The Compounding of Grief

 “There is no downside for me leaving. 

Not in the slightest.” Tim Keller

 A little over a week ago, on May 19^th, pastor and author, Tim Keller died after a long battle with pancreatic cancer. The Church around the world mourned. I know that I did. What a testimony some of his last words were: “There is no downside for me leaving. Not in the slightest.”
  Keller wasn’t just a pastor, he was also a gifted theologian and author. He had a burden for the city and the lostness of our great urban communities. He was the founding pastor of Redeemer Presbyterian in New York City and the author of several bestselling books. His books always stretched me. I particularly loved his book on marriage and his deep love for his wife, Kathy, along with his transparency about his own marital weaknesses.
  A little over a week ago in our own community a 16-year-old boy bypassed the emergency warning system at a railroad crossing and was struck by an oncoming train. It was heartbreaking. As I was called to the scene as the police chaplain, I felt totally inadequate. In the face of such a horrific tragedy, there are no words.
  Unless you understand how compound interest works, you’ll be puzzled by grief. When it comes to financial wealth. There are at least two ways to grow wealthy. You could have an inheritance or a lump sum dropped on you. You're poor one day, and have millions in the bank the next day. You’re rich! Or you learn to take advantage of compound interest. For instance, you put $1,000 in the bank when you're a teenager, then you deposit $100 every week for a few decades. By the time you’re fifty, even though there hasn’t been any huge sum dropped, the interest of those small consistent deposits has made you rich in wealth.
  Grief works in a similar way. You might lose a loved one (a huge lump sum payment). Or you grow up in a broken family with chronic bickering. Maybe there is a divorce. Maybe a parent is an addict. You never feel safe. Those small traumatic deposits of hurt are so regular that by the time you’re middle-aged, you find yourself very rich in grief. Grief’s buildup isn’t about lump sum payments of catastrophe as much as it is small painful deposits that are consistent as sundown.
  In 1991 Gerald Sittser, his wife, Lydia, and their children were driving through Iowa when a drunk driver hit them at 85 mph. Gerald lost his mother, his wife, and a four-year-old child in an instant. He sat beside an isolated highway and watched them die. Eventually, he authored a book entitled A Grace Disguised: How the Soul Grows Through Loss:
  “Catastrophic loss by definition precludes recovery. It will transform us or destroy us, but it will never leave us the same…It is not true that we become less through our loss – unless we allow the loss to make us less, grinding our soul down until there is nothing left. Loss can also make us more. I did not get over my loved ones; rather, I absorbed the loss into my life until it became part of who I am. Sorrow took up permanent residence in my soul and enlarged it…One learns the pain of others by suffering one’s own pain, by turning inside oneself, by finding one’s own soul…The soul is elastic, like a balloon. It can grow larger through suffering.
  Life is characterized by loss. If you’ve not yet faced a significant loss, you will. It usually starts with a grandparent or an elderly relative. Eventually, it will be a spouse. It could be your child.
  For the believer, the losses that threaten to overwhelm can enlarge us, deepen us, offer us something unforeseen. Unexpected blessings can follow loss. Hope follows grief. Character follows the furnace in which character was forged. Our Heavenly Father is in control and has blessings for us even in loss. We do not grieve “as others who have no hope” (1 Thess. 4:13).
  These are not wasted times for the child of God. It’s like a compost pile. As we throw scraps on the pile, we see the broken husks of things that were once full of life but are now empty shells. It seems as if their story is over. But give it time – from that which was dead will spring new life.
  God is able to salvage the broken parts of this world and our lives. Romans 8:28 promises, “All things work together for good for those who love God and are called according to His purpose.” It’s the story of the Bible. God uses these painful situations so that we’ll be “conformed to the image of His Son.” How can grief conform us to the likeness of Christ?
  Compassion. It’s called redemptive pain. It’s the highest and best use of your pain. “[God] comforts us in all our troubles so that we can comfort others. When they are troubled, we will be able to give them the same comfort God has given us” (2 Corinthians 1:4 NLT).
  Maturity. It makes us very cognizant of the fragility and temporariness of this life. It opens our eyes to realize that this world is not our Home, people matter more than things, time is precious and that the truly good things in life are not found in money, or health, or entertainment, or fame.
  Mystery. The Bible never explains why God allows us loss in a particular instance. There are broader principles: free will, a sin-filled world, God’s glory, and our spiritual growth. But our specific pain may not be known until after the fact, maybe not until we’re finally Home and can see reality clearly. Yet we do know that if you trust Christ for your salvation, you’ll spend eternity in heaven with God. It’s that hope that sustains you even through the valley of the shadow of death and terrible loss.
  Community. Loss is one of the greatest opportunities for the church to be the church. Suffering enables us to more fully “bear another’s burdens, and so fulfill the Law of Christ” (Galatians 6:2). As we pass on the comfort of God, we in turn are comforted. We gain an appreciation for the community of the broken, journeying together toward a resurrection. We recognize the importance of the moment. We take risks we might not have taken because we know life is a vapor. Some things must be done now or they might not be done at all. We reach out and look up more than ever.
  Heaven. God comforts us with His promise of a place with no more pain and no more tears. Heaven will be a reunion beyond anything experienced in this world. No wonder Paul writes, “Do not lose heart for our light affliction, which is but for a moment, is working for us a far more exceeding glory that outweighs them all…” (2 Corinthians 4:16-18).
  Believers never say, “goodbye.” We say, “Good night…I’ll see you in the morning” and what a glorious morning that will be!

Can we help you spiritually? Please check out more resources on our church's web page, Gracechurchwi.org. Or call us at 262.763.3021. If you'd like to know more about how Jesus can change your life, I'd love to mail you a copy of how Jesus changed my life in "My Story." E-mail me at Carson@gracechurchwi.org to request a free copy. Please include your mailing address. 

 

 

 

Walking with someone through the Valley of the Shadow of Death

 

“Man, when he does not grieve, hardly exists.”  Antonio Porchia

  The average American experiences a personal loss of someone in their immediate family only every 15 to 20 years. Think back on anything else that you experienced just once in a fifteen years period. Now add trauma, hurt, shock, pain, tears…a level of grief nearly beyond words. Anyone who thinks they’re ready for the pain of loss is deluded. The waves of various emotions that transpire in one's own heart are nearly impossible to voice.  

  Yet, for some reason, particularly when it comes to grief, Americans have often bought into a “just get over it” or “let the healing begin” mentality. Perhaps it's because we have a pill or program for nearly everything. When it comes to grief, there is no magic pill or transforming program. Grief is like major surgery. The best healer is time and it usually takes lots of it. With a healthy approach to grief, pain lessens over time but I don't think it's ever quite gone. And would we really want it to be? I lost my Mom over forty years ago and I still miss her. I'm not depressed about it, but I miss her and so look forward to seeing her again. Perhaps, that's one reason the Bible tells us that in heaven, God will wipe away all of our tears.

  Yet, it seems today that there are complications previous generations didn't typically have to deal with. Because of the fragmentation and frequently, the disintegration of the family, at least of a traditional family with a Dad and Mom married to the same partner for life. Add to that, there are often siblings or even half-siblings who the parents have sometimes sought and sometimes not, to cobble together into some sense of a "family." Prior to the loss, there’s often anger, hurt, bitterness and other unresolved issues. Add in substance abuse, cohabitation…a divorce or two and it's a potential recipe for an unmitigated disaster.

  So how is a Christian to be a Christian in the midst of the changing morass of complicated family relationships, yet also dealing with the tragedy of loss and grief? I don't believe that there are black and white answers, nor do I feel like I am an expert. Yet, I believe there are some valuable and general principles to help each of us be Jesus in a hurting world and act Christ-like as we navigate these unchartered waters.

  First, just go. Sometimes that's impossible. Yet, if at all possible, go to the visitation, go to the funeral. Just your presence will have a healing effect. It may be a fog for the ones most hurting, yet they will often remember you came. Our culture moves at a frenetic pace but you can’t touch someone who’s hurting in a hurry. There may be jagged feelings. Perhaps, you’re not only dealing with your own sense of loss, you find that you feel tense…even a pit in your stomach at the thought of interacting where has been personal pain or unresolved issues. Still go. There’s something about loss though that heals old wounds and draws us together.

  Fewer words are usually better. Just because you’re there, doesn’t mean that you have to say "just the right thing." Some of us can't handle silence. It makes us uncomfortable, yet, it's usually better to say less than more in times of grief. What the one most hurting needs is your presence. Just the fact you are there and that you care speaks volumes.

  Be proactive. Grief shocks us. We find we’re unable to think, concentrate, even function. Those who are normally competent and problem-solvers may feel paralyzed. This can be a time to offer to help with the basics, simple things like washing dishes, making a meal, or picking up groceries.

  I've found being a channel of communication is always appreciated. The one who’s feeling the greatest sense of loss often has difficulty making those dreaded yet necessary phone calls. They find they have little control over their emotions and each repetition of the loss can feel like they’re going through heart surgery again and again. It's better too if someone learns of the death of a friend or loved one more than once, rather than assuming they must surely know. It's amazing that with our countless means of communication there are so many glitches in our communication.

  If you know someone is close, personal communication is best, not e-mail or Facebook. Tragic news needs to shared tenderly, clearly and carefully. It's also unwise to conjecture or hypothesize. Stick with what you know are facts. If you’re on the receiving end, be careful about asking unnecessary questions. With the recent loss of my brother, someone who was at best a distant friend, asked very pointedly, "How did he die?" What did it matter?

  Add to that, there’s often a sense of false guilt. It may be with a loss like my brother's, something to the effect, "He said he wasn't feeling good, I should have insisted that he go to the doctor." But my brother was nearly seventy and was fully capable of either taking himself to the doctor or insisting that someone take him.

  Be a peace-maker. Jesus said, “Blessed are the peace-makers” (Matt. 5:9). If there are broken relationships you’re aware of, seek to be a bridge builder. Remember and help others to remember the good. Seek to carefully bring people together. The person is gone. Most hurts and unresolved issues need to go with them. It's a time to remember the good and best, not drag up the worst.

  Finally, be prepared yourself. Sudden, tragic death is a reality. Would your loved ones know your wishes? If unsaved family members will be making your final arrangements, be very clear. Your funeral will be your last opportunity to share the Gospel. Do they know where important papers are? Is your life insurance, will, etc. up to date? The recent loss of my brother was a warning for Jane and I that we need to take care of a few important items.

  If you have a terminal illness, don't wait until you’re too weak or medicated to have those important conversations and make important decisions. Solve potential issues of conflict while you’re alive, rather than leaving your loved ones to guess or worse, squabble when you’re gone. If there’s tension between your loved ones now, it will only devolve when you’re no longer around to umpire. So please make those important decisions now so there aren’t potential landmines later.  

  The Bible continually warns us to be prepared for inevitable death. Are you? Is there someone you can reach out to that is going through these stages of grief? Let's be Jesus to each other.