Tag Archives: loss

by | April 14, 2025 · 6:40 am

A Time to Grieve

Sometimes weeping is exactly what we most need to do. (A Biblical Reflection for Holy Week)

The Pieta in a frieze depicting Mary’s grief (In the choir, Chartres Cathedral, France)

In the biblical book of Ecclesiastes, the preacher writes: “There is a time for everything, and a season for every activity under the heavens: a time to be born and a time to die… a time to weep and a time to laugh, a time to mourn and a time to dance…” (3:1,4).

So, what time is it? What time is it for those living in places like Myanmar, Eastern Congo, Ukraine, Gaza, and many other places around the world, for those whose lives are consumed by unimaginable hardship, violence, and loss due to war, earthquakes, famines and other apocalyptic like disasters? What time is it in America? What time is it for you?

For me, there is not one simple answer. On one hand, the problems and suffering of the world call me to take my responsibility as a global citizen all the more seriously, to look for more ways to support my brothers and sisters in Christ around the world, to speak out against injustice at home and abroad, to protect the vulnerable and abused, to share the Gospel with those who do not know the hope that comes through Jesus, and to link arms with others who are trying to exhibit the love of Christ in concrete ways to those in need.

At yet, sometimes it all feels like too much. Sometimes weeping is exactly what I most need to do. And it’s not just me. One of my closest colleagues in Myanmar, who does more than anyone I know to help others in need, wrote to me after the 7.7 magnitude earthquake and admitted, “Sometimes I feel very depressed.” Another colleague from Ukraine confided to me, “I am war fatigued, to say the least.” At such times, as much as I would like to bury my painful feelings, run away, or just collapse in weariness, what I usually need most is to stop trying to help anyone else for a moment and take some time to grieve.

  • By grieving, I release the tremendous pain I feel before it explodes inside me or utterly depresses me.
  • By grieving, I can feel and not forget how much I loved whomever or whatever I lost.
  • By grieving, I can rage against the powers of death and destruction, refusing to be defeated by evil.
  • By grieving, I feel the depth of my frustration and tap into my determination to live.   
  • By grieving, I admit to myself, “So much is out of my control. There’s so much I would like to have been able to do but couldn’t.”
  • By grieving, I give up expecting unrealistic miracles. Instead, I reach the end of myself and reach out to God and others for the comfort and strength I need.

On Good Friday, Christians remember the awful day when evil forces conspired to kill Jesus. In the photo you see, Mary, the mother of Jesus, is depicted with her hands outstretched, her face contorted with grief, and her eyes turned heavenward. Her beloved son, Jesus, had just been brutally nailed to a cross, executed for daring to challenge the religious authorities, who were blind to God’s working through his life and indifferent to the needs of the poor, needy, and vulnerable.

In her moment of unimaginable pain, with Jesus’s lifeless body draped over her knee, Mary could only see and feel her great loss. She didn’t know that resurrection was coming. Even if she had all the faith in the world, the horror of it all remains. What must it have been like for Jesus’s poor mother? What is it like for those burying their dead in Mandalay, in bombed out villages, in IDP camps? For those who are still searching for lost ones, who have disappeared or are presumed dead under the rubble of fallen buildings?

I only imagine how great their grief must be. But I do know this. For those who turn to God amid their pain and loss, and for those who put their faith in Jesus Christ, they do not “grieve… as those who have no hope” (1 Thess. 4:13). Why not? Because through a relationship with Jesus Christ, we do have hope. Hope that we are not alone or abandoned by our Creator. Hope for life after death—not just a reincarnation into another life of suffering, but eternal life with new bodies, hearts, and minds, re-created to live in fellowship with God forever. This promise is for all those who know and love their Creator and who put their faith Jesus Christ as their Savior and Lord. It’s by Christ’s sacrificial death that we are forgiven. It’s by the Holy Spirit that our hearts and minds are renewed. And it’s by believing that we are saved (Romans 8:1-6; 10:9-10).

That’s the hope we as Christians live by. But for this holy week, we must pass through Good Friday first. The night is so very dark, and our tears flow. It’s a time to grieve.

With the love of Jesus Christ,

Dr. Tim

Next time, I will write about “The Journey to Joy”.

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by | May 3, 2024 · 3:55 pm

Grieving Our Losses

…honestly, yet hopefully

[Four minute read]

Serving victims of oppression, brutality, and destruction in Myanmar, Thailand, and the Democratic Republic of the Congo has forced me to grapple with unimaginable trauma and despair afflicting those living in or fleeing war zones. Their suffering and losses are often unimaginable to someone like me, who grew up in a comfortable, relatively safe, Midwestern town in the United States. Yet, there they are. Right in front of my eyes.

Sometimes, all they have left is their tears. Sometimes, all they can feel is their rage. Their future has been decimated. Their hope shattered. Biblical promises fall flat. God seems cruelly absent.

Just recently, one of my former students in Myanmar, Pastor “Kyaw”, texted me with some tragic news. His village had been bombed. Several were killed or injured. For many, everything they owned went up in flames. More than 200 homes now lie in ruins, including his own. As is true for some three million people throughout Myanmar, most of the people have sought shelter in an internally displaced persons (IDP) camp or have fled the country. Their village has become a ghost town.

How are they going to survive? How are they going to cope psychologically, emotionally, and spiritually? What will be the long term of effect of such trauma and loss?

In talking with Pastor Kyaw, Psalm 137 came to mind. I’m sure the ancient Israelites were asking themselves the same questions during their exile in Babylon (6th Century BC). They had been conquered by an invading army. They were forced from their beloved villages and country. They had lost everything that was “home” to them and were now captives in a foreign land. As far as they could see, they had no hope. No future.

“By the rivers of Babylon—there we sat down and there we wept when we remembered Zion…. O daughter Babylon, you devastator! Happy shall they be who pay you back what you have done to us! Happy shall they be who take your little ones and dash them against the rock!” (Psalm 137: 1, 8-9, NRSV)

According to the famous psychiatrist, Elisabeth Kübler-Ross, those who suffer significant loss typically move through five stages of grief: denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and acceptance (On Death and Dying, 1969). 

  • “Denial” is when you are still in shock or just can’t get your head around what just happened or what bad news the doctor told you is going to happen. 
  • In “Anger,” you rage, sometimes quietly, sometimes loudly. You never dreamed that something like this would happen to you. And if someone betrayed you or let you down—whether it is yourself, someone else, or God—you might be really angry about it, and wind up lashing out with hateful or violent words to hurt whomever you blame for your loss.
  • In the “Bargaining” stage, you might obsess on how you might have prevented the tragedy. “If only I had done [this or that] ….” Or, if you’re grappling with bad news for the future, you may make desperate promises to yourself, to others, or to God. “I promise I will do better….” hoping to somehow prevent the inevitable.
  • In “Depression,” the horrible truth has finally sunk in, but it may feel like too much to bear. Your energy and drive are gone. You may be plagued with guilt, shame, or despair. You may not even want to get out of bed in the morning. 
  • Fortunately, depression need not be the final stage in grief. For most people, at some point, there comes “Acceptance.” Here, you finally accept what you cannot change in the past or something that is going to happen. You may retain an emotional tie to someone or something you have lost, but the bond you feel ceases to be debilitating. Your strength and motivation to live return. 

I don’t know for sure which stage the ancient Israelites were in when Psalm 137 was written. It’s obvious they were in a lot of pain, and they certainly hadn’t reached the acceptance stage. They were still weeping and raging. The psalmist was even dreaming of the most cruel kind vengeance imaginable. His feelings were raw and real, but only one snapshot within his undoubtedly long grief process.

Thus, we should not think this psalm is blessing hatefulness or brutal retribution. Rather, it acknowledges the need for honesty about our darkest and most troubled feelings en route to healing and wholeness. Our instinctive reactions may look really ugly at times, but honesty must precede transformation.

When I feel distraught or full of rage, as painful as it may be, it’s usually best if I let myself feel my feelings. I try not to condemn myself for feeling hateful or vengeful, but I don’t act on these feelings. I recognize that I’m grieving, and such reactions are normal. I need to be honest about how I’m feeling, but I don’t have to stay stuck there. Truly, I don’t want to waste my life being angry all the time.

After Jesus’ horrific killing, followed by his astonishing resurrection, the time came for him to say goodbye to his disciples. One more loss for the disciples. Yet, according to the Gospel of Matthew (28:19-20), Jesus urged his disciples to look forward, not backwards. He told them to focus on their calling, which in their case was to preach, teach, and demonstrate the truth of the Gospel. And he assured them that they would not be alone. “And surely,” Jesus promised, “I am with you always, to the end of the age” (Matt. 28:20b). 

When I come to the depression stage, sometimes, I just need to feel sad. My sadness honors the fact that I cared a lot about whatever was (or will be) lost. Yet, as upsetting or devastating as the situation may be, I don’t want to spend the rest of my life feeling sad. Depression is not my destiny. I may not feel hopeful at the moment, but I can choose to believe that God is present and at work in my life for good. And I can reach out to Jesus to ask for help to escape the darkness and despair.

I don’t know what kind of loss you might be grieving right now, or what stage of grief you might be in. But based on my ministry among victims of war and great loss, my personal experience, and the teaching of the Bible, I can assure you there’s more to your life and future than whatever you’re experiencing at the moment. It won’t always feel this awful. There will be a better day. No matter what you may have lost, you still have an important purpose in life. There’s work for you do—people who need your love and care. Other grieving or struggling wayfarers, who need a word of encouragement or simply a helping hand. …those who do not know the hope you have of an enduring relationship with God through Jesus.

So, grieve your own losses honestly. Be compassionate and patient with yourself as you work through the various stages of grief. Yet also remain hopeful. You are not alone, and Jesus Christ has called you to share in his ministry of love in this broken world full of so much sorrow and pain.

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by | September 11, 2022 · 8:15 pm

Coping Better with Unwanted Change: Four Steps to Greater Peace and Joy (Step 1)

What unwanted change is wreaking havoc in your life right now? Maybe it’s a significant loss—you were fired, someone you loved died or left you, or you’re grappling with an unexpected financial setback or liability. Maybe you received a frightening diagnosis, or you are struggling with an ongoing illness or disability. Maybe it’s an upsetting situation (or person) that you can’t avoid, such as an unreasonable boss, a troublesome neighbor, or a forced move and undesirable change of location. Whatever it may be, how are you handling it?

I’ve always been a glass-half-full kind of person. I believe in the power of positive thinking. Yet, how can you be upbeat when your life suddenly changes dramatically for the worse? How can you get past all the inner turmoil when you’ve lost so much or continually have to deal with a person or situation that you hate but can’t get away from?   

In this multi-part series, I’m going to share four steps that have been very helpful to me when I have felt heart-broken, frustrated, disappointed, sorry for myself, or any number of other negative emotions due to some unwanted change, circumstance, or person in my life. These insights first came to me many years ago when wrestling with painful relational issues when my family and I walked across northern Spain on the Camino in 2006. Over time, I’ve come to see that the same “4 Steps to Loving A Hard to Love Person” (See, Accept, Appreciate, and Delight) also provide a pathway to coping better with any unwanted change in my life. These steps may take a great deal of time to work through, but when taken thoughtfully and prayerfully, they have proven very helpful in getting unstuck mentally and emotionally in a wide variety of difficult situations. In this post, we’ll look at just the first step in this process.

Step 1: “See”

By the rivers of Babylon—

there we sat down and there we wept

when we remembered Zion.

Psalm 137:1 (NRSV)

When ancient Israel suddenly found themselves as captives in Babylon in 586 BC, they had to grapple with incredible losses—the destruction of the Temple in Jerusalem (Zion), their forced exile from their home country, and the collapse of their lives as they knew them. We can’t go back to reconstruct all the ways they handled this tragedy, but can infer from the text that, instead of putting their heads in the sand (e.g., by believing false prophets who tried to give them false hope of returning to Judah), the exiles saw the situation for what it was, faced the awful truth, and let themselves feel the emotional weight of their losses. “By the rivers of Babylon—there we sat down and there we wept….” Such grief was bitter, but it was also an important step toward moving forward.

However, for many of us, when we experience great loss or are suddenly forced to cope with frightening or overwhelming burdens, instead of facing the truth as the Israelites did, we get stuck in nonproductive, emotional turmoil. We may walk around in a daze or even in denial of what’s happened, or our fight-flight-freeze instincts may trigger an intense emotional response that either ties us up in knots on the inside or pushes us to act in unhelpful or even hurtful ways.

That’s what was happening to me for much of 2021. After 13 years of (in-person) teaching in Myanmar, the doors suddenly slammed shut in my face, when the military seized power in a coup-d’état on February 1. My school suspended all classes, the country began its ongoing slide into disarray, and it became no longer safe for me to return. Then there was the daily trauma from continual reports of imprisonment, beatings, or killing of protestors, doctors, journalists, political opponents of the regime, and even some of my students. Houses were burned to the ground and hundreds of thousands fled to the jungles to survive.

All this felt overwhelming and too difficult to fully face. For months, I felt almost panicky about my powerlessness to help them. I felt guilty that I wasn’t doing more, yet I could never identify what I could do differently. And so, instead of coming to grips with reality, I lived in a perpetual state of anxiety on their behalf, as if sharing their distress and desperation would somehow prove that I wasn’t abandoning them in their hour of need. The truth was, I was so caught up in my unexamined, emotional reaction that I couldn’t realistically assess the situation. I was stuck in my emotional turmoil, carrying a burden that wasn’t helpful to me or anyone else.

In practice

How about you? Where are you being held prisoner by your emotional reactions? What do you need to see more clearly about whatever you’re grappling with?

  • What did you lose or what burden has been placed on your shoulders that you did not choose and do not want?
  • What is the clearest, most accurate, description of what happened or is happening?
  • If you could name it, in a word or two, what would you call what happened to you?
  • How is this [unwanted situation] affecting you emotionally, physically, relationally, and spiritually?
  • What is your best realistic assessment of the implications of this change for your future?

Even if it takes more time than you’d like to be able to answer these questions clearly, don’t give up until you get enough emotional distance to accurately assess your situation. Be patient with yourself, but don’t give up. The goal is to be able to make good decisions about your future based on the truth instead of being held prisoner to your emotional reactions or a distorted picture of reality.

Here is one short prayer that I created many years ago continues to be helpful to me whenever I’m in emotional turmoil and can’t seem to see clearly. Perhaps it will help you, too.

“Loving God, please help me to see whatever I need to see. Give me courage to face the truth, and wisdom and strength to act on whatever you reveal.”

Next week, Step 2: “Accept,” the next critical step toward recovering your inner peace and joy.

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