Lessons from Grieving

I came across a book a few days ago by C.S. Lewis that I had never heard of before. The book is called A Grief Observed and from what I understand was written (probably more for himself than anything) after the death of his wife. As I browsed some of the quotes from the book, I knew that I wanted to get my hands on this book in the very near future. Many of the things that he said about grief really resonated with me so deeply, and he was able to put to words many of the things that I have thought and felt the last 9 months (maybe even the last two very challenging years for our family). While we have not personally experienced death in our immediate family, and I thank God that we have not, we have had trusted counsel liken our experience and the extent of what we have lost to "a death." In saying that, I in no way want to make light of precious friends (even friends that read this blog) that have experienced tragic death and loss in their families. I don't pretend to understand that kind of pain, and I have prayed often that I have been the kind of friend that has only spoken words that were helpful and prayed that God would shut my mouth before I said something that wasn't. I have not forgotten their loss or their pain, and though I am sure I will never have the right words to say, my heart continues to break for them when they come to mind.

 I have come to better understand in this last year especially that grieving is a process and that we do a disservice to others that are grieving when we try to rush them through that process or assume they should already have moved on and be "over it." I have also come to understand that pain and grief come through many different kinds of loss, and it has caused me to evaluate the way I had viewed other people's suffering in the past and maybe even tried to qualify it as either a situation for which I should have compassion or a situation that they "brought upon themselves." It makes me sick to see the reflection of a pharisee in my own heart in my judgement of other's situations and arrogance in thinking that I in some way had it all figured out or that "that would never be me." This past year and especially in the past few months, I have come to a place of peace and forgiveness within my own heart about the disappointments that occurred in my own family of origin. I have finally accepted that I cannot rewrite the past, and while I can't necessarily forget every hurt I can still come to a place of compassion for someone else's grief or loneliness regardless of the choices they made that have led to their present. It's funny how God can use a morning of scanning the titles of books on a shelf during a visit "home" to bring me to my knees and open my eyes to the fact that while there might have been failures along the way, there were good intentions, I believe, too. I know I am being vague, but what God has done in my heart is huge. He answered many years of the same prayer that I prayed differently than I expected -- He started with me.

This year I have come face to face with the sting of judgement that non-Christians must often feel from Christians - in how we know the "right" and godly things to say but how we act contrary to those words. I now know what it means first-hand when people say "Christians are the only one's that shoot their own wounded." I'm not saying that the Church as a whole has let me down, but I do understand personally how we can preach "nothing can separate us from the love of Christ Jesus" and live a life that says differently before those that do not know Him and assume that they are really, truly not good enough to be received by Him. Do we as Christians justify sharing with others how we can pray for a particular family or situation as an excuse to really just gossip about them? Do we enjoy knowing the gory details of others shortcoming or failures to make us feel better about ourselves, even superior? I am not asking these questions with condemnation but with painful familiarity because I know I have been that person more than I would care to admit in my life. I just pray that these lessons I have learned in the pit, so to speak, would not bring about a heart of bitterness, but a desire to truly treat those that are lost as Jesus would and without judgement.

I'm sure I could compile a lengthy list of advice to help Christians encourage those that are in the midst of grieving (i.e. "I'm so sorry" really does go a long way, sometimes it's appropriate and brings great comfort just to listen, or that having emotions and struggling with grief doesn't make you less of a Christian), but I will just post some quotes on grieving from C.S. Lewis who was definitely far wiser and more eloquent than I am. I hope that this isn't a post that I later regret writing, but I am trying my best to live out a real, authentic faith before others, before my family, even before my little boy - the good, the bad, and the ugly. I want James to know that this life will bring heartbreak and disappointment at times, but Jesus gives us the power to overcome and press on when our own flesh is so weak and weary. Even when we feel alone, He is there. When we feel like no one in the world really cares or understands, He does. When the deck feels stacked against us and there seems to be no hope in sight, "His compassions never fail. They are new every morning; great is your faithfulness" (Lamentations 3:22-23). Here are some thoughts on grief from C.S. Lewis:

“No one ever told me that grief felt so like fear.” 
― C.S. Lewis, A Grief Observed

“I once read the sentence 'I lay awake all night with a toothache, thinking about the toothache an about lying awake.' That's true to life. Part of every misery is, so to speak, the misery's shadow or reflection: the fact that you don't merely suffer but have to keep on thinking about the fact that you suffer. I not only live each endless day in grief, but live each day thinking about living each day in grief.” 
― C.S. Lewis, A Grief Observed


“It doesn't really matter whether you grip the arms of the dentist's chair or let your hands lie in your lap. The drill drills on.”
― C.S. Lewis, A Grief Observed


“We were promised sufferings. They were part of the program. We were even told, 'Blessed are they that mourn,' and I accept it. I've got nothing that I hadn't bargained for. Of course it is different when the thing happens to oneself, not to others, and in reality, not imagination.”
― C.S. Lewis, A Grief Observed


“God has not been trying an experiment on my faith or love in order to find out their quality. He knew it already. It was I who didn't. In this trial He makes us occupy the dock, the witness box, and the bench all at once. He always knew that my temple was a house of cards. His only way of making me realize the fact was to knock it down.”
― C.S. Lewis, A Grief Observed


“I thought I could describe a state; make a map of sorrow. Sorrow, hoever, turns out to be not a state but a process.”
― C.S. Lewis, A Grief Observed


“Aren't all these notes the senseless writings of a man who won't accept the fact that there is nothing we can do with suffering except to suffer it?”
― C.S. Lewis, A Grief Observed


“Knock and it shall be opened.' But does knocking mean hammering and kicking the door like a maniac?”
― C.S. Lewis, A Grief Observed


“You never know how much you really believe anything until its truth of falsehood becomes a matter of life and death to you. It is easy to say you believe a rope to be strong and sound as long as you are merely using it to cord a box. But suppose you had to hang by that rope over a precipice. Wouldn't you then first discover how much you really trusted it?”
― C.S. Lewis, A Grief Observed






Praying that I could bring God an ounce of glory in the mist of grieving. Praying that I can be a blessing to others in the mist of suffering too.