Cynthia Mathai
Disappointment, hurt, and confusion weren’t new for me. But in this season of grief, I had to face the fact that two people I had trusted and submitted to as authority figures had been living deceptively for years.
This reality created a cavern of pain so deep that at times I felt it might swallow me whole. In a new way, I found myself wondering how I would walk well through grief, acknowledging the hurt and pain, not stuffing my feelings or painting a thick coat of pretense with well-worn “Christianese” phrases.
Almost eighteen months ago, I experienced grief in this way, and it changed me. Now I’m quieter. I’m weaker in some ways and stronger in others. I’m more focused. I long for Christ’s return more acutely and feel more sober about the wiles of the enemy and the weakness of my human will.
I didn’t get everything right, but I did learn some lessons about navigating grief that might serve you in your journey.
SOME WAYS TO NAVIGATE GRIEF
Running. For several months, I went running after work on nearby mountain trails. Each stride was fueled by confusion, pain, deep anger, fear, and tiny slivers of hope that at last deception was uncovered and there was an opportunity for truth and redemption.
Reading. I kept my bible as close to my bed as possible so that as my eyes slowly opened to greet the day and grief sat heavy on my chest each morning, I could reach for God’s Word and ask him to speak to me. Over the course of my walk with Jesus, whenever I have felt the ache of relational brokenness, God has often reminded me that he alone remains unchanging and faithful. So, I reached often for the Psalms and for quite some time read them while feeling numb or crying.
“I kept my bible as close to my bed as possible so that as my eyes slowly opened to greet the day and grief sat heavy on my chest each morning, I could reach for God’s Word and ask him to speak to me.
Slowing. I asked God for wisdom, as James says believers are to do when facing trials on how to navigate the pain (Jas. 1: 5–8). I heard the Spirit say words I despised at first: “Slow down.” I knew instinctively what God meant by those words. My pace in life has always been a point of struggle for me. Fueled by both good desires and a false sense of identity, I have always done “extra.” It became clear to me that this would be a season of scaling back. I started setting aside blocks of times during my week to write, to do nothing, to sit in the proverbial ashes and pray, instead of filling my days and nights with activities to distract myself from the discomfort of betrayal. I hated doing this at first. But eighteen months later—still practicing some of those margin-setting activities—I see God’s profound goodness and infinite wisdom in slowing down (Nah. 1:7; Job 12:13).
Questioning. I spent a lot of time receiving counsel from wise friends, pastors, mentors, and my mom. I had questions like, How do you forgive without immediately trusting? How do you process without gossiping? How do you grasp the truth of God’s sovereignty and human will in the paradoxical way in which it presents in Scripture and is worked out in the world? How do you face the reality that you have been bamboozled and yet cannot punish every other person in your life for the sins of others? I brought all of these questions to those I’ve chosen to trust and who have invested in over the years. Some questions didn’t have clear-cut answers. Some were painful to swallow at the moment and required ongoing conversations.
Writing. I wrote and wrote and wrote some more. The pen is often the extension of my heart. When I don’t quite know how to articulate my feelings, I reach for a pen, and as pen touches paper, it’s as though the strings of my heart are loosened, and with great ferocity, my feelings come bursting forth. Writing gave me release.
Counseling. I went to counseling, or rather, I went back to counseling. Deception by a pastor and a friend can bring up a lot from past pain and create new fears about future relationships. I knew that on my own I didn’t have what it took to make heads or tails of the present circumstances. I needed help to face things head-on and to dig deeper into truth for the road ahead, all while rambling my way through the messiness of my thoughts and feelings.
THE BLESSINGS OF GRIEF
People say that they wouldn’t trade the pain for the gain of walking through tragedy or loss and coming out on the other side. I would say the same.
The moniker for my Savior, the “man of sorrows” (Isa. 53:3), has over time become one of the most comforting realities of being one of his disciples. The “man of sorrows” sits with me in the depth of my pain; the place where sobs communicate more clearly than words. He counsels me in the midst of grief of all forms, fills me with courage to keep taking one small step after another; he asks me to forgive those who have trespassed against me, and he empowers me to obey his commands because he has forgiven my trespasses against him (Matt. 6:12; 1 Jn. 5:2–3).
“I would not trade the assurance I have that I can ask God to help me with minuscule things and he cares, and he helps.
I would not trade how much better I know Jesus. I would not trade the friendships I gained because of weeping publicly and needing to be comforted by those in my church community. Throughout the process of reckoning with hard truths as a congregation, I continued to grapple what the apostle Paul meant when he stated that God will not be mocked, for we reap what we sow (Gal. 6:7–8).
I would not trade the times I found myself weeping at how much joy I had knowing God was caring for me in my grief. I would not trade the slowing down of my life in ways I could only have dreamt of before, and in so doing, learn that my value is not in the sum of my productivity. I would not trade the assurance I have that I can ask God to help me with minuscule things and he cares, and he helps.
THE WAY FORWARD
I still have nights when the losses feel acute. I weep at what has been lost. I weep at seeing people wrestle with trust as a result of the failure of those in spiritual authority. I get angry that anyone must suffer the consequences of another’s selfishness. Each of us is capable of great evil and only by God’s great mercy do we love and seek forgiveness when we have fallen short.
In all this grieving, the progress made along the way, and the new way of being, it has become clear that whether we verbalize it or not, all of us are crying out for salvation. We are all breathless for new patterns of thinking, of relating, of being; breathless for a new world order and a permanently good authority.
My way through the spikes of sorrow—which still arise—is knowing the living hope of Jesus. Where people have failed and will continue to fail, Jesus proves to be a constant. He is present with his people now as he will be for all eternity, and his character can be fully trusted. One day, in a world made new, with God’s kingdom fully consummated, there will be no more grief to navigate (Rev. 21:4).
Cynthia Mathai (M.A., Ministry & Leadership) is a disciple of Jesus who lives in Portland, Oregon. She is a Higher Educational professional who also teaches God’s Word at women’s retreats/ conferences and enjoys writing. She has served on staff with Verity Fellowship (now The Gospel Coalition’s Women’s Training Network). She worships with the saints at Trinity Church of Portland. Follow Cynthia on Twitter.
Posted at: https://gcdiscipleship.com/article-feed/2020/3/4/finding-your-way-through-grief