Grief

Our Joy is Not in the Trials, but in Him

MARYBETH MCGEE | GUEST Recently, my own words echoed in my head: “Our joy is not found in the trials, but in Him.” Those words—from an article I wrote here last Advent—were suddenly tested in a trial unlike any we weathered before. On May 22, 2025, our home erupted in chaos on the first morning of summer break. My middle son and I discovered that my oldest son had passed away—unexpectedly, quietly, without any warning. At just fourteen, he was gone, and there was nothing we could do. Years of waiting and praying for this child—and his brothers—felt ripped away in an instant. Powerless. Crushed. Broken. Even as I spoke with emergency services, I felt the battle for my soul begin. Shock, fear, anger, and a grief beyond words swirled inside me as I heard the familiar whisper echo from Genesis 3: “Did God really say?” Peter’s words became more real than ever—there truly is an enemy who prowls like a lion, seeking to devour (1 Peter 5:8). I knew this would be a test of my faith. Our family was being called to the front lines of spiritual warfare, and we needed reinforcements. My second call, just minutes later, was to my pastor. Like any good shepherd, he rushed to our home and stepped straight into the chaos. My husband was an hour away at work; our house filled with firefighters, paramedics, and sheriffs—faces my children had rarely seen outside of children’s shows, let alone in our front yard. Over the next several days and weeks, our home was a constant flow of people, tears, laughter, joy, and deep mourning. The circumstances were devastating, but something different was happening. Trials, both great and small, tend to stir up thoughts about gratitude—or the lack thereof. We can’t talk about gratitude without acknowledging the tension between our expectations and our circumstances. If anyone ever had an excuse to skip gratitude during a trial, the loss of a child would seem like a good one. But do we really get a pass because life feels unbearable? As you might guess, my answer is no...

Our Joy is Not in the Trials, but in HimChristina Fox2025-11-22T18:37:42+00:00

Gratitude in the midst of Grief: Finding Hope in the Lord’s Kindness

ELIZABETH TURNAGE | CONTRIBUTOR Imagine this story: A woman’s husband and her son are killed in a car-jacking. After her husband’s death, the 75-year-old widow discovers that he had mortgaged all of their assets to invest in a real estate deal gone sour. Once the wife of a wealthy lawyer, the older woman now finds herself homeless and bankrupt. Her only option is to return to the small hometown and the childhood home she had sworn never to revisit. Despite her protests, her son’s fiancée insists on joining her in the move. If this synopsis sounds familiar, it’s because it’s the plot of Tyler Perry’s movie Ruth, which is based on the book of Ruth. Naomi, the main character, like the biblical character, is an older woman whose heart has become bitter through grief. She resents God and the community who tries to show her His love. When Grief Embitters The biblical Naomi, like many aging women, has suffered multiple losses over the course of her life—the death of her husband and both her sons, the loss of both her homeland and her adopted home, the loss of financial provision and security. When she is forced to return to the home she left years ago, she laments to the women who welcome her, “Do not call me Naomi (pleasant); call me Mara (bitter), for the Almighty has dealt bitterly with me” (Ruth 1:20). Naomi sees the Lord’s sovereign hand in all her losses—family, financial, and home, and is not afraid to name them honestly to God in lament. Many older women can relate to Naomi. As we age, we face a barrage of limitations and losses—the death of a husband or child, the loss of independence that comes with declining vision or mobility, the loss of community when we must move from the home we’ve owned for almost half a century. Add to that the seeming loss of purpose and meaning that came from vibrant work and ministry, and it’s not hard to see why older women might feel that the Lord has dealt bitterly with them....

Gratitude in the midst of Grief: Finding Hope in the Lord’s KindnessChristina Fox2025-11-13T21:15:09+00:00

Sowing in Tears

GINNY VROBLESKY|GUEST He who goes out weeping, carrying seed to sow, will return with songs of joy, carrying sheaves with him. Psalm 126: 6 (NIV) I remember sitting at my computer quietly weeping. I had been unemployed for quite a while. Job hunting has always been one of the hardest things in my life. I felt as though I did not fit anywhere. I had prayed, asking God for help, when suddenly, the phone rang. It was someone I had never met calling from a different state. He was involved in campus ministry and was planning to use some work that I had done years before. I was amazed and touched that God had him call just when I needed some encouragement. But the best was yet to come. He also sent me an email which included some verses from Psalm 126. He who goes out weeping, carrying seed to sow, will return with songs of joy, carrying sheaves with him. Sowing while Weeping At first, I thought those verses applied to persevering when life seemed to be hard. Send out those resumes and keep knocking on doors. But as I have studied this psalm, I have realized that much more is involved. The song is about people who have returned from exile to the longed-for land of promise. In the beginning, they could not believe what had happened: We were like men who dreamed. Our mouths were filled with laughter. They saw what the Lord had done for them. They were where God had led them. Even though I was looking for a new job, I too was where God had led me...

Sowing in TearsChristina Fox2025-10-24T17:22:34+00:00

Held in His Truth: Pregnancy and Infant Loss Awareness

KATHRYN MANN | GUEST Editor's Note: The following contains Kathryn's story about miscarriage. “Kathryn, it’s not looking good today.” These words still haunt me today. Several months ago, I was eight weeks pregnant. Just a few days earlier, my husband and I had gone in for our first appointment. We were full of nerves and excitement. Lub-dub. Lub-dub. Lub-dub. What a privilege to hear our baby’s heart beating–a heart so small yet so strong, creating the most exquisite melody. After a little symptom scare, I went back to the clinic to hear the worst news possible. My baby’s heart had stopped beating. I proclaim God’s goodness every day. Even when my father passed away two years ago, I felt my faith strengthened, and I wanted to encourage others more than ever to trust Him. But the death of my baby shook me. As a mother, you are deeply bonded to your baby from the beginning, and the loss of a baby in the womb is the heartbreaking loss of your child. To the eyes of the world, I do not look like a mother. I have no baby bump. I have no baby in my arms. I do not carry around a diaper bag. Rather, I despair the emptiness of my womb, my arms long to hold my baby, and I carry the weight of grief on my shoulders. From the very moment I found out I was growing a babe in my womb, I never ceased praying for my baby, especially for my baby’s heart. Lord, keep that heart growing and beating strong. And then to hear the heart was beating no more…why had God not answered my prayers?...

Held in His Truth: Pregnancy and Infant Loss AwarenessChristina Fox2025-09-21T15:08:02+00:00

Grief and Lament in Texas: Weeping with Hope

MARISSA BONDURANT | CONTRIBUTOR A cloud of collective grief hovers over Texas. For days after the flood, there was an actual dark cloud over all central Texas as the whole of creation groaned together in the pains of grief and longing (Rom. 8:22). A suppressive force of humidity mixed with shock and stirred with sorrow made it hard to breathe, sleep, or even make basic decisions. Although the headlines focus on the heartache in Texas, I know that this grief is seeping much farther from here. So many of the people who died were visiting from all over the country. Little girls at summer camp. Families camping under majestic cypress trees. Grandparents bunked up with grandchildren to make precious memories over the holiday. And now, thousands of people across the country grieve the loss of loved ones, co-workers, classmates, teammates, neighbors, and friends. Living in San Antonio, the Guadalupe River is considered our backyard play place. Everyone I know is only 1 or 2 degrees away from the devastation. My church alone had three girls at Camp Mystic the day the water rose. A dear friend of ours is on the ground doing recovery work. He’s got a military, warzone, ER doctor background, and he said he’s never seen anything like this. As of the writing this, they expect close to 300 image bearers to eventually be found in the debris. And in this deep, collective grief, we need the Church. We need you....

Grief and Lament in Texas: Weeping with HopeChristina Fox2025-07-11T19:04:12+00:00

Joy in the Mourning

KENDRA KAMMER|GUEST My mother was a treasure. She was fun-loving and unapologetically loud. She was God’s gift to me. Her delight in others, her embracing of her calling, and her faithful submission to God’s will taught me the character of God. God, in His goodness, places people in our lives who unlock His character for us. This is one of the unexpected graces of being human when our lives and legacy are temporary, fleeting, like “a mist that appears for a little time and then vanishes” (James 4:14). But some individuals, even for the little time they spend on Earth, are a reflecting mirror of aspects of God’s goodness to the rest of us. My mom was one of them. But I have to say “was” when I talk about my mom, because that’s how we talk about people who aren’t with us anymore. Three and a half years ago, my mom lost her battle with cancer, and now Mother’s Day is an exercise of joy in the mourning. “Weeping may tarry for the night, but joy comes with the morning.” Psalm 30:5 When my mom passed away I felt breathless with grief, but I also felt the joy of one grieving with hope. The pain of loss was real, but the hope of seeing her again— free from pain and regret—that hope bolstered me, even as the tears kept coming. During that season, God walked with me through the bittersweet duality of weeping and joy, loss and love, brokenness and comfort. My mom lived her life as an exercise in joy, so as the Holy Spirit works in me to remember her life on Mother’s Day, I shouldn’t be surprised to find that he is preparing the soil of my heart to grow the fruit of joy in the Lord, even in mourning. Joy in God’s Delight My mom enjoyed things enthusiastically. She never kept her delight to herself; it was always shared. What a gift when the delight she expressed was a delight in me! I wasn’t always worthy of it— I was a typical teenager with sullen moods and bad attitudes—but my mom delighted in me because it was in her nature to find joy. Our God is like that. Isaiah 62:4 says, “You shall be called My Delight Is in Her… for the Lord delights in you.” Even when we’re distant or difficult, God draws near. In Christ, we are His beloved children. He looks past our rebellious inclinations and delights in us, even on our worst day! Joy in God’s Calling My mom lived her life on mission as an ambassador for Christ, but she wasn’t concerned about her name or her fame. She saw the beauty of the Gospel and felt compassion for the world that didn’t know that peace. She took the opportunities she was given to shine God’s light into people’s hard places. Ephesians 2:10 says that we are God’s “workmanship, created in Christ Jesus for good works, which God prepared beforehand, that we should walk in them.” In an act of God’s great kindness, He lets us experience the joy of serving in His kingdom, based on the unique knots and threads of the personality He’s knitted into us (Psalm 119:13). I am thankful for the privilege of living out His calling among this world that needs to know Him....

Joy in the MourningChristina Fox2025-04-21T20:00:52+00:00

Grief in this Holiday Season: Gospel Comfort for Every Loss

ELIZABETH TURNAGE | CONTRIBUTOR Grief is as old as the Fall. Ever since Adam and Eve chose to disobey God, eating of the one tree denied them, loss has plagued the cosmos. This loss leads to grief. As the holidays arrive this year, grief will be fresh for many, raw for some. In the Middle East, Ukraine, Turkey, the Southeastern United States, and many other places throughout the world, disaster has struck, and the holiday season threatens to swallow its victims in a sea of grief. This year, your neighbor or friend, your co-worker or cousin, or perhaps you yourself, weep deeply and often as you mourn the loss of a loved one, a job, a relationship, a home, or a pet. How can we help? How can we grieve with hope if we are the ones who have suffered loss? By understanding grief and by looking to Christ, our grief may lead to the hope of restoration this holiday season. We can grieve all sorts of losses. As Christians we sometimes feel guilty for grieving something like a lost home or pet, a lost job, or even a lost relationship. Somehow, we got the idea that grief should be reserved for death. Somehow, we got the idea that when we grieve a loved one who died, we should be “happy” because the person is in heaven. That’s simply not the way grief works, not in life, and not in Scripture. As we look at Scripture, we see reasons to grieve all sorts of losses. Surely, we may grieve death, because our Lord himself grieved the death of his dear friend Lazarus, despite knowing he would soon raise him from the dead (see John 11:1-44). Because God created the heavens and the earth and everything in it, and because he gave humans the responsibility of working the land and making it fruitful, it is natural to grieve the loss of land and work. Job, who lost everything — family, livestock, and land — to enemies and natural disasters (see Job 1:13-19), grieved deeply but was not rebuked for his grief. The Israelites wept for their homeland when they were in exile: “By the waters of Babylon, there we sat down and wept, when we remembered Zion” (Psalm 137:1). Because the Lord cares for all creatures great and small, it is also appropriate to grieve the loss of a pet who brought us a taste of the Lord’s delight. All of creation has the potential to show us the goodness of the Lord; for this reason, we may grieve the loss of any good gift from God. Grief really is worse during the holiday season...

Grief in this Holiday Season: Gospel Comfort for Every LossChristina Fox2024-11-11T20:18:57+00:00

Grieving as a Couple: Infant and Pregnancy Loss Awareness

KIM BARNES | CONTRIBUTOR Twenty-two years ago, I was twenty-three weeks pregnant with our third child. During a routine check-up, my obstetrician discovered that our baby’s heart wasn’t beating. We were heartbroken. That evening, I was admitted to the hospital to induce labor, and by the next morning, I delivered our stillborn baby girl—Hannah. She was tiny, but fully formed. There were no visible problems—nothing to explain what had gone wrong. God had numbered her days. My husband and I held her in our arms, said our goodbyes, and felt the anguish of never getting to know her this side of eternity. The following summer, we were overjoyed to learn I was pregnant again. It felt like a miracle after the four years of infertility we experienced before our first child was born. But this pregnancy, our fourth, was marked by both joy and apprehension. We were deeply grateful but also carried the scars of our previous loss. One day, while twenty-six weeks along, I felt anxious. The baby’s movements seemed less frequent, but I assumed it was just my grief from losing Hannah making me overly cautious. I decided to visit the doctor, hoping for reassurance, but it wasn’t the news I hoped for. The next day, I delivered another stillborn baby girl. We named her Charity. The weight of grief was unbearable—we couldn’t believe it was happening again. In the United States, 1 out of every 4 pregnancies ends in miscarriage, and 1 in every 160 pregnancies ends in stillbirth. October is Infant and Pregnancy Loss Awareness Month, and it is also the month we lost our baby, Hannah. It’s a time for remembrance, reflection on God’s faithfulness, and considering what we learned through these tragic losses...

Grieving as a Couple: Infant and Pregnancy Loss AwarenessChristina Fox2024-09-30T14:00:44+00:00

A Backwards Birth Into Heaven

SUSAN TYNER | CONTRIBUTOR I watched my Daddy be born into Heaven today. We were all around him as he lay dying in his bed at home. I squeezed his hand on one side while Mama grasped the other, my sister balancing on the mattress at his head while my brother held his feet. With our spouses and his many grandchildren crowded around, we sat with him one more time in his bedroom. We were no strangers to this room—there for about fifty years we had yelled at Ole Miss football games on the TV, nursed coffee during early morning talks, climbed into the warm covers while he read his Bible in a close by chair, even played tic-tac-toe in lotion on his back. Decades of normal breathing and living. And so, it was a blessing that when he needed to die, we could be in that familiar-made-sacred space together. I never saw someone die before, and it’s amazing how the human body will struggle to stay alive. We held our breaths as we counted his. He would pause breathing and we would look at each other, is this it? only to see him gasp air again. This happened so many times that once we laughed because it got comical for such a heavy moment—or maybe we just needed to release a tension we were not used to holding for so long. The hospice staff told us he could hear us even though he couldn’t respond, and Daddy proved them right when he squeezed Mama’s hand, responding that he loved her. His clavicle strained just like my little boy’s did when he had croup. We felt his pulse slow, lagging only a little behind his breath. At some point we attempted to comfort him by reciting Psalm 23 as a group. I think we added thirty minutes to his life because we flubbed it so bad my mom had to take over like the school teacher she is. Again, we laughed. How terrible for Daddy to hear us collectively fail a basic test when he had invested his adult life teaching us the Bible. Here we had been telling him to go and not worry about us and he’s lying there thinking, WHAT? My kids can’t even remember The Lord is My Shepherd?? What kind of shape am I leaving them in? Then, although we knew he was leaving, it was weird when in one moment after midnight, he did not catch his breath. Suddenly, he was gone. And, we did not feel like laughing anymore but going to our corners of the house to be quiet and do whatever one does after watching your role model leave your world. What seemed like only moments later, the funeral home is on site, desecrating our sacred bedroom. As I fill out paperwork, the hospice nurse tells me that Daddy, who practiced medicine for the hospice company, actually had worked earlier that week for them. I shouldn’t have been surprised. He pushed and tackled cancer’s pain the way he played linebacker at Bentonia High School. Whether it was football, medicine, church, or a good Mississippi snow day, Will Thompson left it all on the field. Why would his death week be any different? I see them put Daddy’s body in a plastic bag. As a doctor, he saw death a lot and this scene would not shock him. I did not know at the time it was shocking me. I assumed my head knowledge that he was in a better place would inoculate me from shock—that the theology I had been taught would cushion the impact grief causes....

A Backwards Birth Into HeavenChristina Fox2024-05-31T15:52:57+00:00

The Lament of Jesus

LISA WALLOVER|GUEST Christians are Resurrection People. We truly are. Every Easter morn, pastors around the world declare, “He is risen!” And all God’s people say, “He is risen, indeed!” Truly, every Sunday is that celebration! We serve a risen Savior. The tomb is empty. Life is full. Death, where is your sting? Except. Except that life still stings, sometimes. Maybe more than sometimes. Our hearts can be heavy. We are weary from the lingering weight of sin—around us, and within. To lament is to express to God that sadness that sits in our souls. I wonder if we are sometimes hesitant to lament because it somehow seems “unfaithful” to admit that sorrow can feel bigger than we are. Perhaps it even feels bigger than God. Is it possible that it is in this sorrow where we might meet God most closely? That He is there, waiting, because He deeply understands? That in our grief over sin and its effect, we may actually reflect God’s design and God’s heart? That in the midst of our sorrow we are “conformed to the image of His Son”? Isaiah wrote a description of the coming Messiah that sounds more like defeat than deliverance: He was to be “a man of sorrows and acquainted with grief” (Is. 53:3). And yet, this is the way of the gospel. The path toward the joy and victory of the empty tomb goes through the grief of Gethsemane and pain of Golgotha. It travels through our own grief and pain as well. Our God understands sadness. The sorrow that Jesus felt, He felt perfectly. Completely. How grateful we can be that the Gospel writers share His lament. Jesus wept at the tomb of His friend, Lazarus...

The Lament of JesusChristina Fox2023-08-15T13:41:29+00:00