Death is a difficult thing to experience. Even as a Christian, it’s difficult. For some reason, I think we have high expectations that we aren’t supposed to mourn or cry when it comes to death because we’re Christians. But we need to remember that while death holds no power over us, it’s still a painful reminder that this is not how we were meant to live life.
We were never meant to experience death but because of sin we do.
It also becomes complicated depending on the relationship you had with the deceased and the manner of their passing. For some reason, maybe it’s just me, we think that earthly things shouldn’t affect us. And if they do affect us then somehow we’re not spiritual enough.
Yet, in my journey of understanding who God is, I’ve come to realize just how compassionate He is to our human experience.
I have personally been going through grief with the passing of my father and brother this past December 2021.
In it, I have been having to wrestle with the truths of God and my human responses. In my struggle, I have been having to remember who Jesus was here on earth and who He still is. I love Jesus’ response to the death of one of his good friends:
“Then Jesus wept.” (John 11:35)
If Jesus, God Himself, wept over death, then I can too.
Seeing my brother and father’s death was a stark reminder of how sin can destroy you fully.
I was at work when I got the call that something was wrong with my dad. We had been estranged for almost three years but I knew that something had happened. At this point in time, the only person who had contact with him was my grandfather (his father) and it was unusual to not hear back from him.
Driving down to where my dad was staying was a weird mix of calmness and anxious energy. We didn’t know what would happen. Prior to arriving down there, we had called a police officer to do a wellness check. They were waiting for us when we arrived. After verifying who we were, the officer then confirmed that yes, my dad had passed away.
The next few days were a blur of business (because there is a business side to death) and the grappling that on this side of eternity, my father and I wouldn’t be reconciled.
Then that Friday, just four days after my father was pronounced dead, my brother took his life.
It was New Year’s Eve.
It was almost symbolic that the pain and hurt and agony that I had with my father and brother was silenced and blaring at the same time that the year was ending and a new year was beginning.
The first Sunday of the new year, I knew in my soul that the one place I needed to be was church. Not because the church could fix all my problems or because I was a spiritual giant, but rather because if God designed the church and He knows I need community support, then that’s exactly where I needed to be.
The first Sunday, when they were singing songs of life and death, the songs weren’t just words. They were living color.
I had to live out my faith.
No one would have blamed me if I stayed home. No one would have blamed me if I sat in the rows. But if I serve a God who rose from the dead then I can proclaim in faith that God will be with me in everything–even death.
This doesn’t mean that I am not feeling pain. It doesn’t mean I don’t have bad moments or PTSD. It doesn’t mean I don’t get clinical help or take care of my body to help process the grief.
But rather all of those things are an outflow of the fact that the God of the universe holds my world in His hands.
So friend, I don’t know what grief you are walking in today. But I know that Jesus is the same yesterday, today and tomorrow. He isn’t overwhelmed by your grief. He isn’t taken back by your tears and pain. Even if you can’t feel it right now, He is right beside you–mourning and giving you the strength that you need.
Check out more from Mariah and her journey of grief and estrangement as a Christian on her website and Instagram account!
