacher’s Remorse.”  I missed the mark or did not convey the message clearly enough to the people I was speaking to.  Quickly, I began to second guess everything I had spoken that day.  I believed I had failed.  To get through the grief and lost opportunity, divine intervention was needed.

            A week after Gran’s funeral, I had a divine breakdown.  At the next Sunday morning service, the church worship team played a song.  Little did I know my eyes would soon fill with tears.  If you know me at all, then you know music is not my place of deep, reflective emotional thinking.  The song the band sang that day has vanished from my memory.  So, it was a surprise to me that grief would have this much control over me through something as simple as a song.  I kept saying to God, “I failed!  I failed! Jesus—nobody heard me!” I was grieving what I thought was a lost opportunity to share the good news of Jesus. 

            A poem came to mind and helped give me clarity.  There is a poem called Jesus on the Bathroom Floor, by Dana Trent.  Her message is that even when lying on the bathroom floor sick from the chemotherapy that is supposed to defeat the cancer, Jesus is there! The message to the reader is Jesus meets us where we are spiritually, emotionally, and physically.  In an unexpected moment, Jesus met my grief; clarity overcame my soul. Divine intervention was taking place.  Jesus was gently speaking to my grief, saying, “You have no idea.  I can do so much with so little!” He was right.

            My God is the same God who fed five thousand people. He did it twice with 5 loaves of bread and 2 fish.  What a relief! Jesus is greater than we can ever imagine.  He can do so much more than we can ever dream.  In a loving voice, like a father mending his child’s wounded soul, Jesus said, “Matthew, I’ve got you.”  Jesus put an end to my grief that day. The opportunity to witness the goodness of God was not lost.  I was just in need of the gentle reminder. Jesus is using me as a vessel. He uses us to deliver His message of safety in life’s storms. It doesn’t matter how big or small a boat I sail. Jesus spoke closure into my grief.  He filled the holes in the hull of my heart, which could never have been filled by earthly material.  I am not the only one who has experienced this. This will happen to others. I have not come across a single person who has not experienced grief and loss. Rarely do I find people who are willing to talk about grief and loss. 

            Grief often hides in the dark corners of our hearts and souls. In this series, I’ll do my best to light a lamp in that darkness. In Part Two of The God Who Weeps, we’ll explore what grief really is. We’ll examine how the world’s promise of forever feelings often leaves us wanting.