I don't know how people grieve without Jesus in their lives. I don't know how they process all the questions, how they find hope for something new, how they vent, grow stronger, move forward.
Because I was reminded the other day, that every grief is deeply personal. As much as people tell you you are not alone, no one else had the relationship with the one you lost that you had.
My therapist asked me to tell her about my relationship with Savannah Veale the other day. I didn't want to do it. It was so deeply personal to me--all the memories I have, conversations shared, life experiences digested, laughter, suffering, tears, stories, adventures. All the things about her life that Savannah shared with me are unique to only her and me. Even shared events with others, like family vacations, even though my family was there with us, sharing those memories with her and with me, we will all remember different pieces of time, different moments, different conversations from the same experiences. Not my husband nor my children had the same relationship with her that I did, not because any of us loved her more or less but because every single relationship between two people is unique to those two people.
Therefore, when you grieve your loss, you ultimately grieve it alone because the only other person you shared that same relationship with is gone. It is this reality, the loneliness of grief, that can be so hard to understand and so impossible for those watching to step into.
But for God. Except for Jesus. He knew....knows her! He knows me. He knew....knows the meaningfulness of our relationship, the depth, the importance.
And He has never left my side. He has taken the brunt of my anger and tongue lashings. He has stood with me, never flinching, and let me beat on His chest and sob and ask why over and over and over again until I can't ask why anymore.
Not once has His presence left me. He rubs my back and rocks and holds me when I cry, catching all the tears in His bottles, never letting one go unseen. Even in my hardness of heart, when I turn to hide from hope, when I want to numb out of life and not feel anymore, even in those pits, He stays with me. He crawls inside and whispers He is there. I am not alone. He sees me. He sees my pain, and He knows why I hurt. so. much.
Only He heard all the prayers I prayed over Savannah's health and safety for years. Only He had sat in that room with just the two of us every week for a year, trying to find joy in her circumstances. Only He saw me stand alone in the hallway at the hospital, not family, not friend, but somewhere in no man's land. Only He saw me break down, utterly and completely, mourn and weep outside the hospital, alone. He saw me gasp for breath through the tears. He saw my body shake and heave in the overwhelming tidal wave of her death. Only He knows how often I relive that day and that experience and my relationship with her over and over again in my mind.
And while I can share these things now, I can reveal details of my love and my pain to try and help you understand, to help me process, the truth is, no one actually ever will understand except my Jesus. Because He saw us both, and He saw it all.
Yes, He has been the one I've blamed the most. He has been the one I've wrestled for answers, but He has also been the One who is faithful to show up and be present and Who knows how I personally struggle with all of it. No matter how angry I have become at Him for taking her, He is ultimately the only one who knew why it hurt me so much to lose her. So in the end, when I need to talk to someone who knew her and knew me and knew our relationship, I end up talking to Him.
People, friends, can step into this arena of pain and understanding only from the perspective of a loving, sideline fan. The ones who have stepped into the pain with me, have tried to wade in the waters with me, they are life preservers that I appreciate and cling to and need, but Jesus is the breath that keeps me breathing. He is solid ground when grief quakes.
Because He knows us both. He knows it all. Intimately. He was there when we said all the things and did all the things and made all the memories. He was there too.
So for those that grieve without Jesus, I pray for you. If you know someone who's grieving without Jesus in their life, go BE Jesus to them because they won't make it without Him. I'm convinced of this. People who are grieving feel deeply, personally alone in their grief at any given moment for reasons I've tried to explain above.
Another person will never be able to meet anyone in their grief completely, and as a minister of compassion, I've learned to accept this hard truth. But Jesus! Jesus can meet them right where they are and understand every hard feeling, rough edge, and deep wound because He knows it all! Take your grieving person to Jesus in whatever way that looks like. Grab the corners of their mat, cut a hole in the ceiling, and lower them down right in front of Him. (Luke 5:17-39) This looks like a lot of prayer, a lot of silent sitting, encouraging notes, long hugs, smiles with lots of eye contact. This looks like any number of small things and big things. Make them laugh, let them cry, send that text, plan that coffee.
Jesus knows how to reach the hurting because He knows their hurts intimately, and He uses His children to be His hands and feet to a hurting world (Matthew 25:40-45), and we don't have to understand or have a personal stake in their loss to be a conduit for His love.
If this journey of grief has taught me anything, it's taught me that I don't have to understand or relate to anything about someone's situation to bring Jesus to them in the middle of it. And Jesus rarely looks like the right words. Jesus is a presence in the dark. He simply let's you know you're not alone. That's a message I can whisper in the dark to someone too.
You're not alone.
Who in your life needs to hear those words today? How can you whisper it today? Stop wanting someone to whisper it to you, and go whisper it to someone else because Jesus is always whispering it to your heart, all the time, if you'll stop long enough to listen.
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