Good Grief
Job 1:13-19; 2:11-13
2 Corinthians 1:3-7
Gettysburg Presbyterian Church
Rev. Daniel T. Hans
February 24, 2008
This 3rd Sunday of Lent moves us toward Jesus’ death on
the cross. This evening begins another session of our grief support
group. Thus I thought it fitting to preach about the grieving
process since all of us must deal with death and loss at some time
in our lives. Grief is parents extremely proud of their son’s
military service yet deeply pained that in that service they lost
their son. Grief is a young mother struggling to raise three children
alone. Grief is the man so filled with anger over loss that he
strikes out at those nearest to him. Grief is the silent, knife-like
sadness that comes a hundred times a day when you start to speak
to someone no longer there. Grief is the nagging question of why
a pastor decided to leave. Grief is the helpless wishing that things
were different when you know they are not and never will be the
same again. (Edgar Jackson) While grief wears many faces, at its
heart, there is always pain.
The loss of a spouse to death or to divorce, the loss of a child to death or to rebellion, the loss of friend to death or to disagreement, and the loss of innocence to carelessness or to peer pressure, loss is loss; and grief is grief; and we experience both. While grief wears many faces, at its heart there is always pain.
Whatever the loss, the subsequent grief has stages through which it must pass. Both the grievers and those who love the grievers need to understand grief’s process if life is to move forward amid loss. The story of Job is instructive in grasping the stages of grief. For Job, circumstance causes the loss of everything- his children, his wealth and his health. In his struggle with loss, Job moves through five stages of grief. The order of the stages is less important than the experience of all five.
II
To such numbed grievers, how can we, the church, respond? The
best way is by being there with them in their shock. A moving display
of compassion is encountered in Job 2: 13: And [Job’s three
friends] sat with him on the ground 7 days and 7 nights, and no
one spoke a word to him, for they saw his suffering was very great.
I wonder who is sitting with the grieving parents of the students killed
last week at Northern Illinois University. Most of us will admit that when
faced with the need to be with the grieving, we do not know what to say. Nothing
can be said or need be said in the initial stage of loss. Just be there
with them and be there for them.
Helplessness and hopelessness lay siege to the heart, mind, and will. Despite outer shows of strength, grievers struggle with inner despair. This deep sadness must find expression. The best thing we can offer at such times is a listening ear. Listen! Don’t try to offer answers to tragedy; there are none. Don’t think you must say anything; words have no meaning. Ears are far more valuable than mouths when helping the grieving.
Job’s friends sit with him in silence. Their patient, listening presence frees him to speak of his despair. Had his friends continued their patient silence Job would have been greatly helped. However, like so many of us in times of uncertainty, they open their mouths and try to explain the whys of life’s tragedies. By speaking rather than listening, they blow it!
Several months after my daughter died, I was talking with a colleague
in ministry who asked how I was doing. He admitted he had
no words to offer in the face of such a loss. As I shared
my feelings of deep, deep sorrow, he listened patiently. Another
minister, who overheard part of our conversation, said to me, “I
didn’t hear all the details but I gather you lost a child.” I
nodded. Immediately, he launched into a little sermon about how
his faith was strengthened when his child was very ill at birth. In
great detail, he told me all about his situation, completely ignoring
mine. One man listened to my despair; the other spoke of his faith.
Which do you think was more helpful?
When Beth and I left our church in Connecticut to come here, a
church member said with sorrowful anger, “It feels like a
divorce!” Some of you might be grateful that Second Presbyterian
Church in Lexington is taking me from you. Before I announced my
departure from Gettysburg, I had a recurring dream. In this
dream, I stood before you, telling you that Jesus is leading me
to another church. Each time you responded to the news in
the same way, by jumping to your feet and singing: What a Friend
We Have in Jesus! Seriously, some of you, in your grief, are
angry about our leaving.
That is natural and understandable. Please know that each Sunday
in worship Second Church Lexington prays for his congregation and
its loss.
In his anger, Job complained bitterly: God has cast me into the mire and I have become like dust and ashes. I cry to you, O God and you do not answer me; I stand and you do not listen to me. You have turned against me… When I looked for good, evil came and when I waited for light, darkness came. (30: 19-21, 26) Why, God, why? is a natural and necessary response to loss. Regardless of the strength or maturity of our faith, that faith is possessed by human beings. We humans cannot survive without love and when the object of our love is lost we become angry.
As Christians, our anger is often directed at the One we believe
to be all powerful. Know that God can handle our anger. I believe
God welcomes our anger. Anger toward God is a healthy expression
of grief for it helps get out the pain within. If that bitterness
does not come out, it can kill us within. Grief’s anger does
not need religious answers. It needs honest expression and loving
acceptance.
There are: widowers who retreat into yesterday and stay there;
bereaved parents who worship the past by idealizing their child;
divorcees who wallow in the past crucifying themselves with guilt;
and congregations that worship past chapters of their church’s
life or, worse, worship past pastors.
The worst thing that could happen here at GPC is what happened
after I left United Presbyterian Church in Milford, CT. That church
put me on a pedestal making it impossible for my successor to be
successful. You and I can be grateful to God for our time together
but neither you nor I should worship that time.
While we cannot live in the past and we cannot change the past, we must not forget the past for it has shaped us and left its mark. Remembering the past, without living in it, is a positive expression of nostalgia that helps us come to grips with today and move toward tomorrow.
We can assist the grieving by affirming the past and taking the
grieving person back to the past by asking about their loved one.
To help ease the burden of loss, instead of asking only: How
are you doing? ask the grieving person: What was it that
Bill always said about… or recall with the grieving
person incidents in the life of the one who has died: I
remember how Mary always loved to… Because of our faith
in the resurrection, we can help the bereaved by talking about
the dead as being alive. Yet, like the rest of our culture, we
feel uncomfortable doing so. If we truly want to help grieving
people, ask them to tell us about the loss that causes them such
pain. I know it doesn’t make any sense but I know that it
works. The reason it works is that grief is an expression of love.
When we are asked to talk about the object of our grief we are
being asked to talk about the object of our love.
A young mother lost one child at birth. Her other daughter
had a brain tumor. The girl’s future lay under the
shadow of a question mark. Yet, this mother, a Christian,
shared with me a prayer she offered every day: Dear God, teach
us to laugh again but never let us forget that we have cried.
Painful though grieving is, its presence is a lasting tribute of
love to the one no longer with us. Where there is no grief one
wonders if there is any love.
Love is too precious, too permanent an emotion to end when the
loved one is gone. As love endures so grief endures. Does
grief’s enduring nature doom the griever to emotional defeat?
Does personal loss confine one to getting up on the side of the
bed from now on? NO. We can learn to live with grief - to
laugh again even among the tears and to love again even after rejection.
God gives Job a new perspective by reminding him that the mysteries of life are to be experienced not explained. Each person comes to this acceptance of the mystery at her own pace and by his own path. God is patient with Job along the journey of grief. We can best help to the grieving in like manner, by being patient as the grieving move forward on their path at their pace.
In a church where pastors and members come and go, in a nation where one out of two marriages ends in divorce, and in a world where one out of one lives ends in death, grief over loss is inevitable. While painful grief is inevitable, good grief is possible - by the grace of God who is the presence in every absence.
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