Grief Sets You Apart

I miss my son. My special, strong boy. The missing will never leave me. The place where he belongs in our family only gets larger as he would be getting older. I missed him terribly at Graham's birthday party. His little brother was so clearly absent that I could feel it with each breath that I took. 

I think that I will look for him each day of my life. Every family photo I will notice where he would be. Every meal, every holiday, every moment of my life, I look to the place made just for Hudson. On Graham's wedding day, we will have a missing groomsman. On my deathbed, I will be looking and seeing where he should be standing, next to his big brother, Graham. This hole will never leave me. I will always see and feel it.

Grief is longing and loving and aching. It washes over like a tidal wave that nearly drowns you. Grief changes everything. Everything. It has changed my capacity (everything requires more energy now), the way I see the world, the way I see God and prayer and church and worship. It has changed me. My heart has aged a lifetime.

I feel everything more deeply now. The good and the hard emotions. Joy is more palpable and genuine, and sorrow is felt down in my bones.  

We all carry grief in our hearts. A lost love. A lost dream. A lost marriage. A lost child. A lost parent. A lost sibling. A lost career.  A loss of health. A loss of identity.

Our grief sets us apart. It marks us. We are persevering in a fallen and broken world with battle scars. The danger I am facing is that grief wants to separate me.

Being set apart as a veteran of grief and loss is something that God can use. 

But, grief wants to whisper often and consistently, "No one understands, nor can they understand. You are alone in your sorrow. You are alone in your loss. You don't manage your grief like you should. You should hide. You should be ashamed. You should have more faith. God doesn't even understand you anymore. You are different now. They don't want to know this new you. This hurting you. Just pull away. Just hide. Just manage the tidal wave alone."

I am in the war now. Everything in me wants to retreat and be separated by my grief. Separated from people, family, my own heart, and certainly from this big God who loves me but confuses me.

My new prayer is that God would allow my grief to set me apart, battle scars and all. But, that I won't believe the lies and run away alone and be swallowed by the grief. Because, oh will it swallow you! 

I was reminded of this beautiful song last week and I just realized (after naming this post!) it has the phrase, "set me apart" right there in the lyrics. Lord, chase me down when grief drags me to loneliness, hopelessness, and deep sorrow. Don't let me isolate my heart from those who love me. Don't let my hardened, bruised heart push you away. Mold me, Lord. Make me like clay in your hands. I've been there before but now, I'm so wounded that my heart is hardened in the survival of grief. Soften me, Lord, and then use me again.

The Potter's Hand

Beautiful Lord, wonderful savior

I know for sure, all of my days are held in Your hands

Crafted into Your perfect plan

You gently call me, into Your presence

Guiding me by, Your Holy Spirit

Teach me, dear Lord,

To live all of my life through Your eyes

I'm captured by, Your Holy calling

Set me apart

I know You're drawing me to Yourself

Lead me, Lord, I pray

Take me, Mold me

Use me, Fill me

I give my life to the Potter's hands

Hold me, Guide me

Lead me, Walk beside me

I give my life to the Potter's hand

A Ministry I Never Wanted

When I was in college I spent many hours listening to talks and reading books about giving my all for Jesus. As I listened to seasoned missionaries like Helen Roseveare and passionate pastors like John Piper, I was challenged to consider my comfort zone and flee from it for fear of passivity in the urgent call of Christ. I was deeply in love with Jesus because He had pursued me for many years as ran with all my might away from my church upbringing. As my heart softened to Jesus in college, I began to desire to live a life that honored Him. I started considering where God would use me. I knew from scripture that many who followed Christ went to hard places and went through challenging times. My worldview was being shaped by legacies of Christian missionaries like Nate Saint, Jim Elliot, and Dietrich Bonhoeffer. I needed these challenges to my Americanized view of comfortable Christianity. 

I remember telling God in tears in my dorm room, “I will go anywhere you send me with whomever you choose.” I thought I was offering my whole heart and life. I thought I knew what a mission field looked like and I felt ready for this challenging call of Christ to take up my cross.

I would find myself thinking about the kinds of hard circumstances I might be called to at some point in my life. My limited view imagined that God might call me to live without air conditioning, far from my family, for the sake of The Gospel.

So, it was clear that I desperately needed the challenges of other spiritual giants to get out of my very limited comfort zone. I thought that my worldview had exploded to include the huts in a country without proper toilets. I thought a difficult calling was limited to ministry in the inner city or with a tribe in Africa. I can say with firsthand knowledge that ministry in both of those places is extremely difficult but once again, my scope of calling, ministry, and challenging was extremely narrow.

My view of calling and ministry has expanded with years of walking with Him. I have now seen that God often gives us ministry opportunities that we never asked for and certainly never wanted.

For example, when I approached my late twenties as a single, I thought, “For sure I’ll meet my husband soon. All my friends are married.” When my friends started having their second and third child I thought, “He must be on the horizon.”

But, that wasn’t the case. When my heart was broken at the age of 31 by a man I thought I would marry, God gave me a ministry I never wanted. What I wanted was to be married and raise children but God, in His sovereign goodness, gave me women with broken hearts to walk alongside, study scripture, and do our lives together.  He gave me opportunities to use the pain, rejection, and tears. My worldview about ministry opened again. Living many years of singleness and ministering out of that stage of life was incredibly rewarding but also vulnerable and painful. And, I certainly hadn’t asked for this season of prolonged singleness.

Fast forward a few years and God called me to a new mission field called the Cardiac Intensive Care Unit. I never dreamed of spending nine months in a hospital with my very sick son. I remember holding him and thinking about that same hut in Africa that terrified me as a new Christian. I remember wishing to be in the hut far from the pain I was feeling seeing my son hurt. Once again, God gave me a ministry I never asked for or wanted. I can’t say I did this unwanted ministry well on most days for it was consuming emotionally and physically simply being a mom to a critically sick baby but I have a few select memories of God working through my presence in this unlikely mission field.

I held a mom as her son’s heart rate fell to zero and the code alarm sounded. I prayed for so many heart babies and families whom I would never had known without the calling to the heart unit. I prayed for my own son and sang songs to him about our big God. I told him of heaven and he was my ministry. I wouldn’t trade that previously unwanted mission field for the world, no matter how painful.

Now that we have lost our son, I find myself with a new ministry. Once again this is a ministry I did not want or ask for. I never wanted to be in the “I lost a child” club like the rest of its members. In the year since losing our son, people will reach out to me because they have a sick child, they have lost a child, or a close friend has lost a child. I don’t have magic words but I am honest, vulnerable, and cry real tears with them. I don’t try to suppress their pain with fluffy words or put a quick band-aid on it with a verse out of place. I simply hear their stories, share mine, and together we feebly try to see the hope only found in Jesus.

I’m guessing that God has given most of us ministries we never wanted. I can think of a few just amongst my friends.

Folks like the…

Foster parents who are offering their hearts to the unknown for the sake of the children.

Single women giving their everything for Christ and not settling for less than God’s best.

Teachers who bring in extra supplies and deeply love their students.

Nurses who do their very best even when they are bone tired.

Divorcees who choose to engage in church and love on others even when their lives have been torn apart.

Parents taking care of chronically sick children.

Pastors who come to your side during all the beautiful and horrific things life brings.

Families who are pursuing adoption after long battles with infertility and miscarriages.

While I still am unsure about this ministry with hurting families of child loss, I am honored that God would use my broken heart once again in the lives of others to bring glory for His namesake.

For all of you stepping into ministry moments that you never wanted, I am right there too and I see you. Most importantly God sees you and He’s equipped you, even if you never asked for it!

To God be the Glory