Carrying Grief Too Long

At a wedding I officiated recently I was reminded of how lengthy the grieving process can be. When I met with the couple prior to the wedding to discuss the specifics of the ceremony, the bride asked me if I would make sure to mention her sister, who had passed away nearly ten years ago. Another sister, who had been very young at the time of the loss was taking the deceased sister’s place as Maid of Honor. But the bride asked me to acknowledge the sister who had passed as the “Maid of Honor in Spirit.” I believe that honoring the significant people we have lost at special occasions like weddings is a wonderful way to pay tribute to them and to keep their memory alive, so I was happy to fulfill the request.

In the opening prayer at the ceremony, I gave God thanks for the life of the sister who died, and for the spirit of love that surrounded her memory on that special day and always. As is often the case when praying for a lost loved one, I could feel the weight of the words on the congregation. But it felt very appropriate given what I was praying for and once the prayer was concluded, the wedding proceeded in joyous fashion.

After the ceremony, while I was waiting to have my picture taken, I ventured across the patio on which the wedding had been held in order to talk with the bride’s parents. The girl’s father shook my hand and thanked me for officiating, and for every word I said, especially for the acknowledgment of his late daughter. He then said that the bride had not given him or anyone else a heads-up that she had asked me to mention her sister in the ceremony. I realized what a shock it must have been to hear me pray for her unexpectedly. I apologized and said that if I had realized the bride had not told them about her request, I would have certainly made an effort to clue-them-in myself before the ceremony.

At that point the man gestured to his youngest daughter, who had been the stand-in Maid of Honor. I believe she was around ten years old. She had her face in her hands and she was crying. Her mother was sitting next to her with her arm around the girl’s shoulder. I apologized again to the dad for shocking the family by bringing up their loss without warning. He said, “It’s O.K. The feelings had to come out some time anyway.” I know he was referring mostly to his young daughter’s feelings of loss for the sister she had barely known. But there was also something in his expression that told me he was speaking not just for her, but for the whole family. In other words, my strong sense was that grief was just below the surface for them much of the time. At that point he traded places with his wife, with whom I then had a similar conversation. Finally, I offered my sympathies to the little girl before taking my place with the newlyweds for picture time.

On my drive home I thought a great deal about the dad’s comment. It seemed likely that after suffering the tragic death of a child, and a sister, this family had probably gone the way of so many people – they had never fully grieved their loss. Of course, a loved one who passes away will never, nor should ever be forgotten by the people they leave behind. And even if the person is in the oft-referenced “better place,” meaning heaven, it is a simple fact that they will never again walk the earth with the people who loved them, never celebrate another birthday or Christmas, never attend another wedding. There will always be an empty spot in the hearts of those who were closest to the deceased. But, nine years is a long time for tears of loss to be lurking just below the surface of the survivors’ emotions.

The experience brought to mind one of my seminary classes which focused on ministering to those who had been touched by loss. At some point in the class our professor had each of us share something in our lives which we were actively grieving. I shouldn’t have been surprised (and yet I was) that each and every one of the fifteen or so class members was in a grieving process over something significant. Many were dealing with deaths, some with a divorce or other broken relationship, some with a loss due to a serious health issue they or someone they knew was facing, and so on. But every single one of us, the professor included was grieving something.

What makes it so hard to let go of our losses? At most every funeral I conduct I encourage the family members to allow themselves and one another to grieve, “no matter how long it takes.” By that I mean they should be sad, as sad as they need to be, for as long as that sadness may last; that they should not rush their grief, nor tell others they have grieved long enough and should be “over it”. I want to make sure they know that no one can decide for them what “long enough” looks like.

At the same time, I do believe that grieving is a process, which in part means that it moves along a continuum. My partner in ministry Allen Eaton says asks people, “How do you rate your grief, if a 1 means you’re totally fine and 10 means you’re so sad you can’t get out of bed.” The idea that follows is that day-by day, a healthy grieving process moves incrementally from a higher number to a lower one. If a person is stuck at a grief level of 7 for a year, they’re probably not moving through a healthy process and may be stuck.

Thinking of grief as a burden we must carry, my mind goes to Matthew 11. Jesus tells us to exchange burdens with Him, to let him teach us how to live life, to take on his light load and give him the heavy load we carry (11:28-30). He felt everything we feel, including grief. He can teach us how to grieve.
There are few burdens greater than the one we carry when we lose a person we love. Even if we’re confident in the deepest part of our being that we’ll be reunited with them in heaven, they still won’t be with us in this life again. If we give our yoke of grief to Jesus daily, He will help us move from a 10 to a 1 on the continuum. And He will do that in His time, in the time of the Father, which is perfect.

What losses have you suffered? Where are you on the grief continuum for each? Is there something that keeps you from turning that burden over to Jesus? What is holding you back?

Care in a Time of Loss: Thank You Dale Carnegie

One of my top 5 Personality Themes (or Strengths, according to my favorite personality assessment tool, StrengthsFinder by Buckingham and Clifton) is Connectedness. The authors describe the Strength in this way: People strong in the Connectedness theme have faith in the links between all things. They believe there are few coincidences and that almost every event has a reason. I see connections – between one person and another, between people groups, between situations, between the present and the past.

This past weekend I had the honor of officiating a funeral service for a man I had never met. As is often the case, I believe God used me to provide a service that honored and celebrated the man’s life, helped his family and friends begin a healthy grieving process, linked his life with the legacy he left behind and made lovingly clear my belief that there is only one way to Heaven (Jesus Christ). By the end of the service, I’m confident that the family and friends of the man who had passed away felt their loved one was celebrated in a very personal way. But sometimes I wonder how I’m able to meet family members for a brief time, then shortly thereafter speak about a person I’ve never met in a way that makes those that loved them feel a fitting tribute has been paid.

As I pondered this the day after the funeral, I was reminded of something I learned 25 years ago when I first read Dale Carnegie’s How to Win Friends and Influence People: Express sincere interest in others. Way back then I internalized this concept and it has helped me in all my years in business, in ministry and life in general. I think the key to the idea is the word sincere.

I realized when I was delivering the message about the deceased that I really meant what I was saying. Shortly before I came up to speak, I had learned as much as I could about the man’s life from his family. Then, when I stood before the funeral attendees, I simply recapped what I had been told. And I was able to deliver that recap with sincerity, because I sincerely believed what I was saying. I guess that’s another form of connectedness. Through the eyes of this man’s family, I was able to see into the lives of so many other families and individuals I’ve known. I was even able to see parallels with my own life.

Because of those connections, I was able to speak honestly and passionately. Even though I had never met the man who died, I knew him through the experiences of others. I understood the loss the family was feeling, because I’ve cared for others who have suffered great loss and because I’ve suffered loss myself. And of course, just as God brought people to care for me when I needed it, He used me to care for this family in their time of need.

I feel greatly blessed that I am able to see points of connection between people, circumstances, the past, present and future. And I’m so fortunate that God can use things I learned 25 years ago to bless people today! Thank you, Dale Carnegie. And thank you, God!

Isaiah Speaks GPS

Several fascinating little things happened on my recent 3-day retreat in Madison WI. First, as I was going through the thoughtful gifts I had received from my team members after leaving my ministry staff position, I came upon a devotional called Streams in the Desert (written by L.B. Cowman, published by Zondervan in 1997, first published in 1925). The fact that I was given this as a gift wasn’t the fascinating part. It was my opening it and reading that day’s devotion that was behavior I normally wouldn’t expect from myself. I’ve always wanted to be a “devotions guy,” but my spiritual disciplines have never been that…disciplined. But in the case of Streams, I was immediately taken by the reading for that day (March 30) and I knew I would read more in the future.

The verse for the day was Isaiah 51:11 – But now, all you who light fires and provide yourselves with flaming torches, walk in the light of your fires and of the torches you have set ablaze. This is what you shall receive from my hand: You will lie down in torment. Having just gone through a year-long process seeking God’s will for the next phase of my ministry and life journey, and having ended that process by following what felt like a very clear leading to leave the church staff position I had held for nearly seven years (a very hard leading to act on for many reasons), I felt God’s hand of affirmation on my shoulder. I needed that affirmation from God. But I also needed (and will always need) the reminder that the only clear path to walk is that which is lit by His light. (Part of what was interesting about that piece of the story is that I discovered the next day that I had actually read the devotion for the WRONG DAY! I read the March 30 devotion on March 31 by accident!)

Finally, in addition to my staff farewell booty, I was for the first time accompanied by a GPS housed in my new phone. I’ve never had nor used a GPS before. But since I wanted to find the hotel without struggle, as well as finding a spice store and a few other somewhat obscure locations, I gave the thing a try. I immediately realized that I would have faced a fair amount of frustration had I relied on my own instincts to get to those places. A map would have helped a little. And MapQuest would have been a good option, but I’ve been misled by that before. But the little voice coming out of my phone was incredible. It knew the names of tiny little obscure streets, it immediately recalculated my route when I foolishly second-guessed it and a flag popped up on the screen when I reached my destinations.

On my second morning in Madison, when I went back to reread the devotion from Isaiah 51 and realized I had read the wrong day, I pondered both the verse and the GPS experience. And I found that God was using both to speak to me. And He was saying the same thing through His Word and the GPS. “Follow me.” “I know the plans I have for you…” “My paths are straight and I’ll shine a light at your feet always.”

Now if I can just keep my ears open for the voice that says, “Recalculating route…make the next legal U-Turn and proceed in the opposite direction,” I might stay on course just a little better and avoid some of the turmoil that comes with providing my own torch!