The knowing of God in grief

And the work of remembering

The book I am now halfway through writing is not about grief. Not ostensibly, anyway. It is not about how to get through grief or how to get over grief. It is about how God uses every scrap of it—the love and the grief that love leaves behind—to shape us, how he mines goodness from the bitter dregs of it.

There are aspects of his character we can only see from below. There are certain truths that prove truest in the valley of the shadow. There is a particular knowing of God that we gain in the pit of suffering, and it is worth talking about.

“Beloved,” Peter writes in his first letter, “do not be surprised at the fiery trial when it comes upon you to test you, as though something strange were happening to you. But rejoice insofar as you share Christ’s sufferings, that you may also rejoice and be glad when his glory is revealed” (1 Peter 4:12-13).

I am grateful to have the chance to rehearse these themes again and again as I write. Because I am often surprised by the fiery trial. It is often with much effort that I have to rehearse again the words I just wrote—the remembrances of God’s faithfulness in the last trial and the hope of his faithfulness in the next.

How easy it is to forget the nearness of God. How often, when I scoop my 2-year-old out of her bed, has she woken with the words, “I’m scared!” on her lips? “God is with you,” I remind her. “God is with you,” I remind myself.

We all need help remembering that, whether a fresh wave of grief is washing over us now or seems only a distant threat. Here’s a poem I wrote about how quickly grief can return.

Grief is like coals,
smoldering just beneath the surface.
You don’t need a spark
to send them into flame again.
Just a stirring of the wind,
a whiff of the one who used to be here.

Whether grief comes like a slow-building wave or a fast-burning flame, its intensity has a way of isolating us. No one experiences the same emotions at the same time. But others have been there, and they’ve recorded the feelings at their worst. That’s why books and songs can become such dear friends in seasons of sorrow. Here are a couple of resources that have carried me through recent bouts:

Grief: Walking with Jesus (31 days of devotions) by Bob Kellemen

I’ve had this devotional on my shelf for a couple years now but only recently reached for it. It was such a helpful daily dose of God’s truth during a hard week.

All My Questions album by Bethany Barnard

These songs record the artist’s raw, modern lament over the loss of her father. They are the real deal, with lyrics that make you feel known if you’ve been there, and make you wonder once the fog has lifted, “Wow, did I really feel like that?” Barnard (formerly Bethany Dillon before she married one of the Shane & Shanes) recently released a behind the songs version of the album with conversations about why she wrote each song.

I have about a dozen more books and songs I could recommend. I share some under my books/grief highlight on Instagram, if you follow me there. If you’re ever looking for something specific for a friend or for your own rough patch, please ask.