In “A Grief Observed,” C.S. Lewis compares grief to the feeling of being in suspense. The painful separation from the target of our affections gives life “a permanently provisional feeling” On one hand, I understood the feeling he was describing. We feel stuck in this dark space, waiting to get back into the clear again. The great loss of something irreplaceable becomes a looming grey cloud. I knew I wasn’t grasping all of what he meant. I was missing something; but what? It eluded me as my thoughts returned to those words several times over the last few months. And over the last few months I’d abandoned and returned to this story just as many times.
After healing from my own grief, I went through a season of feeling deeply disappointed with my sin and shortcomings. While it is a great blessing to be surrounded by people who are more mature spiritually, it also brings to light how far behind you are. I became shamefully aware of my lack of knowledge and life experience. The aim of my judgmental tendency turned inward and I realized my own ignorance. I felt like a fraud.
I suppose we all have these seasons. It’s the Holy Spirit’s nudge towards character change. Most of us will go through similar sufferings whether it’s the grief of death or grief over our own sin. My story is like many others and so I share it, not to impart wisdom; I truly am ill-equipped for that, but to share something that might be encouraging. Sometimes it’s as simple as knowing that someone else understands our struggles. As always, my prayer is that this reaches a heart that will glean from it exactly what the Lord wills.
Though this story evolved quite a bit, it makes sense to start it where I originally did; on Good Friday 2021. It was slightly chilly, but clear and sunny; a foretaste of Spring. It was a packed church; anticipatory worshipers were dressed in jeans and slacks paired with pressed button downs and sweaters in mauve and pastel greens. It looked like casual Friday at the office. But this Friday was not laid back like those often are. My heart was heavy and my throat felt thick. I was pressed into a somber mood as if we were gathering for a memorial service. In a way, we were.
It was close to dusk and sun beams burst through the church windows as a contrast to the internal darkness present. The scene outside and the words of the pastors battled for my attention. Not to say that their words weren’t divinely inspired. But nature is divinely inspired as well and so the thought persisted: what is God going to tell us tonight? As we listened to messages about sacrifice and redemption, cotton ball clouds lingered in the open blue. Grass blades swayed a little and trees made sketch book shadows on the green field. We sang and the sun began to sink. The light took on a deeper gold-ish hue in one last effort to shine before darkness took over. It was like a cheerful major chord before the end of a symphony.
“At noon, darkness came over the whole land until three in the afternoon. And at three in the afternoon Jesus cried out in a loud voice, “Eloi, Eloi, lema sabachthani?” (which means “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?”). Mark 15: 33-34 (NIV). In the span of thousands of years how could 3 hours be significant? But it’s in there because it is significant. There’s a time set aside for the darkness and it’s imperative that we don’t rush through it. It’s a critical part of the story. It feels like suspense, like waiting, yes; but it’s a sacred space to be in. It’s where Jesus draws closer to us. Something is happening to us when we are in that space. Something is always happening. For us.
“Nothing static surrounds us. The sea ripples at every moment, the cloud twists moving from place to place…even if everything were fixed, it would be enough for the sun to move, which it does constantly, giving things a different aspect…” Twentieth century Spanish painter Joaquin Sorolla was expressing the challenges of trying to capture a moment in nature. We know it’s actually Earth moving while the sun is static, but you get the idea. God is always working, even when we can’t perceive it.
I think back to the hard runs I wrote about 2 years ago when my mom was in the hospital for 6 weeks. I would run on the track near the hospital. It was unusually hot for September and my limbs felt extra heavy. I thought that if I could push through these tough runs, it would help me be strong enough to face the challenges that her Alzheimer’s would bring. I get that no one is strong enough on their own, God was the one who carried me through those challenges. But I never discount the lessons that running teaches me. I think I can speak for most Christian runners on this: it’s God who gives us a heart for running and it may simply be a way He’s chosen to teach us.
When you’re on a track, loop after loop, you may feel like you’re not going anywhere; but you are making progress. As God is working, He wants us to work with Him. He also wants us to have patience. I remember seeing footprints in the gravel of the track and realizing that someone had run that path before me. Over the next couple of years, I met several wonderful friends that had already gone through similar hard times. They showed great resilience in their challenges and mentored me when I wasn’t even expecting it.
No one will ever experience the magnitude of suffering that Jesus did. It’s so very important that we don’t skim over this in our haste to celebrate the joy of the Resurrection. When we consider His suffering with the appropriate amount of reverence, it can be both humbling and life affirming. Especially for the times when we feel like our character doesn’t measure up. In a way it can’t; not compared to Christ. But we are so loved in spite of that. “But because of his great love for us, God, who is rich in mercy, made us alive with Christ even when we were dead in transgressions—it is by grace you have been saved.” Ephesians 2:4-5 (NIV) I don’t know if we can ever comprehend a love like that. It’s this love that can motivate us to do the things that are pleasing to God. But it’s okay if and when we don’t get it all right, Jesus understands.
Christ experienced separation from God so He could empathize with the moments when we feel like God has abandoned us. Of course God has never abandoned us. He is always good. Evil and darkness exist as well, but His goodness pervades it. When we understand that, it can bring a deep internal peace. It also helps to understand darkness in the scope of the entire story. Darkness adds depth to the story. The dark and the light, the sun and the clouds, the bright sky and the shadows from the trees; they’re all required to create the beautiful masterpiece.
God’s Word and our experience teaches us that there is a time for everything. The light will come … and then more dark… and then light again. Each one has its own purpose. “Not only so, but we also glory in our sufferings, because we know that suffering produces perseverance; perseverance, character; and character, hope. And hope does not put us to shame, because God’s love has been poured out into our hearts through the Holy Spirit, who has been given to us.” Romans 5: 3-5 (NIV)
There’s a purpose to everything because God has a plan. Part of that plan is a wonderful promise. And because He is good, He will keep his promise. That’s really what Lewis meant by suspense, we’re awaiting His promise of things to come. Eternal joys that we can’t possibly dream of. And actually all of this life is merely provisional, if you believe in that promise.
In that same vein, we are given wonderful provisions here. The beauty of nature, art, and music; these are all things that God wants us to enjoy. They’re signs of His love and care. He provides food to nourish us, homes to give us shelter, and most importantly good friends, to come alongside us when we are grieving. “When Jesus saw his mother there, and the disciple whom he loved standing nearby, he said to her, “Woman, here is your son,” and to the disciple, “Here is your mother.” From that time on, this disciple took her into his home.” John 19:26-27 (NIV) People like this are led by the Spirit to reflect Christ. More than anything else, this is an extension of his love. If we let it, this love can fill the gaps that are left by the one we are grieving and that reflection can be the most powerful light we have in the darkness.
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All beautifully said Bianca. These were good reminders for myself
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Thank you, Heidi!
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