Grief, Gratitude, and a Gentle God

rejoicing with those who rejoice and weeping with those who weep...

I once sat in a circle of church women where one person was sharing her frustration over a recent event in her life.

Her feelings were quite legitimate, given the circumstances, but then another woman abruptly halted the conversation by saying, “Well, you should be grateful.” For extra measure, she added a Bible verse, like a sour cherry on top, about how we are supposed to “give thanks in all circumstances.”

Those words — you should be grateful — shut down the conversation, and the hurting woman sat silent the rest of the meeting.

I hurt for her. And I sat in silence with her, inwardly fuming at the woman who callously shamed her for expressing her feelings. Because I’ve been there. Perhaps you have, too.

Sometimes our attempt to reach out and connect, our effort to be honest and vulnerable, is met with shame.

If this has ever happened to you, I’m so sorry. I wish we were all better at being softer listeners. I wish we always had the right words to say.

But we are all so human, and perhaps even the woman who uttered those hurtful words was hurting herself in ways that was hard for her to name. Perhaps she was struggling to hear of another person’s pain because she wasn’t dealing with her own very well. I don’t know.

I do know that I have never been quick with a verbal comeback. I am slow to mull over words. But I have continued to think about this tug-and-pull between an expression of grief and an expectation of gratitude. And this is what I want to say…

I do not believe the presence of grief automatically means the absence of gratitude.

I believe it is not only possible, but also acceptable, to hold both grief and gratitude in our hearts at the same time. And if there is anyone in the universe who understands this paradoxical truth, it is the heart of God.

So, wherever you are today, whether you’re filling up whole journals with countless lists of all the things you’re grateful for or perhaps wrestling with grief for reasons that are difficult to name, I want you to know it’s okay to be where you are.

We are not “less than” for feeling grief, just as we are not “more than” if we can rattle off a lengthy gratitude list.

Yes, a heart of gratitude is both good and right, but in the midst of hard times, gratitude is something we work at. For gratitude is oftentimes birthed in those seasons when easy circumstances are scarce, but we make the effort anyway to find those small gifts of beauty in our everyday lives.

Because this, too, is a common grace.

As it happens, today in my Bible-reading plan, I will say (for now) goodbye to Isaiah, and hello to Jeremiah.

I’m looking forward to a fresh return to this familiar text because, in many ways, Jeremiah feels like an old friend, and he has something to say about grief and gratitude as well. He’s a prophet known for his tears, and I’ve always appreciated this about him.

Jeremiah recorded these words:

If my head were a flowing spring, my eyes a fountain of tears, I would weep day and night over the slain of my dear people. (Jeremiah 9:1)

Right away we see that God’s chosen prophet gives us permission to grieve.

Jeremiah is usually dubbed “the weeping prophet,” and his nickname teaches us an important lesson. God didn’t choose a hard man to tell a hard truth. God appointed a prophet who would share in the heartache of the truth he faithfully delivered.

The truth came with tears.

He didn’t rejoice in pounding the people with propositional truths. He was faithful to speak the truth, but he also wept knowing how much it would cost his fellow humans if they failed to heed God’s multiple warnings.

Today, we live in a world where it seems like everyone is shouting into the void of the Internet. May we learn from Jeremiah how to speak the truth in love, with a heart of compassion for everyone we meet.

And when we are listening to a friend share her heart over a difficult situation, may we lean in close with a heart-posture that wants to follow Scripture’s command to “rejoice with those who rejoice” and “weep with those who weep” (Romans 12:15). For this is one way we can become the hands and feet of Jesus in a hurting world.

Shalom.