In 1969, a psychologist released a book based on her work with terminally ill patients at the University of Chicago Hospital called On Death and Dying.  In it, she described the seemingly similar stages that people grieving their own terminal illness go through.  The psychologist was Elizabeth Kubler-Ross, and her theory, despite not being accepted in all quarters, has gained wide cultural acceptance because it has hung words on a common human experience.  Her work gave words to one of the darkest human experiences: grief.

The five stages of grief: denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and acceptance, have become commonly accepted and assumed parts of the human experience of grief.  Whether Kubler-Ross discovered something or merely put helpful words on a thing many people experience is an open question.  What isn’t an open question is that grief is something every human will experience in one form or another.

I’m writing tonight because the last five years of my life have had plenty of grief (one instance of which I’ve written about here), and I’ve become concerned about a trend I see developing around me where people have become hardened to the grief of others and are responding in deeply unhelpful (and sometimes even harmful) ways.  I suspect that part of the difficulty is that we are inundated with terrible news from around our world on a seemingly continual basis.  Fatigue from tragedy is a real thing, and there is undoubtedly unspeakable tragedy in our world, paraded before us daily in our families, in our communities, and in our media as they tell us stories from around the world.  Unfortunately, grief is unavoidable, and the damage only compounds when we refuse to acknowledge the grief of others.

I may write more sometime about how I have worked to try and limit my exposure to tragedies in the broader world, but that’s not my main goal tonight.   My hope is that if we think carefully about what grief is, why we experience it, and the different ways it finds us, we may all find ways to be more sympathetic to the grief of others and maybe make our world a tiny bit better.  Beyond that, I’d like to remind the Christians who may encounter this that caring for the grieving is a good way to demonstrate the love of Jesus in a broken world.

I believe that grief is the natural human reaction to losing something that can’t be replaced in this life.  This definition has a few important aspects.  First, because it indicates that there is nothing unnatural about it.  Second, because it is honest about the fact that grief always springs from loss.  Also, I think it limits grief helpfully only to that which cannot be replaced.  Finally, it limits the scope to this life only.  I do not believe that grief exists beyond this life, at least not as we know it here.  I’m persuaded that no matter what one believes about the afterlife, grief as we now experience it in this world is probably not a part of it.  It is an experience that is narrowly bound to life on this earth in the lifetime we have.

I also think that grief is neither rational or irrational—I think it is arational or prerational.  We don’t have to think about grief, I think it is a reflexive behavior that springs from the way we are designed to relate to our world.  I also don’t believe it is primarily emotional in itself, though it undoubtedly stirs up emotions in those who experience it.  If it isn’t too much, I think grief is analogous to an accidental amputation—undoubtedly those who have lost a limb in an accident have emotion around the event and after it, but the physical reaction to the amputation is itself not purely rational or emotional—it is reflexive, untrained, and instinctive.  Similarly, I think we are wired to react to loss in a reflexive, untrained, and instinctive way.

There may be more, but I think there are at least three categories of grief.  A person grieving from a loss may experience one or more categories from the same event, but I think it’s helpful to lay them out, because they are all subtly different.

Category One: Interpersonal Grief (“…they’re gone…”, “…that relationship is over…”)

This most obvious type of grief is specifically related to relational losses, either by death, separation, abuse/violation, betrayal, or some combination thereof.  Someone who was an important part of our life (either positively or negatively) is no longer a part of it, or has done some very specific relational action that effectively ends the type of relationship you have had with them.  How profound the grief is in this category is likely related to the level of emotional investment the grieving person has had with the person they have lost, and might be further influenced by the relative shock of the loss.  If you lose someone very close to you suddenly, your grief will be different than losing someone further from your immediate sphere slowly.  Both can trigger grief, but that grief can look very, very different.  The proximity of the relationship usually informs the intensity of the grief.

Examples: the family at a funeral or memorial service for a loved one, divorce or other unfulfilled relationships where the duration and depth of the love relationship creates significant life change, the abused person who has fled their abuser at great personal risk and cost, a person feeling alone because they have been betrayed by someone close to them, etc.

At this point it is important to make a necessary departure from our categories to make a point.  No two griefs are the same: they can be related, but are always distinct.  Even people who are grieving the same person who have similar relationships with the person they have lost will necessarily handle it differently because they are unique individuals who had a unique relationship with the one who is no longer there.  It is therefore often exceedingly unhelpful to compare griefs. The grief of one person and the grief of another are as individual as our own personalities, experiences, giftings, passions and imperfections.  There is no sufficient way to equate grief between individuals.

Category Two: Ideological/Existential Grief (“…I can never believe that again…”, “…the future I hoped for will never come to pass…”)

In some ways this type of grief is easy to overlook, but anyone who has struggled with a death of a hope, their faith, a love, their aspirations, or their dream of a possible future will tell you it can be every bit as potent as the grief described above in category one.  In fact, this type may be in some ways more difficult to process for the one grieving it precisely because it is so intangible, while losing a personal relationship is in many ways immediate and real.  Humans are creatures of beliefs, morals and convictions and we craft those ideological systems based on our experiences with the world.  To have one of the legs kicked out from under those systems can not only cause a feeling of loss, but also profound feelings of lostness, confusion, and overwhelmedness beyond the actual loss itself in a way that can echo into our futures.  The loss of a potential future hoped for is as potent as the loss of a person in some instances, as though a person is watching a part of themselves perish and are trying to figure out how to move forward in this new and incomplete state.

Examples: individuals who are forced to give up on a life-long dream, individuals who lose religious faith because of the actions of a religious body or clerical figure, a couple grieving following a miscarriage (beyond the obvious category 1 grief of losing a child there is also the grief associated with what might have been for their little one), deeply partisan individuals following an election they find especially significant or crucial, etc.

Category Three: Referential/Symbolic Grief (“…I have lost a significant symbol…”)

The final category is the one most likely to generate opposing views, I suspect.  It refers to the loss of physical items in our world (items, buildings, etc) which have a referent for us that is deeply personally important.  In this type, we can feel a generalized or specific sense of loss about the physical destruction of an item which was aesthetically beautiful, sentimental, or nostalgic to us.  While it would be easy to dismiss this type of grief as secondary or unimportant, I do not think it wise for us to dispense with it. Many of our memories are tied to important places, items, songs, etc, and the loss of these things can cause us to lose track of our own memories or our sense of wonder at the surrounding world.  Especially in cases where we have already experienced grief in one of the previous categories, the loss of the referents for our memories around those experiences and individuals can retrigger the grief of that previous loss as well.

Examples: individuals reacting emotionally to the loss of works of art, or the death of an artist whose work deeply impacted them even though they didn’t know the artist personally, individuals who have lost or broken family heirlooms or symbolic tokens, etc.

If those categories make sense, the question left to us is how we show kindness and love to those who are struggling with grief.

It seems to me that grief comes in waves.  We do not choose to have a wave of grief roll on us, but as we process our loss, triggers can cause us to deal with grief.  Often, these waves are frequent around the initial experience of loss and become more infrequent with time, though they do not always diminish in their intensity even if they become less frequent.  Real loss is irrevocable, and any time we encounter something which aggravates the awareness of that loss, grief is likely to follow.  The analogy to waves also leads us to avoid an unhealthy conclusion some people come to about their grief or the grief of others: that simply pretending it isn’t there is healthy or can annihilate its existence.  There is increasing evidence that bottling grief is deeply unhealthy, both for the individual and our society.

For this reason, the reaction of caring people, and especially those who claim the name of Jesus Christ, is exceedingly important.  There is enormous cost for failing to grieve with those who grieve (Romans 12:15).  Beyond that failure, minimizing the grief of others is even more egregious if what I have said above is true and grief is intensely personal and unique, as it communicates that you don’t value the person or their experience.  It may also communicate (whether you intend it or not) that you do not value the humanity that Jesus came and died for.  Minimizing the grief of others also, somewhat ironically, can actually multiply negative emotion and create resentment, anger, and bitterness.

The example of Jesus in the instance of the death and resurrection of Lazarus as described in John 11 is instructive in this sense.  In the story, Jesus is aware that Lazarus has died (v.11-14), but intends from the beginning to raise him from the dead (v.4).  Nevertheless, when Jesus arrives to meet with Lazarus’ sisters, he is moved to tears when he observes Lazarus’s dead body.  Apparently, Jesus’ reaction was big enough to this that it caused the religious officials watching it to remark about the depth of his love (v.36)  The Scripture reports that Jesus was deeply moved by his interaction with Mary and Martha (v.33), as well. If the Lord of Life, who raises the dead, was compassionate for those who grieved, even as he knew that in a few short moments he would resurrect the one for whom they grieved, how much more should we?

As you seek to care for those who are grieving, I have a couple of tips for you in closing.

• First, often the most important thing you can do for someone grieving is be present in a supportive way. If you can be present for someone in their grief, you communicate that you have not fled from them and they are not alone.   It may also help to feel that God has not also abandoned them.
• Second, do not feel the need to explain everything or give reasons for why this thing causing their grief has happened. The chances are excellent that you don’t know!
• Third, do not minimize their grief! You don’t know what they are going through—this is unique to them!
• Fourth, resist the temptation to push them through the grief. Let them pace the process themselves.
• Fifth, if it is appropriate, you can help to distract them in bursts to give them breaths of air between the waves of grief. You don’t need to be an entertainer, but point gently to encouraging, good, or amusing things if you can find any.  It will help keep everyone tethered to the reality of life beyond the grief.
• Sixth, physical needs like food can go a long way to helping those who grieve. Think about some basic need you can aid in providing as you go to be with those who grieve.  It is an important part of your care.
• Seventh, don’t fear silence. Fill it with your silent prayers, or with careful, quiet attending to the person or people you are grieving with.  Make eye contact and appropriate affirming physical contact (hold a hand, give a hug, etc.) !
• Finally, don’t make it about you. You are there for them, and if all you do is talk about you, you may pull the person out of a healthy grieving process so they can care for you.  That’s deeply unkind!

We can make a powerful impact in our world by handling our own grief bravely and well, and then aiding others in their grief, especially as our world’s tragedies become increasing apparent.  I pray you will do the Kingdom work of caring for those who are heartbroken in a way consistent with Jesus, and by the power of His Spirit.