Walking Through Grief Joyfully with the Gospel, Part One

The tears first pooled, then pressed upon my eyelids, finally breaking over the edge and trickling down my face. My daughters and I were watching a modern re-telling of Louisa May Alcott’s classic “Little Women”, and Beth was comforting Jo, explaining that her purpose was never to have big dreams but to be the one from whom the others would find comfort, strength, and blessing until they were grown and off on the adventures to which they had been called.Her life was being cut short in Jo’s eyes, but Beth knew her purpose all along and she was content with that.

My sister’s name was Julie Elizabeth, and when I watched that movie I knew God was giving me another indicator of His sovereignty over her life and seemingly sudden and certainly unexpected death at 39 years old. Now that more than six months have gone by, I can see signs of God’s hand, but when we first heard the news it was just a big shock.

As I plodded through every step in those first days, I felt like I was walking through a sea of molasses in a thick fog. Every thought, every action took place in disoriented slow motion, from the drive to my parents’ home the day after the dreaded phone call to the funeral plans and visitation and burial.

The shining sun on the morning we put her earthly tent in the ground was a soul-blinding testament to the faith to which we all clung. It honed the eternal hope that would carry us through the following days of soul and body-shuddering sobs of which came crashing in at the most inopportune times.

One day it was in the classroom in which I work supporting students with special needs when the little yellow plastic “Mr. Potato Head” glasses landed on the floor. Instantly a memory of a silly picture of my sister in our family photo album with those too-small glasses pressed on her giggly face popped into my head. Another time it was when I was sitting in church trying to sing a Chris Tomlin song and had to rush out to weep in the washroom because that reminded me of how she went to so many of his concerts because she loved to worship her Savior.

On the day that Jesus died, surely the women and men who followed him were assailed by the same soul-crushing grief as they saw the life of their Beloved Rabbi and Friend cut short. The shock would have been overwhelming, and I imagined they walked through that time feeling it was as surreal as I did.

But what a privilege I have of walking through grief with joy this much further past the cross! The fullness of redemption is drawing nearer and nearer and the comfort it has brought me has sharpened the focus of my faith in a way that nothing in my life so far has done.

How did I make it through this acutely painful time? By walking through my grief with the Gospel.

As I drove away from the place where I received the unbelievable phone call, I cried out to my God, His Spirit giving me His words of comfort:  “O death, where is your victory? O death, where is your sting?” The sting of death is sin, and the power of sin is the law. But THANKS BE TO GOD, who gives us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ” (1 Corinthians 15:55-57 ESV, emphasis mine).

Those words screamed in my spirit as I felt a keening that couldn’t be heard by human ears deep in my soul. I clung desperately to the hope of eternal life because I KNEW without a doubt that my sister was with God.

I knew that the faith I had so often mouthed would now require feet. Did I truly believe the Good News that God so loved every precious human He created that He gave His Only Son’s Life in the place of us dirty, rotten sinners so that everyone of us who believed His righteousness was ours would have eternal life? (See John 3:16)

Yes, emphatically, yes!

The gospel would carry me through my grief with joy, even when I was lying on the couch, curled up in a ball, wrapped in an afghan, shuddering with the depth of my sorrow and the pain of my loss. And God was there, giving joy that cannot be explained.

What I do know is that “that the whole creation has been groaning together in the pains of childbirth until now. And not only the creation, but we ourselves, who have the firstfruits of the Spirit, groan inwardly as we wait eagerly for adoption as sons, the redemption of our bodies. For in this hope we were saved. Now hope that is seen is not hope. For who hopes for what he sees? But if we hope for what we do not see, we wait for it with patience” (Rom 8:22-25 ESV).

My sister lived her life for others. Like Beth in Little Women her purpose was to be that friend to everyone whom she knew, blessing them quietly with her faithful love.

Soon after we received the news of my sister’s home-going my thirteen-year-old daughter shared with me a conversation she had had with her Aunt Julie a few years ago.  In this conversation she had asked Julie if she would ever get married. My sister’s answer: “God is my Husband.”

As my daughter recalled this, that day she felt a bit confused by it and decided to look up the meaning of Julie’s name, thinking this might shed some light on her aunt’s answer to her question.

So what does her name mean?  Julie: “youthful, beautiful, vivacious”.  Elizabeth: “Oath of God” or “God is satisfaction”.

I don’t know if Julie ever looked up the meaning of her name or even knew this, but that was just another way God was assuring us that His purposes for her were good and right and perfect, as our God is good and right and perfect.

His love conquers all, and this whole experience has further convinced me that absolutely nothing will be able to separate those who believe the Good News of Jesus Christ from the love of God the Father. (See Romans 8:38-39)

Sister, are you grieving today? Walk through your grief clinging with wholehearted belief to the Good News of Jesus Christ and you will find that the tears of grief that break and spill over your eyelids become mirrors of magnified joy in Him.