Grieves Me to Not Grieve, Coping Yet Again

A couple of years ago, I had the opportunity to spend about two hours at a visitation for dear Christian friends from our previous church, who had lost their only daughter. It grieved me to hear of it just earlier that same morning when one of my Brothers woke me with the news.

After being there that night, I became mindful of several passages in Scripture - not as a result of seeing the Christ-like behaviors of self-proclaimed Christians modeled before me at the visitation... but by the lack consideration for those grieving.

Let me explain.

In Galatians 6:2 the writer encourages us to "bear one another's burdens, and so fulfill the Law of Christ." Yet, I saw (and heard) many people drawing off the attention in that atmosphere, elevating their own conditions, challenges and inconveniences far above the situation... and, by way of a huge faux pas, doing so within earshot of the grieving parents.

So, why did they even go to the funeral home that night?

In Ecclesiastes, chapter 3, the 'old man' states that there is a time for everything, "a time to be born , and a time to die..." and "...a time to weep, and a time to laugh; a time to mourn, and a time to dance..." Yet, at that particular time I heard and saw much unrelated laughter - bordering on revelry - associated with heated discussions ranging from last season's football stats to parties these revelers were going to afterwards.

A party? Really? Really... sad.

In Romans 12:15, Paul - as the LORD had laid on his heart to write - chose these words... "Rejoice with those who rejoice and weep with those who weep." I know laughter is good medicine - but shouldn't it be appropriate - both in substance and timing - to the circumstances? I, myself, use to subscribe to the myth that some folks needed to laugh to "cope" with the situation. Those who choose this mechanism of coping strike me not so much so as "rude" but "selfish".

When were these "mourners" going to mourn? Honestly, what impression were they under?

I have decided (other than "to follow Jesus") that I don't need 'coping mechanisms' for what stresses me.

And Jesus said, "my grace is sufficient for you" (2 Cor 12:9) and I don't have to deal with the stress in this life all by myself because I don't have to "cope" with it, I can surrender my stress to His grace - Praise the LORD!  No, I don't need a 'coping mechanism' - I don't have to own "it".

He (also) said for Christians to "...take my yoke upon you, and learn from me, for I am gentle and lowly in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light." (Mat 11:30) I can surrender my burden for a better one - Praise the LORD! I don't need a 'coping mechanism' - I'm not that strong.

The prophet said, 700 years before My Savior was born, "but they who wait for the LORD shall renew their strength; they shall mount up with wings like eagles; they shall run and not be weary; they shall walk and not faint." (Isa 40:31). I can surrender my impatience for endurance - Praise the LORD! I don't need a coping mechanism - I don't have a promise of His strength.




I can put myself aside and (really) be there for those who need me to simply be there - even if I don't have the right words to say. It's known has a "ministry of presence"; and, in that silence, the Spirit may choose to minister, to speak and to be the Word through me (and others) in order to bring comfort to the grieving ones.

So, yet again, as this life is bench-marked (new) more losses - I find myself going to (yet) another visitation tomorrow night. The names are changed, the chapel is different, the cause of death even more so; but, in that silence, that ministry, that mission which the Spirit directs - I can be a presence for the LORD in that place.

And, it will try me - each one does - but this one, more so. It will be my parents grieving for the loss of a friend, while they grieve with his surviving widow, another friend.

And they need the presence of the LORD there, they will require my presence, not a coping mechanism.