thank you jp
By J.P.
It seems recently that death has been my ever-present companion. In the last month, I attended three funerals in three weeks, one of which was for my mother-in-law. She died quite suddenly, and ironically we were returning home from a wake for a mutual friend when she suffered a violent stroke. These brushes with death have had me pondering; please ponder with me a bit.
In Paul’s magnum opus, Romans, amidst a list of instructions on how a Christian ought to behave, lies an often-ignored instruction concerning our conduct toward the bereaved and downtrodden:
“Rejoice with those who rejoice; mourn with those who mourn.” Romans 12:15 (NIV)
Another rendering from The Message reads: “Laugh with your happy friends when they’re happy; share tears when they’re down.”
Why is this verse so important? I’ll tell you from experience: The last thing someone wants to hear when their world has just caved in is that “everything is going to be all right.” Well, at least I don’t want to hear that. Why? Because this can be like being told that your feelings don’t matter.
Well-intentioned folks seem armed to the teeth with pithy sayings, Internet forwards and half-quoted Bible verses to help you. Perhaps this well-intentioned effort stems from the misunderstanding that Christians are meant to be “happy all the day” (as the hymn relates). We are to be victorious, strong, upwardly mobile, persevering. And this understanding of the Christian life seems to leave no room for the gritty business of mourning. Yet if God had not intended to allow periods of despondency, would he have given us Lamentations? Why did Jesus weep openly? Does he not suffer with his children in some way beyond our understanding? Intentions are not in question here, but effectiveness is. Nothing rubs salt in the wound of loss like the feeling that one’s pain is being minimized.
So I am here to tell you that it is all right not to be happy all the day. Furthermore, that there are times when one would simply be foolish to be that way. You see, my family is amply acquainted with loss. My wife has lost seven loved ones in the last seven years, among them were her parents and two unborn children. She is 24. We have cried as David cried, until we could weep no more (1 Samuel 30). Yes, joy came in the morning (Psalm 30:5), but in those moments, fear, anger and despair set in like a tsunami, even though we know that our God is always with us.
It is beneficial to be reminded of God’s goodness, yet sometimes Christians are so quick to comfort that they do not even seem to be listening. This leaves believers looking callous instead of compassionate. Timeliness is of the essence. Intentions are not in question here, but effectiveness is and nothing rubs salt in a wound like the feeling that one’s pain is being minimized. Sometimes what someone needs more than anything is simply to hear, “Man, that is really awful, and I am so sorry.” And in the moment, that can be enough.
I have to say that in the midst of our recent loss, we were so blessed by our church, many of whom simply mourned with us. Perhaps that is, in part, because they know what that salt can feel like. In their moments of despair, they just needed to know that it was OK not to feel — OK.
So when someone mourns, mourn with them. Then when it is time to say, “Things will be OK,” laugh the darkness away together.
It seems recently that death has been my ever-present companion. In the last month, I attended three funerals in three weeks, one of which was for my mother-in-law. She died quite suddenly, and ironically we were returning home from a wake for a mutual friend when she suffered a violent stroke. These brushes with death have had me pondering; please ponder with me a bit.
In Paul’s magnum opus, Romans, amidst a list of instructions on how a Christian ought to behave, lies an often-ignored instruction concerning our conduct toward the bereaved and downtrodden:
“Rejoice with those who rejoice; mourn with those who mourn.” Romans 12:15 (NIV)
Another rendering from The Message reads: “Laugh with your happy friends when they’re happy; share tears when they’re down.”
Why is this verse so important? I’ll tell you from experience: The last thing someone wants to hear when their world has just caved in is that “everything is going to be all right.” Well, at least I don’t want to hear that. Why? Because this can be like being told that your feelings don’t matter.
Well-intentioned folks seem armed to the teeth with pithy sayings, Internet forwards and half-quoted Bible verses to help you. Perhaps this well-intentioned effort stems from the misunderstanding that Christians are meant to be “happy all the day” (as the hymn relates). We are to be victorious, strong, upwardly mobile, persevering. And this understanding of the Christian life seems to leave no room for the gritty business of mourning. Yet if God had not intended to allow periods of despondency, would he have given us Lamentations? Why did Jesus weep openly? Does he not suffer with his children in some way beyond our understanding? Intentions are not in question here, but effectiveness is. Nothing rubs salt in the wound of loss like the feeling that one’s pain is being minimized.
So I am here to tell you that it is all right not to be happy all the day. Furthermore, that there are times when one would simply be foolish to be that way. You see, my family is amply acquainted with loss. My wife has lost seven loved ones in the last seven years, among them were her parents and two unborn children. She is 24. We have cried as David cried, until we could weep no more (1 Samuel 30). Yes, joy came in the morning (Psalm 30:5), but in those moments, fear, anger and despair set in like a tsunami, even though we know that our God is always with us.
It is beneficial to be reminded of God’s goodness, yet sometimes Christians are so quick to comfort that they do not even seem to be listening. This leaves believers looking callous instead of compassionate. Timeliness is of the essence. Intentions are not in question here, but effectiveness is and nothing rubs salt in a wound like the feeling that one’s pain is being minimized. Sometimes what someone needs more than anything is simply to hear, “Man, that is really awful, and I am so sorry.” And in the moment, that can be enough.
I have to say that in the midst of our recent loss, we were so blessed by our church, many of whom simply mourned with us. Perhaps that is, in part, because they know what that salt can feel like. In their moments of despair, they just needed to know that it was OK not to feel — OK.
So when someone mourns, mourn with them. Then when it is time to say, “Things will be OK,” laugh the darkness away together.
posted by stephen joseph at 8:49 PM
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