grief

The Gift of Crisis

LYNNE RIENSTRA | GUEST I was at our denomination’s General Assembly when I received the call from my radiologist: “Mrs. Rienstra, your tests reveal that you have breast cancer.” Fast forward to six weeks later. As my husband was driving me home from the surgery that removed my cancer, a car ran a stop sign and slammed into us, right in front of where I was sitting. Within minutes I found myself in an ambulance on my way to yet another hospital. Crisis. It’s the gift none of us wants. Because when crisis comes, it broadsides us. It reminds us that in spite of our best efforts, we are ultimately out of control. Crisis exposes us as those who are in deep need and unable to help ourselves. It causes us to cry out to God. But what if at that very point, crisis turned out to be a gift? Crisis Reveals More of God to Us When crisis hit the family of Mary and Martha of Bethany (John 11:1-44), they never dreamed that embedded in the sickness of their brother Lazarus was the extraordinary opportunity to experience Jesus in a whole new way. The sisters knew two things: Jesus loved them and their brother (vv. 3; 5), and Jesus had the power to heal. So, when their brother Lazarus fell ill, they did what any of us would have done: they asked Jesus for help. Having sent for Jesus, the sisters expected to see Him arrive quickly and save the day. Only He didn’t. One day passed, and Lazarus worsened. Another day passed, and their worst fears were realized. Lazarus died. Lazarus was buried. And still no sign of Jesus…. When Jesus finally did come, Martha ran out to meet Him, saying, “Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died” (v. 21). With Lazarus’s body decaying in a nearby tomb, Jesus made the stunning revelation that He is “resurrection and the life” (v. 25). And in faith-filled response, Martha proclaimed, “Yes, Lord; I believe that you are the Christ, the Son of God…” (v. 27). Here’s my question: Would this essential truth have been revealed to Martha apart from the wrenching loss of her brother? Let’s also consider her sister, Mary, still back at the house, suffering in deep grief. This is the Mary whom Jesus had invited to sit at His feet. She had chosen the better part. Mary knew Jesus loved her and her brother. But the crisis of Lazarus’s death may have caused her to wonder (as we often do in our own crises): “Why didn’t Jesus come? I thought I knew Him. I must have lost His love.”...

The Gift of CrisisChristina Fox2024-10-02T15:02:46+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

When the Church Today Isn’t the Church You Remember

MEGAN HILL | GUEST The old men of Ezra’s day may have had aging bodies, but their minds were sharp and their hearts still sought the Lord. They could remember Solomon’s temple (1 Kings 6:1–8:11) like they had walked through it yesterday. Walls lined with cedar, floors covered in cypress, everything overlayed in gold. Carvings of cherubim and gourds and lions and palm trees and flowers. And, most precious of all, the ark of the Lord that had gone with God’s people since their exodus from Egypt. Everyone who remembered it agreed it was a magnificent temple, filled with the Lord’s presence. But that temple was gone—destroyed by the Babylonians decades ago—and in its place was the bare foundation of a new temple. The old men could already tell this temple wouldn’t compare with the one they remembered from childhood. God’s people no longer had Solomon’s wealth or his workforce. They labored under threats from their enemies. And, worst of all, they no longer had the ark. As the old men looked at the fresh foundation, they could only cry: “But many of the priests and Levites and heads of fathers’ houses, old men who had seen the first house, wept with a loud voice when they saw the foundations of this house being laid.” (Ezra 3:12) When the church you have isn’t the same as the church you remember, it hurts...

When the Church Today Isn’t the Church You RememberChristina Fox2024-05-01T15:47:12+00:00

Living and Dying in Hope of Heaven: Preparing for Glory

ELIZABETH TURNAGE|CONTRIBUTOR When I tell people I’ve written a book about preparing for glory, about living and dying in the hope of heaven, I get mixed reactions. Some people wonder why we would need to “prepare” for glory. Others wonder, frankly, if I’m being morbid. Good questions. I’ll just say that I don’t think I’m morbid. If anything, I’m realistic, given that, besides Enoch and Elijah, every person who has ever lived has also died. I’m also optimistic, someone who believes that despite the harsh reality of death, something far far better awaits those who trust in Jesus. Finally, I’m practical, because I’ve seen that a kind, thoughtful, and clear preparation for incapacity and death is one of the most profound gifts we can leave our grieving loved ones. To decide if we really need to prepare for glory, let’s begin by considering what we mean by glory in this context. Glory is a wide and weighty word. It is used throughout Scripture to refer to the glory of the triune God. But throughout Christian history, it has been used as a shorthand for “eternal glory.” I propose this summary of eternal glory: Eternal glory is a place and an age and a state of glory where glory is given to the glorious Father, Son, and Holy Spirit by glorified saints and where the glory of the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit is enjoyed by glorified saints for all eternity. The apostle Peter sheds more light on eternal glory: “And after you have suffered a little while, the God of all grace, who has called you to his eternal glory in Christ, will himself restore, confirm, strengthen, and establish you” (1 Peter 5:10). According to Peter, eternal glory is that to which we have been called, by “the God of all grace,” “in Christ.” Eternal glory is the future glory “to be revealed in us” after “the sufferings of this present time” (Rom. 8:18). Eternal glory is that for which we and all of creation “groan inwardly” as we “wait eagerly” (Rom. 8:23). Eternal glory is the glory for which the sufferings of this world prepare us. Eternal glory is so weighty that it will one day prove our sufferings to have been as light as a feather (2 Cor. 4:17–18)...

Living and Dying in Hope of Heaven: Preparing for GloryChristina Fox2024-01-28T01:30:46+00:00

We Always Have A Father to Celebrate on Father’s Day

SHEA PATRICK|CONTRIBUTOR As I work on this blog post, Mother’s Day just past. I saw many things on social media celebrating mothers, but also saw the mixed feelings the holiday brings about. I imagine many people have a similar feeling about Father’s Day. A group of my friends and I no longer have fathers here on earth and we often discuss how difficult the day is for us. What do we do with these mixed feelings? Get angry at those who are celebrating? Blast our frustration with God’s plan for us on social media? In contrast, the death of my father is one of those milestone moments in my walk with God— an Ebeneezer reminder of how God cared for me when my dad died. A Hard Grief I still remember exactly where I was and what I was doing when the phone call came. My dad was dead at sixty. He had just retired eight months before and moved into his dream house with my mom. I just could not believe that it was true. I was in shock. I think the entire first year I lived in disbelief. All the firsts came and went – Father’s Day and his birthday. I also had a one-year-old who turned two six months later—another first where I felt the absence of my dad profoundly. The second year was the hardest for me by far. I think it took the first year for me to really understand the reality of my loss, for my dad’s death to sink in. I often woke in the middle of the night from terrible dreams, only to realize the loss of my dad wasn’t a nightmare; it was all too real. I spent those nights crying out to the Lord in desperate prayer. Every time I was at my parents’ house, I expected him to come around the corner. It was painfully hard to adjust to life without him here. But it was during this period that I really began to understand God as my Father as he showed his fatherly care for me...

We Always Have A Father to Celebrate on Father’s DayChristina Fox2023-08-15T13:22:39+00:00

How to Cope with Anticipatory Grief as a Caregiver

ELIZABETH TURNAGE|CONTRIBUTOR As Marissa Bondurant mentioned in our last article in this series, caregiving, while a burden, is also a calling. Today I want to explore one of the common challenges of this calling: anticipatory grief. Anticipatory Grief Three years ago, Lara’s father was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s disease. As his primary caregiver, Lara is struggling. She finds herself crying frequently, losing her temper daily, and feeling anxious constantly. Like many caregivers of people with progressive or terminal disease, Lara is experiencing anticipatory grief. According to bereavement counselor Marty Tousley, “Grief occurs in anticipation of and following a loss. Extended illness, disability, severe accidental injury, a terminal diagnosis, or the aging and decline of an elderly family member can produce anticipatory grief.”[i] Symptoms of anticipatory grief may include anger, anxiety, depression, denial, irritability, and difficulty concentrating. The caregiver may also experience a sense of hope as she imagines the coming relief from her caregiving burden. Following that sense of hope, she may feel guilt. While many psychologists call this grief “anticipatory,” others note that “anticipatory” may not be the most accurate term, because the caregiver is experiencing grief over current loss—the loss of the ability to enjoy life with her loved one as she did in the past, the losses her loved one now experiences due to limitations, and the loss of the caregiver’s “normal” life. The first thing caregivers need to know is that both anticipatory grief about the future and present grief about the loss of past joys is to be expected. In addition, the caregiver can take comfort from and learn from Jesus as she navigates anticipatory grief...

How to Cope with Anticipatory Grief as a CaregiverChristina Fox2023-08-15T13:46:46+00:00

Your Unwanted Journey: Facing Your Husband’s Pornography Struggle

“God, I come to you very weak and broken. Grieved over the sin of my husband that I just discovered. Shocked—feeling betrayed—angry—distrustful—sad at sin’s corrupting power—very aware of my own desperate need for grace as I must confront him.” I wrote these words in a journal entry when I discovered evidence on my computer’s history that my husband had been visiting pornographic sites. Although I knew of his struggle prior to our marriage, I naively assumed that he was done battling pornography and that our marital bliss would provide the antidote he needed against temptation. My dreams of a happy, secure marriage in which I felt compellingly beautiful to my husband were instantly shattered that afternoon—barely more than a year into our marriage. It was made worse by the fact that just the day before I had asked him if he had been struggling lately with pornography, and he said, 'No.'” I remember getting the call from this woman. She was devastated, confused, and angry. Pornography usage is an unfaithful behavior that breaks the sacred promise: I am devoted and faithful to you alone. We might even call it treason of the marriage covenant, though some may think this too dramatic or stern. But aren’t husbands called to faithful oneness to their wife, to lay down their lives for her? She, of course, is called to the same, but why is it that church leaders can minimize the traumatic impact of porn, as well as the grave sin of sexual infidelity—which porn viewing is?...

Your Unwanted Journey: Facing Your Husband’s Pornography StruggleChristina Fox2023-03-24T17:50:49+00:00

How Job Teaches Us to Grieve With Hope

MARISSA BONDURANT|GUEST “Then Job arose and tore his robe and shaved his head and fell on the ground and worshiped. And he said, ‘Naked I came from my mother’s womb, and naked shall I return. The Lord gave, and the Lord has taken away; blessed be the name of the Lord” (Job 1:20-21). In February of 2019 my husband taped a sign on our refrigerator that said, “It’s been 0 days since an incident in this home.” He was trying to bring some levity to a horrible week for our family. One thing after another occurred and we were exhausted from dealing with all the emergencies. I remember feeling on edge with the thought of, “What’s next?” On a much bigger scale, Job understood what it was like to receive one tragic report after another. In Job 1:13 a messenger arrives and tells Job about the Sabeans who came, taking all his oxen and donkeys and destroying his servants. While he was still talking, another messenger entered and told Job that fire consumed all his sheep. While he was still talking, a third messenger inform him that his camels were stolen and more servants killed. And while that messenger was still talking, a fourth comes in and tells Job that all his children perished in a horrible house collapse. His children, his livelihood, his finances… all gone in a single day. How did Job react? And how can his response encourage us in our sufferings today?...

How Job Teaches Us to Grieve With HopeChristina Fox2023-03-24T17:51:13+00:00

A Living Grief

HEATHER MOLENDYK|CONTRIBUTOR Hot water pounds my shoulders. I reach to turn the temperature hotter, desperate for the heat to stop the shivering in my bones. Although I am completely alone, my arms hug my naked chest in a protective gesture. They attempt to hold the broken pieces of my heart together. They utterly fail. The crumpling starts with my face before traveling down my vulnerable form. Dry sobs push up through my throat, contorting my mouth in a silent scream. There I stand completely alone, body raging against the guttural pain of grief, and unable to catch my breath before the next wave of tears push past my clenched eyes. To say that losing a loved one is hard is like saying an erupting volcano causes landscaping inconveniences. The exit of one you love always leaves a hole. Others may make substitutions. Others may offer what they can. But just like the uniqueness of individual snowflakes, each person in our lives contributes a special touch that only their fingerprints can make. We all know that life – no matter how vibrant and impactful – is always temporary. Each person is destined for eternity somewhere else. No one is guaranteed tomorrow. No one can live forever. That’s what each carved stone whispers to us from the cemetery. To dust we all return. No one is exempt...

A Living GriefChristina Fox2023-03-24T17:51:56+00:00