Jesus of my grief

I am a mother without a mother.

That’s something I’ve known since we found out about our baby in October, but it’s a thought that creeps in more and more frequently now that my hospital bag is packed and the car seat has been installed for over a month.

I fully expected to feel the cold fog of grief on Mother’s Day. I knew smiling on birthdays and important milestones would perhaps feel forced this year. However, nothing could have prepared me for the crisis of faith on a normal Tuesday. No one could have told me how tragic and seemingly random it would all feel. No one told me how heavy and truly cruel it could feel to carry grief. 

It manifests as stifled cries and exhaustion. Grief can be hidden to the eye with a quick smile, but it’s a sandbag you can never quite set down.

And yet, the scriptures are full of these weird examples of the universe’s inventor kneeling in the dust with those who are weighed down in grief. Psalm 56:8, for example: 

“You keep track of all my sorrows. You have collected all my tears in your bottle. You have recorded each one in your book” (Psalm 56:8).

There are times I’m tempted to believe that God simply does not care anymore. If he did, why would He allow me to lose three family members within the span of six months? Why would he stand by through one of the most painful relational fallouts I’ve ever experienced? Why did I have to lose my mother right before I became one?

I don’t get all the answers to my ‘whys’ this side of eternity—but I do get assurance of His closeness in the darkness. 

We are reminded that in the end, the Lord will wipe our tears away (Revelation 21:4). To collect tears, and to wipe them, you have to get pretty close. Both actions require the Comforter to touch the face of the broken. 

And if you’re in grief right now, let me assure you that Jesus’ hand is touching your face. He is collecting your tears. He has recorded your sorrows. 

I pray that even in grief, you will sense His nearness. I pray that in the bleakness you will seek Christ in the dark. 

The Jesus who held out his hands out on the cross can still hold you now. 

The one who wipes away sin and death will personally wipe your tears from your face.