“Jesus wept.”

The Gospel of John’s shortest verse, 11:35, has come to mind a lot this fall. Our community has experienced a lot of loss and subsequent grief. The aforementioned verse comes in the midst of one of Jesus’ most profound experiences in his time on earth. As God, Jesus knew that Lazarus’ death would be reversed, but as a human, He also experienced the deep, almost suffocating grief around him from those who did not know the miracle that was about to happen. 

I’ve officiated two funerals this fall. Both times I found myself weeping alongside the families. I don’t think we’re ever prepared for the depth of grief from the loss of a loved one. C.S. Lewis’ journal from after he lost his wife, published as “A Grief Observed,” records his internal struggles of loss, faith and grief. One of Lewis’ thoughts that stood out to me was, “the death of a beloved is an amputation.” 

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It can definitely feel like a part of us is forever missing when we lose a loved one… and we will never be the same.

As we come alongside friends who have suffered loss, words that are not platitudes are hard to find. Lewis also commiserated with people in the situation where they did not know how to approach him in the street after the funeral. “I see people, as they approach me, trying to make up their minds whether they’ll ‘say something about it’ or not. I hate if they do, and if they don’t.”

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We can feel helpless when we come alongside someone in grief, or even in grieving ourselves.  I have to keep reminding myself of Jesus’ promise that, “blessed are those who mourn, for they shall be comforted” (Matthew 5:4). From my experience, maybe the best way to comfort is simply being present. It can be hard to sit with someone and not have the words. Yet, the right words or even the right actions might not ever come. Just like Lewis’ thought of “I hate it if they do, and if they don’t.” 

When I lost my father, I had to learn to sit in my grief. Initially I would try to push it away or ignore it. Eventually, I found grief strangely comforting. It was a reminder of how much I loved my dad and how much I missed him. In that grief I had fond memories and grateful recollections. The depth of that emotion is real and raw.

It slows me. It makes me feel. 

Finally, empathy is a rare gift to possess, but I have found that some of my most healing moments have been sitting down with someone who also lost their dad. They understood and knew.

If you are buried with grief or going through a situation that feels suffocating, maybe a grief support group or some literature from someone who has gone through it to (including the Bible, which has a lot of accounts of loss) can give you some air. 

There certainly is not one right answer. We all grieve differently. But as you go through it, remember, Jesus is weeping right beside you, he knows what loss is – and He promises comfort. 

David Pressgrove is the area director for Bear River Young Life in Craig.