How do we hold grief and loss amid a tragedy? The rage of a river, flash floods in Texas over the Fourth of July, unleashes a rage of questions, groans, and grief, doesn’t it?
I remember a discussion once about reading the Bible and the culture & its news as a basic approach to our conversational life with God. By so doing, we stay grounded in the truth of who God is and what He desires while also bringing the reality of the world’s woes of the world into the space of prayer. That wisdom grounds me in the sadness and dismay of families swept away by ravaging rains and young girls lost to the roar of a river.
When Pain and Grief Become Personal
I know the Guadalupe River. When my children were young, we lived in Austin, within an easy drive of it. Texas Hill Country, part of a former life chocked full of memories, feels like a bit of home. My then-husband’s extended family lived in the New Braunfels area. Laity Lodge, an inviting retreat center on the Frio River, became a place where our church gathered at its haven of joy. I remember forays to see bluebonnets, the Texas state flower. Their mesmerizing beauty burst into bloom among rolling hills. I walked those Texas limestone-lined rivers, splashing in their cool refreshment. Stargazing, cloud-watching, and enjoying fields of wildflowers stand out as special moments of those Texas years.
So, when my cousin reached out asking me to pray, pray, pray, I could pray from a felt place of memory. Her family and friends have attended Camp Mystic across generations. None were there over the 4th of July as the river raged, changing the landscape of camps, towns, and hearts.
Responding to Tragedy with Lament and Faith
Pain rouses us, doesn’t it?
Whether or not we have a personal connection with such a devastating disaster, because we are human, we too grieve. Empathy emerges. We were once children ourselves. We know children, our own, our grandchildren, nieces, nephews, or our next-door neighbors’ youngsters. We can imagine the laughter of children at camp on a summer’s day turning to utter screams of terror amid waters rising 20 feet in the fright of the darkness of night.
To grieve is sacred. To grieve is holy. To grieve is to be human. It is part of our experience on this earth. It connects us to one another. It catches our breath. Grief pulses through our bodies. It stretches our character and our relationship with God.
To grieve is to experience a flood of sensations like fatigue, confusion, dismay, numbness, and overwhelm. In grief, my appetite vanishes. Time loses its meaning. Debilitating thoughts interrupt energy. Sleep is elusive. Grief affects every aspect of the days that roll out endlessly.
How do we hold sorrow as we encounter the loss of life from the flash flooding Guadalupe River?
Engulfed by the tragedy, we weep, mourn, and lament. Tears pour. Sorrow rules. Anger, disbelief, and bewilderment pummel us. We question. Why? Why? Why? How could this have happened? We pray for help, for relief, for understanding. We lean in. We scream out.
We turn to Jesus. He wants us to come to Him with all that burdens us. (Matthew 11:28-30) He promises comfort for those who mourn. (Matthew 5:4) We are those who mourn, aren’t we? We break down in tears with the One who also wept. (John 11:35) Distraught, we join Job who tore his robe and shaved his head. We proclaim our dismay. (Psalm 42-43) It is too much to comprehend. God may feel silent or distant yet God comes alongside and holds us close. Pain doesn’t vanish, but as it is named, it is somehow held in His Presence.
Holding Onto Hope in the Midst of Grief
At the same time, we go on a search for hope. How are we to hold onto hope? Survivors were rescued while others succumbed to the frothing waters. The stages of grief—denial, anger, bargaining, depression, acceptance—become part of our days, undulating from one moment to the next in a convoluted manner.
Being bearers of God’s image, we reach out to others in pain, offering measures of comfort and hope. (2 Corinthians 1:4) Comforted by Father, Son, and Holy Spirit, we share Him as our refuge. We linger beside one another. We offer compassion. We console. We listen. We let raw, honest emotions be part of the moment. We wrestle. We shake our heads in disbelief. We don’t deny the despair, yet we stand firm in God’s presence. We offer rays of light and hope in the middle of darkness and despair.
Again, questions erupt. What is there to hope in, amid such brokenheartedness? The book at the end of Scripture comes to mind. Revelation 21:4 says that one day, “He [God] will wipe every tear from their eyes. There will be no more death or mourning or crying or pain, for the old order of things has passed away.” In the new heaven and new earth, where all things are made new, we can be confident that the worst endured on earth will not be the end of the story. Good is in store…down the way.
But what do we do until then? We wrestle. We wonder. We cry out. We call to mind what is true. We express our need to God who comforts us (2 Cor. 1:3-4). We walk through the valley with the Good Shepherd. (Psalm 23) We grieve but not without hope (1 Thess. 4:13-18). We remember that there is nowhere God is not present. (Psalm 139)
Grief lasts a long time. It doesn’t expire. Yet it changes shape and form. Jesus, who never changes, stays ever present. (Hebrews 13:8) God lifts us up (Psalm 40:1-3) as we pour out our hearts to Him who is our refuge. (Psalm 62:8) Bereft, overwhelmed, when we simply can’t pray, Jesus prays for us, as does Holy Spirit. (John 17; Romans 8)
We have a kind and good heavenly Father. Our Abba adores us. So, we let Him pick us up. We rest our weary head upon His chest. We hear His steady heartbeat. We feel His life-giving breath across our faces. His tears mingle with ours. We are so very deeply loved. We hold onto hope as we are held onto by God.
What Helps When Loss Hits Home
I wonder what perilous events have happened in your life. When the storms come, as they always do, what’s helped you hold on? What’s set you seeking or grappling with God? God’s not afraid of our wrestlings, laments, and grapplings. He wants to hear our lament and assure us He loves us in it all.
I’ve been rattled and refined in the thick of loss and grief from disasters: the Big Thompson Flood, the Waldo Canyon Fire, and Hurricane Helene. Disasters of other sorts, too, have imperiled: miscarriage, divorce, financial loss, job loss, joint replacements, surgeries, and diagnoses given to friends and family. I have railed against God and also rallied by being closely held through the unimaginable. What about you? What does your body, mind, and heart need today in light of the tossing and turning caused by a disaster?
Perhaps a long walk or a time to lounge in the sunshine with beauty surrounding you may be of comfort. Is a nap inviting you to rest? Would a simple meal and an extra glass of water be a kindness you could give yourself? What friend, spiritual director, pastor, or counselor could accompany you in your grief journey?
Sometimes the lyrics of a song bring us closer to God. Listen to Ellie Holcomb’s “Red Sea Road” or Hillsong’s “Oceans (Where Feet May Fail).” Take time with “He Will Hold Me Fast” created by Selah, Keith & Kristyn Getty or the Getty’s “In Christ Alone.” Discover Jill Phillips “Bright Sadness” or “I Am.” What other hymns or songs hold you when chaos swirls?
Today, do you wish someone would pray with you or for you? May I come alongside? Send a reply by this link here on my website. I’m glad to pray with you and for you.
May the Lord’s lovingkindness hold us in grief and loss, these earthly sorrows. Hold on, for the hope of heaven’s joyful haven will hold us until that day when all shall be restored to the fullness of good and we shall be those who weep and mourn no more.
