The Collosal Waves of Grief
I will not leave you comfortless: I will come to you. John 14:18
This place is strangely familiar. I hate it with a passion. I do not want to be here.
Grief is an ocean of collosal waves. And just because I have head knowledge and heart knowledge of them, does not mean that I have any power to escape. I am submerged again.
I just lost someone I love so deeply, my dad. And I am a Daddy’s girl.
I learned the hard way from when my mom went to be with Jesus eight years ago that, if I know what is good for me, I will try my best to roll with these monster waves. I am powerless to fight them anyway.
One minute I find myself treading water, managing, though with great difficulty, to get by. The next, I am swallowed up by a crippling current of tears and anguish, completely engulfed by a suffocating, vast, deep darkness that draws me downward with incredible force.
In the beginning, these waves of grief are enormous and close together and crash over me without mercy. I cannot even catch my breath. I know in time that, although the waves will come less frequently, they will still come and overtake me.
While I know about the grief of losing my parents, lasting comfort is not found in what I know. It is found in Who I know.
Through His son Jesus Christ, God made a way for me to be reunited with my loved ones one day. He has promised to never leave me (Joshua 1:5, Hebrews 13:5). He is committed to making even the worst moments in my life result in good (Romans 8:28-38). And He will give me everything I need to face whatever I encounter in this fallen world (2 Peter 1:3) … even death and these collosal waves.
Dear Lord: Thank you that even death does not separate us from Your love through Christ Jesus. One day You will dry all our tears. But for today, please hold me while I cry. Amen