Grief.
Rejoice with those who rejoice; mourn with those who mourn.
~ Romans 12:15
It’s Wednesday, and the gravitas of yesterday’s election hangs in the air. Some of you reading this post are rejoicing at the results while others are mourning. How do we hold that tension as followers of Christ? When we are celebrating, how do we comfort our brothers and sisters who are grieving… when they are grieving the same thing we are celebrating? Likewise, how do we empathize with those rejoicing when we are caught in a web of grief. This is not easy, and this lack of capacity cripples the Body of Christ from our intended unity in the midst of diversity.
I don’t have any easy answers for you… but somehow we must grapple with this dilemma.
Today, though, I want to speak to those who are grieving because this is such a harder space to navigate than celebration. I find grief to be deeply isolating: I want to either stay in bed or stare off into space or numb out on Netflix… and I have done all of those recently. Is there a better way? Here are a few thoughts as I muse on the dilemma.
Feel the feels. When we stuff or numb our feelings, we cease being human in those moments. To be is to feel. And every human feeling is legitimate; not every feeling is helpful, but every one is part of what it means to be human. What are you feeling right now? Can you be with yourself in that feeling without self-destructing? Part of our journey, emotionally and spiritually, is to grow our capacity to hold emotion and breath through the pain. At the same time, be patient with yourself wherever you are in the process. Feel the feels.
Understand the trajectory. You know the stages of grief. These go all the way back to 1969 when Elisabeth Kübler-Ross published her now-famous book On Death and Dying. We return to this series of particular grief-responses because they are true; they accurately describe a predictable arc from denial to anger to bargaining to depression to acceptance. Although they do not always move in a straight line—sometimes we jump forward and then backward. But I find that knowing the general flow of the process is comforting. It reassures me “that the clouds must clear and that the sun will shine” (from the Endless Night soundtrack on Lion King, my favorite grief-song… if the words favorite and grief belong in the same sentence).
Don’t isolate. Like I said, the mourning instinct is to withdraw, and for a brief time, sad solitude can serve a purpose… but then we need people. Part of the calling of community is to hold space for both joy and sorrow. Together. Healing comes more deeply and quickly when we can share our pain with one another in safe spaces. Not fixing. Not trivializing suffering by moving too quickly to happy-happy. Really holding one another’s hurt and disappointment and disorientation. And even learning to hold both joy and sorrow at the same time!
Here’s one example. Kellie and I are hosting a “wake” tomorrow with one of our communities to provide just that kind of space for those who are grieving—to listen, to care, to comfort, and to hope.
In closing, much of this passage in Romans is deeply relevant for our communities. Take a look…
Be devoted to one another in love. Honor one another above yourselves…. Be joyful in hope, patient in affliction, faithful in prayer…. Share with the Lord’s people who are in need. Practice hospitality…. Bless those who persecute you; bless and do not curse. Rejoice with those who rejoice; mourn with those who mourn. Live in harmony with one another…. Do not repay anyone evil for evil…. If it is possible, as far as it depends on you, live at peace with everyone.
Amen.
growing your soul
If you are experiencing grief right now, which of these three points is most timely for you?
serving our world
Who needs your comfort, your empathetic presence right now?
takeaway
Bear one another’s burdens.