Week 2: The Honest Ache (7 days)

Open.

Somebody at church told you to be strong.

Maybe they meant well. They said it with a pat on the arm: "God's got this. Don't let it get you down." Or worse: "Everything happens for a reason."

And you nodded, and smiled, and went home and cried in the closet so the kids wouldn't hear.

Because you're starting to wonder if crying means you don't trust God enough. If grieving means your faith is weak. If a real Christian would already be fine.

Let's settle that today, once and for all. With the shortest verse in the Bible.

Text.

"Jesus wept." — John 11:35

Two words. And they hold a whole sermon.

Here's the setting. Jesus' friend Lazarus has died. Lazarus's sisters, Mary and Martha, are devastated. By the time Jesus arrives, Lazarus has been in the tomb four days.

Now, here's what's remarkable. Jesus knew what He was about to do. In a few minutes, He would call Lazarus out of that grave alive. He knew the ending. He knew the sorrow was temporary.

And He wept anyway.

He saw Mary crying, and the Bible says He was "deeply moved in spirit and troubled" (John 11:33). He stood at the grave of His friend, surrounded by people He loved who were hurting, and tears ran down the face of God.

If Jesus, who knew the happy ending, still wept, then you are allowed to weep in the middle of yours.

Grief is not a lack of faith. Grief is what love does when it loses something.

You loved this person. You built a life together. You had a future planned. And all of that is gone, or changed beyond recognition. Of course you grieve. You would be less than human if you didn't.

Paul writes that we "will not grieve like the rest, who are without hope" (1 Thessalonians 4:13). Read that carefully. He doesn't say we don't grieve. He says we grieve with hope. There's a difference between tears with no bottom and tears with God underneath them.

Heart.

What are you grieving?

It's not only the person. It's often a whole list. The future you'd planned. The family Christmas card. The retirement trips. Your role as a husband or wife. The friend-couples who don't call anymore. The house. The version of yourself you were in that marriage.

Name them. Every loss deserves to be grieved.

Practice.

Write a "grief list." Everything you've lost, or are afraid of losing. Big and small.

Then pray over the list, one item at a time. You don't need eloquent words. "Lord, I'm grieving the trips we were going to take." Let yourself feel each one.

And if someone tells you to "be strong" this week, you can smile and know the truth: Jesus wept. So can you.

Prayer.

Lord Jesus, You wept at Your friend's grave even though You knew the ending.

Thank You for giving me permission to cry.

Here's my list, Lord. All of it. I'm grieving a lot of things. Hold each one. And let me grieve with hope, because You're underneath it all. Amen.