Faith Doesn’t Erase Grief

Embracing the Experience and Finding Hope

Kate J. Meyer, MDiv, LPC

Contents 

You Can Hate This
…And Love God
Setting the Foundation
Emotions
Early Grief
Middle Grief 
Lasting Grief
A Changed Relationship
Moving Forward
A Final Word

Appendices

1 Corinthians 13 and Self-Love
Psalm 23 and Grief
Journaling
Get Creative with Emotional Expression
Guided Free Association
Psalm Writing
Special Considerations: Trauma / Disenfranchised Grief /  Pandemics, Natural Disasters, and Mass Casualties / Pet Loss /  Non-Death Losses / Dating / Children and Teens

Introduction 

Faith doesn’t erase grief is written first and foremost for the griever who is also a believer. Too often Christian grievers are  “invited” or “encouraged” to rejoice that their loved one is in “a better place” rather than focus on their grief. Though well-intentioned,  this general stance of the Church is flat wrong and inflicts damage  upon all to whom it is presented. It is time for Christian grievers to  be told the truth. Grief is not an indication of lapsed faith, and  believing in the existence of heaven does not require grief to be  pushed to the side.  

I’ve found most Christian books about grief altogether ignore  the truths found in psychology, so this book interweaves those truths  with the Word of God to help readers recognize that, despite what  might have been taught or preached to them, grief and faith do not  have an inverse relationship. It’s not either/or. Learning instead to  embrace the both/and relationship empowers grievers, pastors,  friends, and families to live into the natural state of grief and to do so  with God’s understanding. 

 This book can be read from cover to cover or broken up as  needed, either alone or with others in a small group setting. A special note to pastors, group facilitators, counselors, friends, and  families: remember that each griever’s journey is unique to that per son. It is important to allow for different stories and experiences to  be shared without fear of comparison or shame. If small group work  is desired, I have found it works best to gather groups based upon the  same type of death (i.e., spouse, child, sibling, etc.). I also find it most  effective to group new grievers separately from those beyond their  first year of grief. 

The goal of this book is not to erase grief, because grief is a  natural part of life. Instead, the goal of this book is to show you how  to embrace the fullness of your grief, including moments of faith related doubts and anger at God, and to teach you grief does not go  away simply because your faith is a central component of your life. In  fact, faith very often complicates grief. This book shows a way to face  those complications and to explore your faith by finally being honest  about your grief. In doing so, you will learn how to live with renewed  purpose, a deeper understanding of self and God, and, if desired, a  continued connection with your loved one.  

It can be intimidating to begin this kind of process, to intention ally confront pain. Remember that it consumes more energy to avoid  pain than to confront it, and numbing the pain only delays the inevitable. Dosing your exposure to the pain is okay, but try to do so with  a plan for when you will return to continue your work.  

Congratulations on taking this important step of acknowledging  and honoring your grief. This is your road, so you choose the pace.  Honor your pace and give yourself breaks when you need them. Remember, you do not walk this road alone.

You Can Hate This… 

You are a Christian. You love God and try to live your life according to God’s leading and what the Bible teaches. And then, your  world is turned upside down by death.  

In the first few days, it seems almost bearable. The support system,  including your faith community, is on high alert: arranging food, sending cards, calling, and offering assistance with cleaning or children. You  make it through the funeral, and when someone compliments your  strength, you smile and quote Philippians 4:13. The person smiles and  nods before offering, for the thousandth time, to do anything you need.  Then, you return home to give your true feelings space to breathe. 

As days turn to weeks, you notice it is increasingly difficult to  keep up the façade. Tolerance for clichés and Bible verses about  heaven is waning at a significant rate. Yet, because you couldn’t come  up with another believable excuse to say no, you finally agree to go  to lunch with a friend. While preparing, you try to talk yourself into  a positive outlook, and by the time you reach the restaurant, you’re  cautiously optimistic about the experience.  

And then it happens. It comes when you least expect it and without any way for you to stop it: the dam breaks, and the friend seated  across from you is on the receiving end.

I’m not strong, this isn’t okay, and I don’t care about heaven!  I hate this. I hate everything about this!  

Your friend looks at you—you know the way, head tilted with a pity  smile—in stunned silence. Though there is a part of you (a small,  miniscule part) that feels badly this one friend was on the receiving  end of the full force of a pent-up reaction, the relief of finally speaking those words outweighs any guilt or embarrassment.  Until, that is, your friend regains the power of speech and  responds with something along the lines of, “You don’t really mean  that. It’s just the grief talking. I know when my…” You don’t hear the  rest of the story because you just can’t dig deep enough to care about  your friend’s grief. Now you’re stuck at a table with a full plate—who  can eat?—and anger added to the mix of listening to someone else’s  story of their grief and perfect faith. Great. 

If any part of the above resonated with you, there is something  important you need to know: it is okay to hate grief. It is okay to feel  far from God or not even care where God might be in all of this. You  are not a bad person, and you are not a bad Christian. You are having a natural reaction.

A Natural Reaction

Most people are quite young when they learn the hard reality that life  leads to death. The truth is first taught subtly with something simple  like the explanation of the seasons before it is more fully explained  when a pet dies. For Christian believers, death is discussed openly  each Church year in the season of Lent. Despite all this talk and education, though, there is very little preparation for what comes next for those who continue to live after someone dies; that part is always  rushed through. The trees die, but it’s okay because spring will come. Jesus died, but it’s okay because he rose from the dead and sent us the  Holy Spirit. Your husband died, but it’s okay because now he’s in heaven.  

Yes, trees do bloom again, Jesus did rise and send the Spirit, and  your person now lives in heaven; but that is not the end of it. Those  statements focus on the one who died and say nothing of you and  how death impacts you.  

Grief, in its most simplified form, is nothing more than a natural  reaction to death. Someone you love was here and now they aren’t. It  is the absence of presence that is causing the deep pain you experience in all moments of the day and night. Grief is what happens  during the in-between time, after someone in your world dies and  before you learn to continue living in your new reality. As you learn  about grief, you gain control over it; you attain the ability to shrink it  and relocate it to a less primary place in your existence. As you practice grief work, the raw, persistent, and tender nature of the pain  diminishes and fades to the background. In short, as you work  through the remaining chapters of this book, you will progress and  heal. 

Grief is the greatest cost of love. It is a risk we take because we  are beings created to be in relationship, because we thrive in community. So, though we know one day we will come face-to-face with  grief, we take the risk and develop relationships based on all kinds of  love.  

And then that day comes. In the beginning we survive thanks to  the numbness God built in us as a defense against the pain, but that  numbness only lasts so long. And when it fades, and the pain becomes real, that is when feelings of hate towards grief can begin to build.

I Can Hate This?

If you were raised like me, then hate is a word you were told not to  use. Perhaps this is because the feeling summarized in this one  small word resulted in murder and selling a relative to the Egyptian  slave trade. Esau hated his brother Jacob for stealing Esau’s birth 

right, and from that hatred Esau plotted to kill Jacob.1 Then, in the  next generation, Jacob’s sons hated their youngest brother Joseph, a  hatred born out of jealousy, to the point of throwing him in a well  and selling him to the highest bidder.2 In just these two examples  we see that hatred can, in fact, lead to disastrous consequences. 

There certainly is wisdom in not allowing hatred to rule or  drive decisions, but there is something to be said, too, for channel ing it into something positive. It is good, for instance, to hate injus tice and to use that hatred to propel you to speak and act for change.  Maybe that is too big of an example, though; after all, we know that  as Christians we are to fight against injustice; let’s return, then, to  grief. 

In the first days and weeks, grievers are protected from feeling  the full weight of grief. They have enough presence of mind to tend  to many of the basics, like eating and drinking and, maybe, bathing,  and are often aided in other tasks by people in their community. As time marches on, however, that numbness begins to fade. The full  reality settles in and numbness is lost.  

As a homework assignment, I once asked an adolescent child to  draw a picture of grief personified. To this point in the counseling  relationship, the child was able to talk in vivid detail about the death— moment by moment, in fact—but was unable to emote anything. Though younger children are the best at unabashed emotional  expression, adolescents can often still call it up when given the opportunity or when pushed to the limit. This is why some parents of grieving teens might witness a tantrum the likes of which any toddler  would be proud. Since this child was unable to give voice to grief  emotions within talk therapy, art therapy was enlisted. The result  from that single homework assignment is the best personification of  grief I have found to date. 

The most obvious part of the drawing was the masked figure  the child called a thief: a burglar, complete with a bag on his back.  The child and I discussed this figure before moving the discussion  to the bag. On paper, it was simply the outline of a large bag, no  bulges or details of any kind, but the implication was there. As we  discussed the items hidden in the bag, the child finally felt free  enough to share emotions, and it became clear the child hated that  burglar, though not for the reason I anticipated. My assumption  was that the burglar was death, but as the child described the contents of the bag, it was revealed the burglar was actually grief.  Death steals a person, every facet of them; grief steals living from  the survivor. 

Grief steals different things from different people, but there are  some general similarities no matter the loss or age. We’ll visit these at  length throughout the book, so for now here is a sampling of the essential items that can be stolen from us: routine, safety, comfort,  love, and hope.  

This is why it is okay to hate grief. It slinks in the dark; it strikes  when least expected; it steals from your world everything that  brought you a sense of safety and familiarity. Like a thief, grief often  leaves people feeling violated and distraught in a world that will  never be the same, no matter what is done to make it so. Grief  changes the world, it changes the body, it changes the mind, and it  changes the spirit.  

The changes mentioned will be discussed more in later chapters,  so for now we’ll focus on just two of them: world and spirit. To say  the world changes with grief might feel extreme, but it is one of the  first things clients report. Their world looks different and/or feels  different, as if the color, taste, and smell have been drained out.  Additionally, grievers often report a change in other relationships  because of how grievers are treated. 

Although grief is inevitable, American culture today is generally  terrible at it: terrible at recognizing it, validating it, naming it, and  giving it space. Consider, for instance, current cultural norms. First,  society has placed a timeline on grief. Most companies provide three 

paid days of bereavement leave to their employees when the death is  of sufficient importance, as defined by human resources. Three.  After those days, a griever is expected to return to work with the  same focus and productivity as before. As early as three months  after a death, grievers have reported being asked questions such as,  What’s wrong? Did something happen? Why are you sad? Shouldn’t  you be better now? These questions are but the tip of the iceberg. 

By the time twelve months and one day rolls around, people are  expected, by society and close friends alike, to truly be “over it.”  Being “over it” is perhaps one of the greatest misnomers in the world  of grief. How does one “get over” the death of her spouse? How, by  day three hundred and sixty-six, do parents “get over” the death of  their child? 

Another cultural norm relates to how we express grief. The Bible  references tearing one’s clothes, weeping, and wearing ashes for  mourning.5 One need not look all that far back in even American  culture to find adaptations of those practices, such as wearing black  or using an armband for several months, even up to a year, to publicly indicates the wearer is grieving. Today, however, things have  changed. It is not uncommon to see grievers in mourning at the initial learning of death, in the early days, during the funeral or memorial service, and at the graveside. By the time those early days have  passed, though, the allotment of time for acknowledging grief  expression publicly runs out, and suddenly grievers feel the pressure  to privatize their mourning. Unfortunately, silencing grief expressions results in grievers feeling isolated and shamed. Finally, there’s the cultural norm of silence about the deceased.  Those who’ve lost a person to death have a natural need to talk about  the person who died. They want to speak the person’s name, to hear  stories about them, even to laugh with others about memories of the  person and to cry with others who miss them too. Logically, this  need will surge and wane over time. Yet, when a griever attempts  such conversations, often they are met with a change of subject or utter silence. 

If you are a helper—a counselor, pastor, family member, or  friend—reading this book to better assist someone through their  grief, listen carefully: you will not cause additional pain by empa thizing or talking about the deceased if grievers initiate it. If they  mention the person, they’re okay talking about it. You will, however,  cause additional pain if you are unable to sit with their tears or if you  change the subject to a topic more comfortable for you. Every single  bereaved client I’ve worked with has said at least once how much  they miss hearing their loved one’s name. If you are unsure if it is  okay to talk about the departed with your grieving friend, ask them;  I promise, they’ll be honest in their response. If it is a bad day, they’ll  tell you so, but that doesn’t mean to never talk about their loved one,  it just means not that day. Ask again the next time you’re together,  and stay open to what they say.  

Grief changes your world, and for a while you must work every  day to keep up the strong front until you’re back home. But the  changes grief creates in your spirit? Those cannot be controlled.  Suddenly, even the place that has consistently provided community,  connection with God, and support can now feel like the last place  you want to be. Maybe you feel judged for feeling sad and not rejoicing because your loved one is now free of pain. Or perhaps you feel  like an outcast because you are no longer a pair and people don’t  know how to handle singles. You might even feel like a fraud because  you no longer know what you believe—about God, death, heaven, or  other questions of faith. Whatever the reason, Sunday mornings are  now equally challenging and exhausting. Then, in what is thought to  be the safety of your home, you may find yourself experiencing  doubts, feeling angry at God, or wondering why you should even  bother with faith at all.

You Are Not a Bad Christian

Throughout this book I hope to help you trust that engaging in the  questions you have is okay and that hating grief and feeling distant  from God is okay and doesn’t mean you love God any less (although  it may feel like that for a long time). Grief changed you, yes; but  nothing can change who you are at your core. Grief can help you  better understand who you are created to be, but it can’t take that  away from you. Who you are as a beloved child of God is something  permanently protected from the masked burglar of grief. It might  feel far away or out of reach; it might feel unimportant; it might even  feel like something you’d rather never again consider, but who God  created you to be and how God sees you doesn’t change.  

Even if you spend the first eight months telling God how angry  you are. Even if it takes you three years to return to your faith community. Even if you lose the ability to pray. Even if you wrestle nightly  with God. Jacob may have come out of it with a permanent limp, but  he still came out of it, and he did so as a child of God. You will too; and if you can’t have faith in that right now, it’s okay. I have that faith for you. 

Conclusion 

Grievers hate grief. Why? Because it is the natural reaction to death.  Something terrible happened and you need time and space to react  to your changed environment. Beginning with chapter three, this  book will guide you into and through that space. Think of it as a  friend for the journey, a journey that no one should walk alone.  Before that, though, it is important to pause and consider what it  means to hate grief and believe in God. It is important for you to  know that how you are feeling and what you are experiencing does  not mean your faith and love towards God is absent. In fact, it can  be argued that what some view as a turning away from God often  results in a deeper awareness of one’s relationship with God defined  by a new depth of love, appreciation, and trust.

Pause for Whisperings 

At the end of each chapter, space is provided to ponder the Spirit  whisperings you experienced in this chapter. A Spirit whispering  refers to those moments the Holy Spirit alerts you to something  important just for you, something to spend time considering and,  eventually, acting upon. Use these questions to help identify your  whisperings in this chapter: What spoke to you? What challenged  you? What gave you hope? What do you want to make sure  you remember?  

Whatever the whisperings are, take time to record them either  here or in a separate journal. By the end of the book, you’ll have a  treasury of what you and God wrestled with and maybe even a better  glimpse at who you are created to be. Fight the urge to skip this part  and take some time right now. Feel free to keep your thoughts secret  if you’re worried someone else might find them. But capturing what  the Spirit is doing is an essential part of the experience of this book.  You might also include the date on each entry so you will have a  record for future reference. It can be so rewarding to see how things  have changed and, hopefully, how far you’ve come.

…And Love God

Before we go any further, there is something you need to know. Maybe pick up a highlighter or some other way to mark this so  you can come back to it when you doubt yourself. Right now, in your  grief, it is okay not to delve into a study of the referenced passages in  this book. Most references are intentionally limited to footnotes so  you can choose to use the information or not. You have enough on  your plate trying to navigate faith and grief. This is your journey, and if you don’t have the energy to muddle through the texts, that is  okay. Keep note of sections you want to return to and come back when you are able.

Kate J. Meyer, author, counselor, in a professional headshot

Kate J. Meyer, MDiv, LPC, is an ordained minister and licensed professional counselor who has worked in both private practice and hospice care. She is passionate about bringing grief into the light so that all grievers know how to move forward in a healthy, life-giving manner. Kate is also the author of Navigating the Waves of Grief, and The Red Couch and The Yellow Dress, two novels about past mistakes and a challenge to overcome them. She is a dog mom living with her husband in Western Michigan. Visit katejmeyer.com to join her newsletter or follow her on social media.

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