Tag Archives: grief

When there are no suitable answers

 

Maybe you saw the news story.

 

A young couple and their baby died in a bizarre road accident when concrete from an overpass fell onto their car, crushing them instantly. The couple were youth pastors in a nearby church. The couple had written a note earlier on the church website:
“We love to laugh. We are passionate about seeing young people discover the love and grace that Jesus abundantly pours out on them.”

 

What sense do you make of such senseless tragedy? What would you say to their families and friends, to those who had accepted Jesus into their lives because of their testimony, or those who are still searching?

 

Would you tell them that God must have been caught unaware, asleep at the wheel?

Would you spout theological answers that this is the result of the fall of man, the train of sin that keeps rolling down the track, taking us all farther than we want to go and costing us more than we want to pay?

Would you talk about suffering that advances the kingdom of God or explain how this is part of God’s divine design?

Would you say that God needed them in heaven or that he was protecting them from some unknown future temptation or prolonged suffering?

 

Or…

 

Would you say nothing at all, but rather sit quietly and cry with them as you hold their hand?

 

The truth is, there are answers to explain why bad things happen to good people. But answers aren’t always what we need. What we need is faith, hope, and love. Love is the one supreme command Jesus gave us: Love God and love others. We need love more than answers. There are things we won’t know for sure until we get to heaven. And even if we could speak such divine revelation, would it really calm the grieving soul? Would answers bind up broken hearts? The language grief understands best is faith expressing itself through love.

 

Faith isn’t fed by answers. Oh, for sure, we want to know! But the essence of our faith is that it believes even when it can’t perceive or understand answers. Faith survives our broken hearts. It supersedes our wounded spirits. Even when we are shocked beyond words, faith believes. No one and no thing can take away our faith, hope, and love, without our consent. When there are no suitable answers to satisfy our minds, these bring us to the heart of God who alone can calm our soul with peace that surpasses understanding.

 

“Faith is simply breathing the breath that God’s grace supplies.” (John MacArthur)

 

Breathe the breath of God and let your faith express itself through love, especially when there are no suitable answers.

 

 

Talking to God about grief

 

C.S. Lewis speaks of his experience of grief. I appreciate his sincerity and honesty. His wife’s suffering and death affected him deeply, taking him through a journey where, to his experience, God *seems* to change. What a frightening experience when we see only through a veil. What comfort is offered when we are able to see more clearly.
Lewis, grieving the death of his wife, Joy:

 

“Meanwhile, where is God? This is one of the most disquieting symptoms. When you are happy, so happy that you have no sense of needing Him, so happy that you are tempted to feel His claims upon you as an interruption, if you remember yourself and turn to Him with gratitude and praise, you will be—or so it feels—welcomed with open arms. But go to Him when your need is desperate, when all other help is vain, and what do you find? A door slammed in your face, and a sound of bolting and double bolting on the inside. After that, silence. You may as well turn away. The longer you wait, the more emphatic the silence will become. There are no lights in the windows. It might be an empty house. Was it ever inhabited? It seemed so once. And that seeming was as strong as this. What can this mean? Why is He so present a commander in our time of prosperity and so very absent a help in time of trouble?

 

I tried to put some of these thoughts to C. this afternoon. He reminded me that the same thing seems to have happened to Christ: ‘Why hast thou forsaken me?’ I know. Does that make it easier to understand?

 

Not that I am (I think) in much danger of ceasing to believe in God. The real danger is of coming to believe such dreadful things about Him. The conclusion I dread is not ‘So there’s no God after all,’ but ‘So this is what God’s really like. Deceive yourself no longer.’”

From A Grief Observed
Compiled in A Year with C.S. Lewis

 

Lewis didn’t lose his faith in God, but he faced many honest and difficult questions. How about you? What is your God really like? Is He a gracious and loving God even when you don’t feel it? Is He sufficient for your needs only when you feel they are all met? Or can you find satisfaction in His perfect plan even when it doesn’t seem to make any sense? He is waiting to talk with you about your questions.