Saturday, January 21, 2012

A Lesson in Responding to Comforters while Journeying through Grief

I (Gabe) think I’m still amazed at how our friends and family surrounded us with words of encouragement and tangible actions of compassion throughout this whole grieving process. As I think of Christ’s call to his disciples to “weep with those who weep,” there have been many who have entered into our brokenness with us. “Thank you” seems like a shallow phrase to describe the genuine gratitude that we have towards our loved ones as you sought to be agents of God’s comfort.

There was one thing that surprised me about my role within the grieving process though, which led to a lesson I’m learning about following Christ in the midst of grief. Those who are grieving have a unique stewardship of gracious response toward those who long to bring comfort. That may sound strange…it even hits me after typing it as being almost ungrateful for the compassion of others – which is far from my intention, but when emotions are rolling in the freshness of pain, we need to remember that we are called to respond with grace to all who reach out in imperfect compassion.

I recall taking classes on counseling in Seminary on how to enter into the pain of others with genuine compassion, empathic presence and timely scriptures of hope, but I never really thought of the unique stewardship the griever has towards those who comfort him/her. This griever/comforter relationship must be understood as dynamic rather than one-way; we can’t expect everyone to be an “expert” comforter.

At moments of intense grief, there are times silence and solitude are what your soul longs for, and you just want to be left alone. Whereas at other times you long to feel the embrace of community. There are times a word of remembrance concerning God’s goodness speaks words of life to your soul, whereas at other times it just comes across as preachy. There are times when you need to hear that God has a plan of deliverance for his broken creation, but other times all you want to hear are the words “I love you and I don’t understand the pain you’re going through.” There are times when others share their similar stories, and it comforts your heart. Whereas other times you just want people to notice the uniqueness of your story, and in our selfishness don’t want to talk about others’ experiences.

The difficult thing – in the midst of grief – is not to expect those who long to comfort us to be omniscient…to be God – as though they could know the exact thing we long to hear in that moment. Brokenness is often accompanied with its crew of emotional chaos, confusion, and mystery, and we can’t expect others’ words of comfort to always line up with our sentiments at that moment.

This is where the stewardship of gracious response really resonates. As we seek to follow Christ in the midst of grief, we pray for the Holy Spirit to empower us to see the heart of those who long to comfort us, although – in our sinful brokenness as imperfect grievers – we perceive it as shallow, cheap, or cliché. We allow Christ to be the mediator by which all words of comfort pass through. We see, hear, and accept imperfect compassion through the perfect shed blood of Jesus. 

I love what C.S. Lewis says as the closing words of his book The Problem of Pain, “Pain provides an opportunity for heroism; the opportunity is seized with surprising frequency.” There have been many who follow Christ that have exuded this stouthearted grace while grieving, and to them I watch in awe. For those of us who continue to experience loss, wade in brokenness and have seasons of chaos, may we follow Christ in how we respond in grace toward those who seek to imperfectly comfort us, showing the world how to grieve as gospel-shaped people.


1 comment:

  1. Gabe (& Allie) ...

    The greatest thing anyone's ever said to me was... "We will sit in the darkness with you."
    It was the first time, that as I was grieving, the weight of responding to cliches was lifted off of my heart... but now I resent people that don't know how to just sit in that darkness, and needed to read you words. Thank you. Love you. Heavyhearted for you.

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