Handing Grief to God

The loss of someone we love makes a tremendous impact on our lives. Because grief takes on different intensities and forms, everyone handles it differently. When I experienced the loss of both grandparents within two years, it affected me deeply. They were my parental figures for the entirety of my life. They raised me, taught me everything I know, and were the people I looked to for almost everything. Their loss left a deep hole in my life that I didn’t know how to fill.

When it came to processing my grief, I tried every route I could think of and initially started by trying to ignore it. I threw myself into more responsibility and dove into my work. I tried packing my schedule with activies, hoping that my grief might just disappear. I thought I was choosing a better path by not giving in to my emotions and even prided myself on being able to carry on with all my responsibilities. I thought I was doing a “good job” because grief didn’t slow me down or stop me from being productive.

Eventually, I realized that ignoring my loss wasn’t the answer, primarily because it kept me from bringing my grief to God. I knew deep down that I was hurting, but I didn’t want to bring my pain to Him. In short, this caused me to be inauthentic with God. I was showing up, but not fully there. I was going to God, but only half-heartedly. I found myself forcing some type of toxic positivity onto my time with God by pretending everything was fine. It was like I was wearing a mask, hiding my true feelings of deep sadness. But deep down, I knew I wasn’t fine, and God knew it, too. Somehow, keeping my grief hidden from God seemed easier than facing it, yet avoidance left me unable to fully embrace the presence of God and experience His fullness. I would walk away from our time together only feeling “half-better” due to my own half-hearted efforts.

After realizing that ignoring my grief wasn’t working, I tried to handle my grief by fully giving in to it. I listened to all the sad songs, spent loads of time throwing myself pity parties, and just plain wallowed in my troubles. My thinking was, “The only way to get through this is to go through it,” and in my mind, to do that, I had to feel it completely. Deep down, however, I realized that no amount of wallowing would be enough. And this led me to yet another attempt at managing my sadness.

People. Now, instead of handling my grief myself, I tried to fill the void of loss with other people. I expected people to do some heavy emotional labor in our relationships and placed them in positions of influence in my life that they were never meant for, nor had they earned. I jumped into and advanced certain relationships at a hurried pace. I increased my vulnerability and trust within relationships before the relationship was ready. I was looking for the same safety, trust, and dependability I had felt in the relationships I lost and expected these new relationships to fill the void without considering their strengths, weaknesses, or history. In short, the relational equity hadn’t had time to build, and I came to terms with the reality that no one person could or should try to replace what I had lost.
Somehow along my journey with grief, I let grief change my beliefs about God. I convinced myself that handing Him my grief was just too difficult, that He would get worn out, tired, or annoyed with my repetitive prayers or perceived neediness. I believed I would somehow exhaust God by how much I needed Him, and if I’m honest, I worried that if I laid everything out on the table and got vulnerable, uncomfortable, raw, and real about my grief, there would be nothing God could do to help me. And that terrified me.

Finally, however, I surrendered my grief to Him, and He taught me something from each path I tried to take, which ultimately led me closer to Him and reminded me of His redemptive plan for my pain.

Through my initial attempt of ignoring my grief, God taught me that carving out time in my schedule to experience my grief and spend time with Him was actually extremely healthy and necessary. He also taught me to be intentional about taking my grief to Him. He taught me that my pain, as well as my gratitude, is welcomed in His presence. I could be direct and approach Him boldly with all of my emotions. "Let us then approach God's throne of grace with confidence, so that we may receive mercy and find grace to help in time of need” (Hebrews 4:16). “Cast all your anxiety on Him, because He cares for you” (1 Peter 5:7).

God continued to show me that while leaning on the strength and support of community is incredibly helpful and important in seasons of deep loss, God alone is the only One who can truly fill the void. He alone knows the depth of the relationship we had with the person we lost. He understands our pain and will meet our need. “For your Father knows what you need before you ask Him” (Matthew 6:8). “And my God will supply every need of yours according to His riches in glory in Christ Jesus” (Philippians 4:19).

Lastly, I had to let go of my own preconceived fears about God and allow Him to remind me about the truth of who He is – faithful. He reinforced this truth by reminding me that He has unlimited capacity to support us all. He encouraged me by reminding me that He delights in caring for my needs. He strengthened my faith by reminding me that He is able and willing to help us, even if that help looks different than what we expect. This may include peace and comfort rather than instant relief. “He heals the brokenhearted and binds up our wounds” (Psalm 147:3). “The Lord is near to the brokenhearted and saves those crushed in spirit” (Psalm 34:18).

I hope that sharing what God taught me throughout my own season of grief will encourage you as you face your own. I pray that you will be guided by God’s truth about who He is and be reminded that He desires to operate in relationship with you. He loves you and is faithful. I wish you peace and blessings during this healing season.