suffering

A Sheep Strolls Through 1 Peter 4:12-19

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When Suffering Comes

Beloved in Christ,

There is something deeply human about the way suffering catches us off guard. We expect difficulty in a fallen world, yet when the heat intensifies—when the trial feels personal, undeserved, or prolonged—we still find ourselves whispering, “Why me? Why now?” Peter, writing to scattered believers who were tasting the first bitter waves of persecution, meets that very ache with pastoral tenderness and clear-eyed truth.

“Dear friends, do not be surprised at the fiery ordeal that has come on you to test you, as though something strange were happening to you. But rejoice inasmuch as you participate in the sufferings of Christ, so that you may be overjoyed when his glory is revealed.” (1 Peter 4:12–13)

Peter does not minimize the pain. He names it a “fiery ordeal”—a refining fire, not a random accident. The surprise is not that suffering comes, but that we so often treat it as alien to the Christian life. Jesus Himself walked the path of rejection, mockery, and the cross. When we share in that path, we are not abandoned; we are drawn into deeper fellowship with Him. The rejoicing Peter calls for is not forced cheerfulness. It is the settled confidence that every shared wound with Christ becomes a shared glory when He is revealed.He continues:

“If you are insulted because of the name of Christ, you are blessed, for the Spirit of glory and of God rests on you… However, if you suffer as a Christian, do not be ashamed, but praise God that you bear that name.” (vv. 14, 16)

Insult and shame are real. The early believers knew the sting of being labeled “Christian” as a term of contempt. Yet Peter flips the script: the very name that invites scorn becomes a badge of honor because the Spirit of glory rests upon the one who bears it. This is not theoretical. The same Spirit who rested on Jesus in His baptism and sustained Him through Gethsemane now rests on you in your trial. You are not merely enduring; you are being marked by God’s own presence.Peter is careful, though. Not every hardship is redemptive suffering. He warns against suffering as a murderer, thief, criminal, or meddler (v. 15). There is a difference between the pain that comes from walking in Christ’s footsteps and the pain we bring on ourselves through sin or foolishness. The former is a participation in Christ’s story; the latter is simply the bitter fruit of our own choices.Then comes the sobering wider view:

“For it is time for judgment to begin with God’s household; and if it begins with us, what will the outcome be for those who do not obey the gospel of God? And, ‘If it is hard for the righteous to be saved, what will become of the ungodly and the sinner?’” (vv. 17–18)

Judgment begins with the family of God—not as condemnation, but as purifying discipline. The fire that refines the church also reveals the destiny of those who reject the gospel. Peter quotes Proverbs to remind us that even the righteous path is costly; how much more perilous is the path of unbelief. This is not triumphalism. It is a call to sober gratitude and gentle urgency toward those still outside.Finally, the pastoral heart of the passage:

“So then, those who suffer according to God’s will should commit themselves to their faithful Creator and continue to do good.” (v. 19)

Here is the quiet climax. In the midst of the fire, entrust your soul—your whole self—to the One who made you and remains faithful. And keep doing good. Suffering according to God’s will does not cancel ordinary faithfulness; it deepens it. We keep loving, serving, speaking truth, and practicing kindness even when the cost rises. Our Creator is trustworthy. He will not waste a single tear or unanswered prayer.This is the warm invitation of the text: you are not alone in the fire. Christ has walked it before you. His Spirit rests on you. Your faithful Creator holds you. And the glory that is coming will make the present refining feel light by comparison.

Personal Reflection Questions

  1. Where in your life right now does the “fiery ordeal” feel most surprising or strange? How might viewing it as participation in Christ’s sufferings change the way you carry it?
  2. Have you experienced the Spirit of glory resting on you in a season of insult or rejection for Christ’s sake? What did that presence feel like, and how can you lean into it again?
  3. Is there any suffering in your life that may actually be the fruit of your own choices rather than suffering “as a Christian”? What would repentance and recommitment look like today?
  4. In what practical ways can you “continue to do good” this week while entrusting your soul more fully to your faithful Creator?

When you face suffering remember, dear ones, that you are deeply loved by God. Cling to that and know that He will never leave you nor forsake you

In His Service,

A fellow sheep

A Sheep Strolls Through 1 Peter 3:13-18

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Suffering for Doing Good

Beloved friends in Christ,

As we sit together looking at God’s Word, savoring the warm bliss of our coffee (or tea) this morning, let’s take a peek at how we are to react when we are mistreated for no good reason at all. Peter writes these words to scattered believers who were facing suspicion, slander, and outright hostility for following Jesus. They were not suffering because they had done wrong, but because they were living differently—eager to do good in a world that often rewarded evil. Into that painful reality, Peter speaks both tender encouragement and clear truth.

Here is the passage:

“Who is going to harm you if you are eager to do good? But even if you should suffer for what is right, you are blessed. ‘Do not fear their threats; do not be frightened.’ But in your hearts revere Christ as Lord. Always be prepared to give an answer to everyone who asks you to give the reason for the hope that you have. But do this with gentleness and respect, keeping a clear conscience, so that those who speak maliciously against your good behavior in Christ may be ashamed of their slander. For it is better, if it is God’s will, to suffer for doing good than for doing evil. For Christ also suffered once for sins, the righteous for the unrighteous, to bring you to God. He was put to death in the body but made alive in the Spirit.”
—1 Peter 3:13-18

The Surprising Blessing of Suffering for Righteousness (vv. 13-14)

Peter begins with a gentle question rooted in common sense and God’s sovereign care: “Who is going to harm you if you are eager to do good?” Most of the time, a life marked by kindness, integrity, and love disarms opposition. Yet Peter is realistic. He knows that sometimes evil still strikes the innocent.

When that happens, he does not say, “You must have done something wrong.” He says, “You are blessed.” This is the same word Jesus used in the Beatitudes (Matthew 5:10). Suffering for righteousness is not a sign of God’s displeasure—it is a mark of walking in the footsteps of Christ Himself.

Peter then quotes Isaiah 8:12–13: “Do not fear their threats; do not be frightened.” The original context in Isaiah was a call to fear God instead of human powers. Peter applies it beautifully to Jesus: when threats rise, we are invited to turn our gaze upward.

Revering Christ as Lord in Your Heart (v. 15)

Here is the heart of the passage. Instead of letting fear of people rule us, Peter calls us to revere Christ as Lord in our hearts. The word “revere” (or “honor as holy”) carries the idea of setting Jesus apart as the supreme authority and treasure of our inner life. When Christ is truly Lord in the center of who we are, the opinions and threats of others lose their power to paralyze us.

From that settled place of worship, Peter urges us to be ready to give “an answer” (the Greek word is apologia—a reasoned defense) for the hope that is in us. Notice it is not a demand to win every argument or to be aggressive. It is a gentle readiness. Our hope is not vague optimism; it is the living hope of resurrection through Jesus (1 Peter 1:3). People will eventually ask why we can keep loving, forgiving, and enduring when life is hard. That question is an open door for the gospel.

Gentleness, Respect, and a Clear Conscience (vv. 15-17)

The manner matters deeply. We are to answer, “with gentleness and respect.” Gentleness is strength under control; respect honors the image of God in the other person, even when they oppose us.

We are also to keep “a clear conscience.” Our words and our lives must line up. When we live with integrity, even those who slander us may eventually be ashamed of their accusations (v. 16). Peter reminds us that it is far better, if it is God’s will, to suffer for doing good than for doing evil. Suffering itself is not the goal—Christlike character is.

Christ’s Suffering: Our Model and Our Hope (v. 18)

The passage reaches its beautiful climax by pointing us to Jesus. “For Christ also suffered once for sins, the righteous for the unrighteous, to bring you to God.”

This is substitutionary love at its purest. Jesus—the sinless One—suffered in our place. He did it “once for all,” never needing to repeat it. His goal was not merely to make us moral, but “to bring you to God.” Through His death in the body and His being made alive in the Spirit, the way back to the Father has been opened forever.

When we suffer for doing good, we are not alone. We are walking a path Jesus has already walked, and His suffering has secured our eternal safety with God.

A Warm Word for Your Heart Today

Dear one, if you are feeling the sting of opposition, misunderstanding, or quiet hostility for simply trying to live faithfully, hear Peter’s pastoral voice: You are blessed. Your suffering is not wasted. Christ sees it, Christ understands it, and Christ has already gone before you.

Revere Him as Lord in the quiet places of your heart. Let that deep reverence quiet your fears. Live a life so beautiful and consistent that even your critics have to wrestle with the reality of your hope. And when the moment comes to speak, do it with the same gentleness and respect Jesus showed to you.

You are not called to be fearless in your own strength. You are called to be Christ-centered—and that changes everything.

Personal Reflection Questions

Take a few quiet moments with the Lord and journal your honest answers:

  1. In what areas of your life right now are you “eager to do good”? Have you experienced any resistance or misunderstanding because of it? How did you respond?
  2. When fear or anxiety rises because of what others might think or do, what does it look like for you to “revere Christ as Lord” in your heart instead?
  3. How prepared do you feel to gently explain the reason for your hope when someone asks? What might help you grow in readiness this season?
  4. Is there any area where your conscience feels less than clear? How might bringing that to Jesus and walking in greater integrity strengthen your witness?
  5. How does meditating on Christ’s innocent suffering “once for sins” to bring you to God comfort or strengthen you in your own trials?
  6. What is one specific, practical way you can live out gentleness and respect this week while still standing firm in your faith?

May the Lord Jesus, who suffered for you, fill your heart with His peace and make your life a living testimony of the hope that cannot be shaken.

Remember my dear friends – you are deeply loved.

A Sheep Strolls Through 1 Peter 2:18-25

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Grace for the Unfair Seasons

Beloved friends in Christ,

Beloved, as we open these verses together, picture the apostle Peter writing to scattered believers who were often treated harshly because of their faith. Many of them were household servants or slaves with very little power or protection. These words were written to people who knew what it felt like to be mistreated with no easy way out. Peter doesn’t sugarcoat the reality of unjust suffering, but he gently turns our eyes to the One who walked this road before us—Jesus. Into their painful reality, Peter speaks with both tenderness and truth. He doesn’t promise that suffering will disappear, but he shows them—and us—how to walk through it with the heart of Jesus. Let’s walk slowly through these words.

When life feels unfair—whether it’s a difficult boss, a strained relationship, criticism you didn’t deserve, or circumstances that simply don’t make sense—our natural instinct is often to defend ourselves, to push back, or to quietly nurse bitterness. Yet Peter invites us into something far more beautiful and freeing: the way of Jesus.

Verses 18–20

Peter begins with a very practical command: “Slaves, in reverent fear of God submit yourselves to your masters, not only to those who are good and considerate, but also to those who are harsh.” Notice the foundation he gives: “in reverent fear of God.” Our ultimate loyalty is always to the Lord. We submit not because every human authority deserves it, but because we live with a conscious awareness of God watching over us.

Peter then makes a beautiful distinction. It is “commendable”—literally, it finds grace or favor with God—when we endure suffering that is unjust. There is something precious to God when His children quietly bear pain they did not deserve, simply because they are mindful of Him. Jesus suffered the deepest injustice the world has ever known, yet He did not retaliate. He did not threaten. He simply entrusted Himself to the Father who judges justly. And because He did, something miraculous happened—our wounds were healed. His suffering wasn’t wasted. It became the very path that brings us back home to the Shepherd who watches over our souls with tender care.

This does not mean we are called to stay in every difficult situation or to enable harm. Jesus Himself modeled wise boundaries. He often withdrew from crowds, refused to perform signs on demand, and spoke truth even when it created distance. He chose not to engage with every demand placed on Him. He spoke truth with clarity, even when it created distance in relationships. And while He submitted to the cross, He did not submit to every sinful or manipulative request along the way.

One beautiful and important truth we hold alongside this passage is that following Jesus’ example does not mean becoming a doormat or staying in situations of ongoing harm. Setting a boundary is not the same as retaliation or bitterness. It can actually be an act of obedience and love—protecting the life and dignity God has given you while still entrusting the outcome to Him. If you are in a situation of ongoing abuse or toxicity, seeking help from trusted believers, counselors, or appropriate authorities is not unspiritual; it is wise and Christ-honoring.

Healthy boundaries, offered with gentleness and clarity, can actually reflect Christ. They say, “I will not participate in what harms me or dishonors God, but I will still choose to respond with grace where I can.” This balance—enduring with Christlike trust when necessary, while exercising wisdom and boundaries—helps us follow in His steps without losing our God-given dignity or enabling harm.

Verses 21–23

Then Peter lifts our eyes to the ultimate Example: “To this you were called, because Christ suffered for you, leaving you an example, that you should follow in his steps.” What a tender and powerful invitation. We are not asked to walk a path Jesus never walked. He suffered unjustly in the deepest way possible. Quoting from Isaiah 53, Peter reminds us that Jesus “committed no sin, and no deceit was found in his mouth.” When insults were hurled at Him, He did not hurl them back. When He suffered, He made no threats. Instead, He “entrusted himself to him who judges justly.”

This is the heart of Christlike endurance—not passive resignation, but active trust. Jesus did not fight for His rights in the moment because He knew the Father sees everything and will one day make all things right. When we follow in His steps, we are invited into that same quiet confidence.

Peter’s words teach us how to respond when suffering comes our way — especially for those moments when we have little control over our circumstances. In those places, he invites us to endure with grace rather than bitterness. The same Jesus who endured unjust suffering also invites us to live in the freedom He purchased for us and to love others (including ourselves) well.

You are not asked to endure hardship in your own strength. You are invited to follow in His steps, empowered by the same grace that carried Him to the cross. When you choose to respond with quiet trust instead of retaliation, when you keep doing good even when it costs you, heaven takes notice. It is “commendable before God.”

Verses 24–25

But Peter doesn’t leave us only with an example—he gives us the gospel that makes this kind of life possible: “He himself bore our sins in his body on the cross, so that we might die to sins and live for righteousness; ‘by his wounds you have been healed.’ For ‘you were like sheep going astray,’ but now you have returned to the Shepherd and Overseer of your souls.”

What beautiful news! Jesus didn’t just show us how to suffer—He suffered for us. His wounds bring healing to our wounded hearts. Because He bore our sins, we are now free to die to the old ways of sin and self-protection and to live for righteousness. And because we were once wandering sheep, we have now come home to the Shepherd who watches over us with perfect love and care.

This is what empowers us to endure unjust suffering without becoming bitter or vengeful. We are no longer lost. We belong to the One who laid down His life for us.

Personal Reflection Questions

Take a few quiet moments with the Lord and consider these questions:

  1. When you think about a current or recent situation where you felt treated unfairly, what was your first response? How might “entrusting yourself to him who judges justly” look different in that same situation?
  2. Is there someone in your life right now (a coworker, family member, or authority figure) whom God might be inviting you to treat with unexpected grace—even if they don’t “deserve” it?
  3. How does knowing that Jesus was wounded for your healing change the way you view your own pain or the hurts others have caused you?
  4. Where might God be inviting you to set a healthy, loving boundary right now? What would that look like, and how can you entrust the results to Him?
  5. As someone who has returned to the Shepherd and Overseer of your soul, how can you live with both Christlike endurance and wise boundaries this week?

A Closing Prayer

Lord Jesus, thank You for walking the hardest road ahead of us. Thank You for never retaliating, even when You were treated with such cruelty. Help me to follow in Your steps today—responding with grace when I can and setting wise, loving boundaries when I need to. When I feel the sting of injustice, remind me that I am safe in Your hands and that You are my just Judge. Heal the places in my heart that still ache. Give me the courage to do good, the wisdom to protect what You have entrusted to me, and the peace of knowing I am held by You—the Shepherd who lovingly watches over my soul.

I love You, Jesus. Help me to live like I do. Amen.

You are deeply loved, and you are not walking this path alone. The same Savior who endured the cross walks with you, step by step, giving both grace to endure and wisdom to live freely.

A Sheep’s Journey Through Psalms -102

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The Cry of the Afflicted

Beloved brothers and sisters in Christ,

How tenderly our Lord invites us into the heart of Psalm 102! This is not the polished prayer of a theologian in a quiet study; it is the raw, tear-soaked cry of one who feels utterly spent. The superscription calls it “A prayer of an afflicted man. When he is faint and pours out his lament before the LORD.” We do not know the author’s name, but we know his pain—and in knowing it, we discover that our own sorrows are never hidden from the God who stoops to listen. Let us walk through this beloved psalm together, verse by verse, letting the Holy Spirit illumine its riches for our souls today.

Verses 1–2 – The Urgent Cry of the Afflicted
“Hear my prayer, LORD; let my cry come to you. Do not hide your face from me when I am in distress. Turn your ear to me; when I call, answer me quickly.”The psalmist wastes no time with formalities. He is desperate, and he knows the only safe place is the Father’s ear. Notice the tender intimacy: he does not say “O God” in distant reverence alone; he says “LORD”—Yahweh, the covenant-keeping God who has promised never to forsake His own. In our own seasons of fainting—whether illness, grief, betrayal, or spiritual dryness—may we learn this same holy boldness. The same Spirit who helped this sufferer cry out now helps us, for “the Spirit himself intercedes for us through wordless groans” (Romans 8:26). Our Father does not turn away from a broken heart; He draws near.

Verses 3–11 – The Depth of Human Frailty
Here the psalmist paints a heartbreaking self-portrait. His days “vanish like smoke,” his bones burn like a furnace, his heart withers like grass. He feels like “a pelican of the wilderness,” “an owl among the ruins,” a lonely sparrow on a housetop. Even his enemies mock him, and he sees his own life as a lengthening shadow about to disappear.

Oh, dear friend, have you ever felt this seen? When cancer treatments leave you exhausted, when depression makes every day feel like a desert, when sin or sorrow makes you feel unclean and forgotten—the psalmist has been there. Yet notice something beautiful: even in describing his misery, he never stops speaking to the Lord. His pain becomes his prayer. This is the Christian way. We do not deny our suffering; we bring it, raw and unedited, to the feet of the One who bore our griefs and carried our sorrows (Isaiah 53:4).

Verses 12–22 – The Turning of Hope: An Everlasting God Who Loves Zion
“But you, LORD, sit enthroned forever; your renown endures through all generations.” What a glorious pivot! The psalmist lifts his eyes from his own ashes to the throne that never shakes. God’s compassion for Jerusalem (Zion) is not abstract theology—it is personal love. He will “arise and have compassion,” rebuild the ruined city, and hear the groans of prisoners. The nations will one day fear the name of the Lord, and kings will see His glory.

Beloved, this is the gospel breaking through the Old Testament. The God who heard Israel’s cry in Egypt is the same God who heard the cry of His Son on the cross. And He is still the God who rebuilds broken lives. When we feel like ruins, He sees future praise. The psalmist’s hope is not wishful thinking; it is anchored in the character of Yahweh, who “will respond to the prayer of the destitute” (v. 17). Take heart! Your story is not over. The God who rebuilt Zion is rebuilding you, stone by living stone, into a dwelling place for His glory.

Verses 23–28 – The Unchanging God and the Secure Future
The psalmist returns briefly to his frailty—“He has broken my strength”—yet immediately clings to eternity: “Your years go on through all generations… But you remain the same, and your years will never end.” Here the New Testament lifts this psalm into even brighter light. The writer of Hebrews quotes verses 25–27 and applies them directly to Jesus Christ: “In the beginning, Lord, you laid the foundations of the earth… They will perish, but you remain” (Hebrews 1:10–12). The eternal Son of God, who became afflicted for us, now reigns forever. Because He lives, our children and grandchildren will be established before Him. The psalm ends not with despair but with the quiet confidence of a child safe in the Father’s arms: “The children of your servants will live in your presence; their descendants will be established before you.”

Dear Christian, this is our inheritance. The same unchanging Christ who walked through the valley of the shadow with the psalmist walks with us today. When our bodies fail, our families scatter, or our plans crumble, we can whisper with the psalmist, “But you, O Lord, remain the same.” That truth is not cold doctrine—it is a warm embrace.

A Closing Prayer for Us
Gracious Father, thank You for giving us this psalm. When we feel faint, teach us to cry out as this dear saint did. When our strength fails, lift our eyes to Your eternal throne. And when we wonder if You care, remind us that You cared enough to send Your Son to share our afflictions so that we might share His glory. Establish our children and grandchildren in Your presence, we pray, for Jesus’ sake. Amen.

May the Lord who heard this ancient prayer hear yours today, beloved. He is near to the brokenhearted, and He will never let you go. In the strong name of Jesus, our eternal Redeemer—go in peace.

Grief and the Christian Faith

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Grief is an inescapable reality in a fallen world. The sting of loss — whether through broken relationships, death or shattered dreams — cuts deeply into the human soul. Yet, for the Christian, grief is not a solitary or hopeless journey. It is a journey walked under the sovereign hand of God, illuminated by the promises of Scripture< and sustained by the hope of Christ’s victory over sin and death.

The Bible does not shy away from the rawness of grief. From the anguished cries of Job (Job 3:11) to David’s lament over his fallen son (2 Samuel 18:33), Scripture acknowledges that sorrow is a natural response to loss. The Christian perspective begins with the foundational truth of the Fall: sin has fractured God’s good creation, bringing death and decay into the world (Genesis 3:17-19, Romans 5:12). Grief, then, 7is not an anomaly but a consequence of living in a world marred by sin. It is a reminder that things are not as they were meant to be.

Yet, this recognition does not leave us in despair. The Christian faith emphasizes that even in this brokenness, God remains sovereign. Nothing, not even the deepest pain, falls outside His Divine Purpose. In grief, we are invited to trust that God is working, even when His ways are inscrutable.

For the believer in Christ, grief is not borne alone. Psalm 34:18 assures us, “The Lord is near to the brokenhearted and saves the crushed in spirit.” This promise anchors the Christian’s understanding of suffering: God does not abandon His people in their sorrow but draws near to them. Jesus Himself, the Man of Sorrows (Isaiah 53:3) entered into human suffering, wept at the tomb of Lazarus (John 11:35) and bore our griefs on the cross (Isaish 53:4). In Christ, we find a High Priest who sympathizes with our weakness (Hebrews 4:15), offering comfort that is both divine and deeply personal.

Christian theology underscores that this comfort is not mere sentiment, but a reality rooted in God’s covenant faithfulness. He has promised never to leave or forsake his people (Deuteronomy 31:6, Hebrews 13:5). Even in the darkest valley, the Christian can echo David’s confidence: “You are with me; Your rod and Your staff, they comfort me” (Psalm 23:4).

While grief is real, it is not the final word. The Christian faith clings tenaciously to the hope of the resurrection and the making of a new Earth where death, sorrow and suffering will be no more. Paul writes in 1 Thessalonians 4:13 that believers “do not grieve as others who have no hope.” This does not mean that Christians avoid tears or suppress sorrow — Jesus Himself wept — but that their grief is tempered by the certainty of Christ’s triumph over death. Because Jesus rose from the grave, those who are united to Him by faith will also rise (1 Corinthians 15:20-22). Death has been defeated, and the day is coming when “He will wipe away every tear from their eyes” (Revelation 21:4) when the new heavens and earth are created for us.

This hope reshapes how we mourn. Loss is temporary; reunion is eternal. For the Christian, grieving is an act of waiting — waiting until the fulfillment of God’s promises will come to pass. The promises of removing the curse of sin and restoring creation to how it should be.

Grieving as a Christian involves both lament and trust. Lament is not a sign of weak faith, but a biblical response to pain. The Psalms are filled with cries of anguish – “How long O Lord?” (Psalm 13:1) – that model honest wrestling before God. We are free to pour out our hearts, knowing that He hears and cares. At the same time, trust in God’s sovereignty and goodness steadies us. Romans 8:28 assures us that “for those who love God all things work together for good.” This does not erase pain but reframes it within God’s redemptive plan.

Practically this might mean weeping over a loved one’s death while clinging to the promise of eternal life. It might mean wrestling with unanswered questions while resting in the truth that God’s wisdom surpasses our own (Isaiah 55:8-9). It is a posture of humility, acknowledging our limits and God’s infinite goodness.

Finally, the Christian faith emphasizes that grief is not meant to be endured alone. The church, as the body of Christ, is called to “weep with those who weep (Romans 12:15). Fellowship with other believers provides tangible support – prayers, meals or simply a listening ear. Moreover, God has given us the means of grace – Scripture, prayer and the sacraments – to sustain us in sorrow. The Word reminds us of God’s promises, prayer draws us into His presence, and Communion offers a foretaste of the heavenly banquet where all tears will cease.

Grieving as a Christian is a paradox. It is sorrow mingled with hope; lament tempered by trust. We mourn deeply because we love deeply, yet we lift our eyes to the One who hold all things in His hands. In the end, our grief is not the end. Christ is risen, God is Sovereign, and the day of restoration draws near. Until then, we grieve as those who belong to Him, resting in His unfailing love and looking forward to the dawn when mourning will give way to everlasting joy.

Allowing Grief to take Place

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I ran across a quote the other day that speaks volumes: “For those who love life, immortality is no consolation in death” – Simone de Beauvoir. We understand, as Christians, that death has lost its ultimate power over us. We know, from Scripture, that our immortal soul, once redeemed by Jesus, will spend eternity with Him. We are even told that it will be reunited with a new body in heaven. Yet, we still grieve over the death of a loved one. This is appropriate on two levels.

First, if the one we have lost was not a believer in Jesus Christ, we grieve because they are truly gone. There is no meeting them again in the afterlife. Their death, for all intents and purposes, is final for us. That relationship we had with them has been sundered forever. Truly, it is appropriate to grieve for them.

Second, even if the person was a believer, even with the hope we have of being reunited with them in heaven, it is appropriate to grieve the loss. For now, the fellowship has been broken, Things are not the same. While we do not grieve as those who have no hope this does not mean we cannot or should not grieve. Death is an intruder, an interloper. It is not without reason the New Testament calls it “the last enemy.”

We grieve over loss because we have been cut off, at least temporarily, from the ones we love. For instance, we may be glad that a child is doing well at college across the country. We expectantly look forward to Christmas break when we will see them again but it doesn’t mute the emptiness of their bedroom we pass everyday. Death magnifies those feelings because we cannot call them on the phone and hear their voice like we can one separated only by distance.

One of the tragedies of our society, as well as today’s church, is not allowing people to adequately grieve. Because we are embarrassed for them or because we have not processed our own grief, we do not allow them to fully grieve and begin the road to healing. When Lazarus died, it wasn’t just Mary and Martha that mourned. Jesus did too. He knew He could resurrect Lazarus. He knew He was going to resurrect Lazarus and yet He still grieved. Knowing that it was okay for our Lord to grieve should be good enough for allowing His children to grieve also. It is a natural response to loss that must be allowed and there is no right way or wrong way to grieve, nor is there a time frame after which it is not allowable. The only restriction placed on grieving in the Bible is that we are not to grieve without hope, as a pagan might.

Modern psychology doesn’t help either. Since Freud’s time it has looked upon grief as a disease, as though it were a sickness like mumps or chicken pox, easily cured with the right combination of drugs or therapies. Only when we accept that for now, until a new heaven and earth are made by God, that suffering and loss are a normal part of our existence and grief is a normal reaction to loss, will we be able to help individuals cope with grief. We will sit with them, cry with them, wonder why with them and listen to their pain without offering stupid, meaningless platitudes. In short, we will experience their life with them and, in doing so, enrich both ours and theirs.

I leave you with this quote:  “We are told that it is perfectly legitimate for believer to suffer grief. Our Lord Himself was a man of sorrows and acquainted with grief. Though grief may reach to the root of our souls it must not result in bitterness. Grief is a legitimate emotion, at times even a virtue, but there must be no place in the soul for bitterness.” R.C. Sproul, The Dark Night of the Soul, Tabletalk, March 2008