“God will get you through it” is a promise I’ve heard multiple times in the past eight months.
Problem is, when a person feels distant from God, this preaching may fall on deaf ears. After all, when you sustain a crushing blow without a moment’s warning — as I did when my husband died — you may resist assurances about the Lord coming to your rescue.
So when you encounter a widow with red, swollen eyes, please remember that even if she’s faithfully attending church or synagogue, she may still feel God is far away.
In my case, some people may think eight months is a long while to mourn a spouse — and I should be “over it” by now — but let me assure you, the journey can take years and a widow still won’t be cured.
Instead she will learn to manage the disease — and live with the scars.
Please don’t misunderstand me though: I don’t blame God for my husband’s death, nor do I imagine God thinking, “Oh, I know what I’ll do today — I’ll make that guy’s heart stop.”
True, God is all powerful, so he knew about the devastating incident — and, yes, he allowed it to happen. But it’s possible my husband’s heart had a hidden defect — and I certainly wouldn’t pin that on the Lord.
Much suffering comes from our fallen world in which our bodies succumb to viruses, cancers and other diseases, and nature goes haywire with earthquakes, tornadoes and hurricanes.
Judeo-Christian theology asserts the world God originally created was perfect — and death wasn’t in the primal script.
Still, people in the grips of suffering often feel the Lord has forgotten them. After all, even Jesus, as he was dying on the cross, cried out, "My God, why have you abandoned me?"
As for me, I keep mulling over the promise in Psalm 30 — which says joy comes in the morning. It's just that right now I'm stuck in a deep, dark night that seems endless.
In “Getting Through the Night,” Eugenia Price writes, “To expect anyone who has loved to walk away from an open grave in good, strong spirits — no matter how deeply rooted faith is — is as ridiculous as expecting a patient to get up off an operating table after major surgery and walk away.”
“God does not promise that you will ever stop missing, or even hurting,” she adds. “He promises that, in His strength, you can … learn to live again in morning light.”
Now I cling to the dream of someday comforting other “patients” languishing in sorrow.
I’ve learned it’s best to go easy on preaching and heavy on prayers. To walk with them as they creep slowly toward the light. And to hope that one day they’ll see a glimmer in your eyes, and feel God’s presence again.
About the Author
