Handling Grief

A friend of mine recently dealt with the one-year anniversary of the sudden death of her sister. As she shared how the day went and told stories about the messages people gave her, we couldn't help but shake our heads. What are people thinking sometimes? Another friend chimed in, "But what do you say to someone who is grieving? I never know what to say or do."

Her question prompted a lot of reflection. My family has been through the wringer on more than one occasion, and deep grief is not a foreign concept to me. How did I want people to respond to me?

After my mom almost died from a virus in her heart and then was miraculously healed by the power of God in 2001, I experienced a deep post-traumatic depression. I had held my emotions in check during Mom's entire illness and didn't experience the grief and trauma of what had happened until after Mom was healed. At the time I was reading through the Christy Miller series by Robin Jones Gunn for a second time, and I reached the book where Katie broke up with her boyfriend Michael and Christy and friends didn't know how to comfort her. So they planned a fun trip to Disneyland to cheer her up, but halfway through the day Katie ends up in sobs. "How can I help you?" Christy asks. "Just let me hurt," Katie replies.

Just let me hurt.

Too often we feel like we need to say something. Tell the grieving widow that her husband is "in a better place." Or that "everything will be okay." We combat emotions with facts, as if knowledge will suddenly erase the grief. We give a theology lesson instead of a silent hug. We offer solutions instead of a willingness to simply listen.

What do you do when someone you know is grieving? You pray for them, hug them, hold them. You listen to them vent bad theology about God . . .

and just let them hurt.


When Job's three friends . . . heard about all the troubles that had come upon him, they set out from their homes and met together by agreement to go and sympathize with him and comfort him. When they saw him from a distance, they could hardly recognize him; they began to weep aloud, and they tore their robes and sprinkled dust on their heads. Then they sat on the ground with him for seven days and seven nights. No one said a word to him, because they saw how great his suffering was. —Job 2:11–13