Aug 31, 2014
Good Grief
9-1-14
How many of us have attended church services where the pastor, or perhaps a WalMart-style greeter (some larger churches today have designated Hospitality Pastors) flashes the salesman-white smile and asks everybody how they “are”? Assisted by throat-microphone and ubiquitous large-screen image confronting the audience, the minister often follows with the robotic demands: “I can’t hear you! Good morning!! I want to see everybody smiling!!!”
It seems to have been forgotten by today’s commercialized and cookie-cutter churches that, sometimes, people go to a church to cry, not to laugh. To be reverent and contemplate, not to be jolly and high-five. To approach the altar-rail and be prostrate before the Lord, not to dance. It is a fact that many pastors will earmark a portion of every sermon for jokes, even trolling the internet for the designated yuks. Hellfire and brimstone have been replaced by face-painting and cotton candy.
As a confirmed class clown, I hasten to specify that I am not a sourpuss. Even in church. But it does bother me that the Joy that is our birthright as Christians – which once, in American Christianity, itself succeeded “hard preaching” and judgmentalism – has been replaced by fluff and counterfeit emotionalism.
Joy, indeed, is our unique blessing; not mere happiness, but spiritual joy. But that cannot mean that life’s other emotions are radioactive. Life’s negative aspects can, at the least, teach us lessons. And other elemental emotions – I nominate Grief in this discussion – are part of life, too. And as we cannot avoid grief, it is best to deal well with it.
Scripture tells us that Christ Himself was “a Man of sorrows, and acquainted with grief” (Isaiah 53:3). In part we can assume it was so Jesus could identify with us in every particular. But I believe it was also to show us that grief and sorrow are parts of life as common as inhaling and exhaling… and how He dealt with them.
I have recently dealt with sorrow and grief, but claim no special burden over others; whining does not become a Christian. But my ears have tuned in to ministrations of others as Christians deal with grief. Random eavesdropping:
“Me? I have two children here and one in Heaven.”
“Pop, don’t feel bad about not grieving heavily. You grieved for Mom while she was alive.”
“Oh! Mourn, honey; don’t hold back the tears. God’s comfort will be sweeter.”
And a new friend from the Philadelphia Christian Writers Conference, telling me of an unbelievable succession of recent accidents, diseases, and deaths among her family and friends, uttered the wisest words I have heard in many months:
“We must not let anybody steal our grief.”
Of course we are used to being warned against those who would steal our joy. But grief is neither foreign nor malignant. It can be healthy, if we let it. Certain emotions we must release: easily said. But more than that, grief can allow us to appreciate things more, even as we miss them; to love people better, even in their absence; to add to our lives… even when it seems like we have lost pieces of our lives.
To suppress grief, or deny the healthy process it requires of us, is really only to postpone it. I do not say we should invite it – surely it is more bitter than sweet when it visits – but, rather, we should befriend it. It is part of life, which by God’s plan in its totality, we must meet unafraid, without apologies, and with a bold, conquering spirit.
“We share abundantly in Christ’s sufferings, so through Christ we share abundantly in comfort too” (I Corinthians 1:5).
The poet Longfellow put his refusal to let anybody steal his grief in these words:
“Life is real! Life is earnest! And the grave is not its goal;
Dust thou art, to dust returnest, was not spoken of the soul.”
+ + +
No offense to the feel-good style of today’s churches, but it has always been true that tears are a language God understands. He sees us when we laugh, but hears us when we cry. I believe our tears are prisms through which He sees into our souls… and we see Him better.
I, too, miss the church of the past when every service ended with prayer at the altar. When you could bring your burdens to God, and others would gather around to pray for you. When you could cry until you couldn’t cry anymore, and then pour your heart out to those around you and be encouraged by their love and words of counsel. There doesn’t seem to be time for all this in church, anymore. Even at the designated prayer time, we hesitate to go forward because we know the time allotted is only enough to open the flood gates. Then we’ll be required to stuff all the feelings back inside, put on a smile, and shake hands with our neighbors. I once journaled that I never feel so alone and sad as when I walk out of church-my mask firmly in place. Something is definitely wrong with that picture.
Your friend said, “We must not let anybody steal our grief.” No one can truly understand grief until he walks through it. Some say inappropriate or awkward things to a grieving soul. They are doing their best, in love. Innocent ignorance, but with love. God bless them for that.
My grief continues after five years. This embarrasses me. Why can’t I let go once and for all and move forward? And yet, I have moved on to the extent I am ready. Grief is just a messy process with no defined timeline.
But we, as grievers and as those who comfort the grieved, must take it upon ourselves to find a setting in which to share this grief. In these days, it will most likely not be during the church setting. But people do care. People are willing to meet with us and share our burden. Often they know not because we ask not. I think an equal caution to that of your friend would be to not allow ourselves to deny and postpone our grief. For unresolved grief, as with any painful emotion, only intensifies with time.
There are times that I miss the dim lighting of the church I grew up in. It’s harder to get real with God in a room full of people with the lights on. I can’t cry here, they’ll see me and ask me if I’m okay and I’ll say “yes”, even though I’d like to say “Obviously not, I’m crying!” I like the idea of embracing our grief as part of our life; that grief has value.
Ah, he meets us in our sorrows, doesn’t He? Thank you for reminding us of the “fellowship” of grief. I’m so thankful that even though no one can process it for us, neither do we walk it alone.
WISE, Brilliant and beautiful . . . as always. THANK YOU, Rick!
I so agree with Barb Haley’s comment. That’s the kind of church I grew up in & so miss those things, as well!
The mission of the church is to offer salvation to the lost, to restore the fallen, to encourage those who have lost heart, to befriend the lonely, to offer ourselves in service to others. Prayer is the place the church needs to gather and pray for the sick, the grieving, the desperate. The church is what we choose to make it. We need to ask oursleves, “What is my purpose and plan for being here in this church today? Why did I come? Will this place or myself be different when I leave here? Did I come to worship the Lord?”