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In Ecclesiastes 3:11, we read that God makes everything beautiful in its time. It is comforting to know that nothing is wasted in God's economy, but all of it will be used for our good and His glory. You're invited to join us for poignant conversations and compelling interviews centered on believing for His beauty in every season.
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Well, hey everybody, welcome back to Everything Made Beautiful. Today's podcast is actually a by request episode. I said a statement at our Everything Made Christmas Beautiful event in December about grief being a gift and it being one of the ways that we see
other facets of God's character kind of like turning a diamond and how there are gifts in grief and that grief itself can be a gift. And I had a question by a sweet friend of mine afterwards and she just asked if I would say more about grief and while I think it's really important I also wanted to just give it some time. I also wanted to give myself some time because
February is always a difficult month for me because it's the anniversary of my dad going to be with Jesus. So I wanted to make sure that before I said more about believing that grief can be a gift, which I do, that I just gave it some time and that I was really prepared with what I wanted to say about it. So that's what this episode is and today we're going to explore the topic of grief. Now chances are good.
that if you're listening to this podcast it isn't because you thought yay grief instead you've likely picked up grief as a companion thanks to something difficult or tragic that you've experienced and when the uninvited guest of grief moves in with us no matter how quote prepared we thought we were
We have to figure out a new way of being and a new way of living with a companion that on some level will likely be with us always. Now, I'll be the first to admit that grief isn't something most of us like to think about, much less embrace. It's messy, it's raw, it's painful. And while grief is often associated with death, we experience grief in many other ways, sometimes without even realizing it.
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Maybe it's a loss of identity or role transitions like retiring, becoming an empty nester or losing a job can bring grief over who we once were. I'm walking through a measure of grief as Allie graduates from high school this year and I move into a new season where all my kids are adults and they aren't as dependent on me as they once were. Or maybe you've experienced grief over a change in relationships. Even without death,
Friendships drift, marriages struggle, or family dynamics shift, leading to a quiet mourning of what once was. I've grieved relationships in my past, and even still, there are one or two that I really wish were different, and they're just not. There's also the grief of unmet expectations. When life doesn't turn out the way we hoped, whether it's infertility, singleness, a breakup,
a broken promise or maybe a dream that never materialized, we grieve the future we imagined. Maybe you've had grief over a loss of health, chronic illness, aging, physical limitations, or a diagnosis. For us or those we love can bring grief over the loss of independence or abilities we once took for granted.
I realize more acutely each day how much I'm grieving my mom's dementia and how unfair it feels to me that my dad's already in heaven. There's also grief around moving or relocation. Leaving behind a home, a community, or a church can bring unexpected sorrow even when the change is good. I feel this deeply about my season of transition off a church staff. Even though the change was good, I grieve days that are now gone.
There can be grief over a loss of safety or security if there's been a betrayal or a financial hardship or a traumatic event that can shake our sense of stability and leave us grieving the life we thought we had. And then there's just the grief of loss of innocence or time really. Realizing how quickly it passes, watching children grow up or reflecting on past mistakes can bring a deep sense of loss.
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Grief isn't always about what we've lost though, it's about what we've loved, valued, or expected. Recognizing hidden grief allows us to name it, process it, and ultimately invite the shepherd to walk with us through it. But what if I told you that grief, though deeply painful, is actually a gift? It's not a punishment, it's a gift.
It's not something to recoil from or run away from. It's a sacred tool that God gives us as a way to process the losses, the brokenness, and the fallenness of this world. Grief isn't something that we would ever choose on our own, but it is something that God uses to meet us in our deepest pain, to reveal himself to us in ways we wouldn't otherwise experience.
So today I just want to dive deeper into the pain and the gift of grief. I want to help us see that it's in the midst of our sorrow and loss that God reveals aspects of his character we would never know otherwise. I want us to understand that grief is not just something we endure. It's something that can transform us, deepen our walk with God and reveal his presence in ways that we can't see when life is easy. So let's take a closer look at grief.
through a theological lens, of course. And I pray that by the end of this episode, you will see grief in a new light, one that invites you to find comfort in the midst of sorrow and hope in the midst of pain. So first, let's talk about the pain of grief. It's undeniable. Grief is one of the most excruciating experiences we can endure. It's a deep ache in our hearts.
a heaviness that weighs on our soul. It feels like a storm has upended our lives, leaving us disoriented and broken. Whether it's the death of a loved one, the end of a significant relationship, the loss of a dream, or the heartache of seeing the brokenness of the world around us, grief feels like a burden we would rather not carry.
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It's a reminder that we live in a fallen world where loss and sorrow are inevitable consequences of sin entering the world in Genesis three. Theologically, grief is a response to the reality of living in that broken sinful world. The apostle Paul talks about the creation groaning under the weight of sin in Romans 822, where he says, for we know
that the whole creation has been groaning together in the pains of childbirth until now. Grief, is a natural response to the brokenness of the world. It's a tangible reminder that this world is not as it should be and that the effects of sin permeate every part of creation, including our lives. In grief, we feel the weight of that brokenness, the weight of the loss, the pain,
the emptiness that comes when things aren't as they should be. But here's the thing about grief. It's not just painful. It's also sacred. Though it feels like an interruption to our peace and stability, grief has a profound purpose in our lives. It invites us to confront the brokenness of the world head on, and it compels us to reach out to God in ways that we wouldn't in times of comfort.
Grief reveals our vulnerability, our dependence on God, and our need for His comfort and His healing. It's in grief that we learn to hold on to God in our weakness, knowing that He is our strength. And so lament is an integral part of grief, and it's one of the most honest and raw expressions of our pain. It's a deeply intimate process.
one that aligns our hearts with God's heart in the midst of suffering. Lament is not simply complaining or venting. It is a prayer, a cry, a song that pours out the sorrow, the confusion, and the anguish we feel in the wake of loss. It is, in many ways, a sacred act of turning toward God in the midst of grief, even when our emotions may feel too raw,
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too deep or too painful to express in any other way. Throughout scripture, we see the practice of lament woven through the Psalms, the prophets, and even the life of Jesus. The Psalms alone contain over 40 prayers of lament where the psalmist cries out to God in the midst of despair asking, why or how long, oh Lord?
These lament Psalms are not about ignoring or minimizing pain. They are about bringing our deepest sorrow before God. Psalm 13 is probably one of the clearest examples of lament. How long, O Lord, will you forget me forever? How long will you hide your face from me? These are questions that reflect the heart of a person in deep grief.
Lament doesn't sanitize our pain or rush us to resolution. It lets the rawness of our hearts spill out before God, trusting that he will hear us. I like to think that lament serves as an act of hopeful protest. It acknowledges the reality of a fallen world while also affirming the belief that things should be different.
that God's original design for creation was good and free from suffering. When we lament, we're not just expressing our pain, we are making a declaration that this suffering is not the way things were meant to be. We're protesting the brokenness of the world in the same way the prophets did when they cried out for God to act and bring justice. Lament invites us to ask hard questions about why suffering exists.
and to express the frustration and sorrow that come with it. But it also trusts that God can handle those questions. Lament at its core is a way of engaging God in our suffering, even when we don't understand why it's happening. As we grieve, the process of lament allows us to move through the stages of sorrow and loss while still holding on to God.
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It's a reminder that our pain does not separate us from God. It invites us to lean into Him more fully. The act of lament is a declaration of faith that God is big enough to handle our questions, our anger, and our sorrow. Jesus himself modeled lament. When he stood at the tomb of his friend Lazarus, who had died, he wept. Even knowing he was about to raise Lazarus from the dead,
Jesus wept because he felt the weight of the loss. He wasn't in denial about the pain. He entered into it with full awareness of its heaviness. In the same way, we are invited to bring our full selves, our pain, our questions, our brokenness before God, trusting that he is compassionate and able to bear our burdens.
But lament also has a communal aspect. In the Old Testament, Israel often lamented together as a people. Many of the Psalms of lament were sung by the community. In our grief, we are reminded that we are not alone. While personal lament is essential, we are invited to grieve together, to share our sorrow with one another and to bear one another's burdens. In the church,
Lament becomes a place for the body of Christ to gather and mourn together, holding space for each other's pain and reminding one another of God's presence and faithfulness in the midst of sorrow. Now, if we're honest, I think we can safely admit that if we don't hardly know what to do with ourselves when we're in grief, then we might not know how to hold space well for others who are in deep grief.
I often feel at a loss for words. And as a natural fixer, I want to problem solve and try to fix through doing. And when I can't do any of that, I feel utterly helpless. But often, all we can do is be present when others are grieving. That's how we can embrace the communal offering of grief. Lament and grief is also a process of reorienting ourselves to God.
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Lament doesn't just leave us in our pain spinning around, it moves us toward hope. The act of crying out to God, of bringing our sorrow into His presence reminds us of who He is in the midst of our grief. Lament often shifts toward trust as the psalmist or prophets remember God's faithfulness, His promises, and His past acts of deliverance.
Psalm 13, which begins with the psalmist crying out, ends in a declaration of trust. But I have trusted in your steadfast love. My heart shall rejoice in your salvation. I will sing to the Lord because he has dealt bountifully with me. In this way, lament is not a passive act. It's an active choice to bring our brokenness to God and trust that even in our grief,
He is good and he is faithful. It's a practice that points us forward as we acknowledge the pain of the present but hold on to the hope of the future that one day God will make all things right, wiping away every tear and bringing healing to all that is broken. Lament then is not a sign of weakness.
It too is a gift that enables us to process our pain in the presence of the Lord. It's a pathway to healing, a way to honor what we have lost, and a means of growing in our faith as we learn to trust God in the midst of our sorrow. It's a way of crying out to the Lord and also a way of remembering that he's near to the brokenhearted, a comforter who promises to be with us through every season of grief.
And so now that we've talked about the pain and we've acknowledged it, let's turn the corner and consider how grief is actually a gift. This may seem counterintuitive. And if you are in deep grief, even the mere suggestion of this might seem offensive or feel like salt in an open wound. But I believe that when we allow ourselves to truly grieve, we open the door to some of the deepest experiences of God's character.
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Grief, as painful as it is, is a gift that brings us closer to God and allows us to experience His presence, His comfort, and His transformative power in ways that we really can't when life is all smooth sailing. It's in the most intense moments of sorrow that who God is and how He relates to us becomes more tangible, more real, and more immediate than ever before. When we grieve,
God reveals himself to us not only as the creator and sovereign king, but as the one who draws near to the brokenhearted, offering his presence in profound, transformative ways. So I'm going to give you five ways we get to know God in grief, and this is why I consider it a gift. You may want to take notes or go back later and jot these down, not because I'm so profound, but because when all becomes blurry in the haze of grief,
These can serve as lifelines for us to cling white-knuckled to. First, the gift of grief lets us know God as the Comforter. In 2 Corinthians 1, verses 3 and 4, Paul writes,
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so that we may be able to comfort those who are in any affliction with the comfort which we ourselves were comforted by God. So there's no comfort like the comfort that comes from the Father. This is one of the most powerful aspects of his character. His comfort isn't simply a soft, easy consolation. It's a deep soul-level presence that doesn't remove the pain, but meets us in the pain and carries us through it.
In grief, we often feel alone, abandoned or forsaken. And yet, it is in these very moments that we can encounter God's comfort most profoundly. In the absence of human understanding or support, God's comfort becomes a shelter, one that wraps around us, bringing peace in the midst of chaos. It's in our deepest moments of grief that we feel His arms around us.
even when we can't see or touch Him. He enters into our sorrow, He weeps with us, and He gives us strength to endure. And then, we in turn are able to comfort others because we've received God's comfort for ourselves. Now that is a real live gift that keeps on giving. Secondly, the gift of grief lets us know God is our strength.
When grief overwhelms us, when we feel weak and incapable of moving forward, it is in those moments we experience God's strength in a way that is utterly amazing. In Isaiah 41 10, God says, fear not, for I am with you. Be not dismayed, for I am your God. I will strengthen you. I will help you. I will uphold you with my righteous right hand.
We may feel like we can't take another step, that the weight of the sorrow will crush us. But when we're feeling utterly spent, God's strength becomes the most real. The Bible reminds us in 2 Corinthians 12, 9 that God's grace is sufficient and his power is made perfect in weakness. God doesn't leave us to bear our grief on our own. Instead, he strengthens us, enabling us to carry on when we think we can't.
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His strength becomes our strength, and in our weakest moments, He lifts us up and carries us through, and somehow each day passes, and before we know it, we've made it through some of our darkest days. Thirdly, the gift of grief lets us know God as our Redeemer. This is one of the most powerful aspects of God's faithfulness that we experience. In grief, though we may not have words for it,
We actually long for redemption. We long for things to be made right, for healing to come and for restoration to take place. And this is exactly what God promises to do in the future. In Isaiah 61 verse 3, we see God's promise to provide for those who grieve, to bestow on them a crown of beauty instead of ashes, the oil of joy instead of mourning, and a garment of
praise instead of a spirit of despair. The oil of joy represents the spirit-filled gladness that Jesus bestows on those who trust in him, transforming grief into deep, unshakable joy rooted in the reality of coming redemption. So even though our grief is real and the pain is overwhelming, we are reminded that God's redemptive work is still in progress.
He does not stop redeeming. He promises that in the end, He will make all things new. He will redeem the brokenness and the loss. And though we may not see full restoration in this life, the hope of redemption anchors our souls and allows us to grieve with hope. In the midst of pain, we cling to the truth that God is a Redeemer and He is at work even now.
making all things beautiful in his time. Fourthly, the gift of grief lets us know God as our sustainer. In the throes of grief, it often feels like a burden too heavy to bear. It's in these moments that God's sustaining grace shows up. Psalm 5522 encourages us, cast your burden on the Lord and he will sustain you.
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We can be left feeling emotionally, physically, and spiritually exhausted in seasons of sorrow. But it is God who sustains us in the process, giving us what we need for each moment. His grace is sufficient to carry us through the darkest valleys, and He gives us the strength to face each new day. We can think of God's sustaining presence being like manna in the wilderness, just enough to get us through day by day.
We may not have all the answers. We may not feel strong enough to endure, but God provides exactly what we need when we need it. He is a steady, unwavering presence in the midst of uncertainty. And His grace, though it may not take away our grief, sustains us in ways that keep us going. We come to see that His grace is more than enough. It is sufficient, and His mercy is new.
every morning. And fifthly, the gift of grief lets us know God as our shepherd. You know Psalm 23 very well, I'd imagine. David proclaims that even though he walks through the valley of the shadow of death, he will fear no evil because God is with him. Your rod and your staff, they comfort me, he says. God as our shepherd
walks with us through the dark valleys of grief. He doesn't leave us to navigate the difficult path alone. Instead, he leads us beside still waters and restores our souls. In our grief, we experience the tender care of a shepherd who knows us intimately and leads us with love and compassion. In the hands of the shepherd, the rod and staff are not instruments of punishment,
but of protection and guidance. The rod was a weapon of defense used to drive away threats, reminding us that God fights for us in our pain. The staff, with its gentle little crook, was used to pull sheep back from harm, a symbol of his loving correction, but also his nearness. Together, they reveal a shepherd who does not abandon us in the valley,
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He walks with us, defending, directing, and drawing us close. So true comfort is not found in the absence of hardship, but in the presence of a shepherd who never leaves. While grief may cause us to feel lost and confused, our shepherd God gently leads us back to his heart. And so in grief, we are not only confronted with our pain, but also with the glorious reality of
who God is. The facets of God's character, his comfort, his strength, his redemption, his sustaining grace, and his shepherding are revealed to us in ways that we can only fully experience through sorrow. In the process of grieving, we learn to rely on him in a deeper, more intimate way. Grief surely strips us of our self-sufficiency, and it forces us to look to God for what we need.
It invites us into a fuller relationship with Him, one that is forged in the fires of suffering. I know this episode is already a bit longer than most that I do by myself, but before we go, I also want to give you three ways that grief is a tool for you. For those of us who just wish there was something to do, maybe these will feel helpful. Grief, first of all, is a tool of remembrance.
In the Bible, God frequently calls his people to remember. Remember his faithfulness, remember his promises, remember what he has done. Throughout the Old Testament, he establishes memorials and festivals to help his people anchor themselves in the truth of his character. So grief, in a sense, forces us to remember. When we experience loss, we're confronted with the reality of what has been taken from us.
In that painful place, we're invited to remember the significance of what has been lost, the love we had, the dream we held, the relationship we cherished. We remember that those things were gifts in and of themselves, and that is worth honoring. This act of remembering is holy. It's not about staying stuck in the past, but about honoring the memory of what was and giving weight to what we've lost.
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You hear me say all the time, Ecclesiastes 3 reminds us, a time to weep, a time to laugh, a time to mourn, a time to dance, and so on. Well, grief allows us to mourn, to reflect, to honor the significance of what has passed. In the process of grieving, we also allow God to heal the wound and give us hope for the future. We're reminded.
We can trust God's faithfulness even in our sorrow. Grief doesn't just point us backward, it also points us forward as we remember the promises of God that one day he will make all things new. Secondly, grief is a tool for healing. I know that seems strange, but grief itself helps us heal. Because healing doesn't come by pretending the pain doesn't exist.
or by rushing through the process, healing comes when we sit with our grief and kind of let it have its way with us, when we acknowledge our pain, when we allow God into our deepest places of hurt. We know that the Lord is near to the brokenhearted and he saves the crushed in spirit. God doesn't stand at a distance, he comes near. In our sorrow, he offers himself his presence and his peace.
So if we let grief have its way with us, it'll force us to stop and reflect, to sit in the silence and the sadness, and it creates space for God to do his healing work in us. We don't like to think of suffering as a means of transformation, but scripture teaches us that suffering refines us. Paul tells us in Romans 5, we rejoice in our sufferings.
knowing that suffering produces endurance and endurance produces character and character produces hope. Grief in its painful process produces endurance in us. It shapes our character and ultimately it produces a hope that's not anchored in our circumstances but in God's unshakable promises. We are engaging in the refining work of God.
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and we come out on the other side more like Christ. I remember after my dad died, I realized that everything was different from that point forward. But by choosing to engage with the grief, rather than try not to look directly at it or protect myself from the pain, I was able to experience healing, though I'd never quite experienced what used to be.
and there will always be a hole in my life without him and grief that will sneak up on me. I have found grief to be a tool for healing. But lastly, grief is a tool of transformation. It helps us grow into the image of Christ in a deeper, more intimate way. Philippians 3 10 says, Paul longed to know Christ
in the fellowship of his sufferings. This tells us there's an intimacy with Christ that we only experience when we walk through the deep waters of grief. It's in suffering that we are pressed into the character of Christ. It's in grief that we learn to fully rely on God's strength and His grace. C.S. Lewis once said that God whispers to us in our pleasures, speaks in our conscience,
but shouts in our pain. Grief is the loudest, most unmistakable voice of God calling us into his presence, teaching us to depend on him in a way that we would not if everything were easy.
As hard as it is though, grief isn't the final word. It's a gift in that it ultimately points us to hope. Grief has an expiration date. Revelation 21 for promises us that one day he will wipe away every tear from their eyes and death shall be no more. Neither shall there be mourning, nor crying, nor pain.
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There's coming a day when all things will be made new, when sorrow will be no more, and when God will restore all that has been lost. In that sense, grief is a longing for something better, something eternal. It pushes us to look forward to the coming of Christ and the hope of the new creation. So friend, if you're walking through grief,
whether it's a loss you can name or one you're just now realizing you've been carrying. I want you to hear this. You are not alone. The weight of sorrow can feel unbearable, but you have a shepherd who walks with you through the valley, defending, guiding, and holding you close. My prayer is that this episode will be a bit of a lifeline when you need it.
A reminder that your grief is seen, that it matters, and that God is not absent in it. He is present, at work, and though you may not see it yet, He is weaving even this season into something beautiful in its time. How kind of the Lord to give us a way to navigate the things of this life that threaten to crush us. In seeing the gift of grief,
We find a God who always had our best interest in mind, who knew our shoulders wouldn't be broad enough or strong enough to carry the weight of loss and who gave us the process of grief so that we could bear it. Hold on, friend. He meets you there. Beauty is not the absence of grief. It's the presence of God in the middle of it because he's always making everything beautiful.
including you. I've prayed for you today. I'm praying that you will feel the gift in grief, but more so that you'll feel God with you in it, because he is. I'll see you next time.