When I was a young girl, I learned a song that said, “Make new friends, but keep the old.” When I grew a little older, I fell in love with the Michael W. Smith song that said, “Friends are friends forever if the Lord’s the Lord of them.” I sang both of those songs with my whole heart – and I believed them with that whole heart too.

I’m a collector and a keeper and a stay-in-touch-at-all-costs person. I’ve rarely chosen to end a friendship, even to my own detriment at times, preferring instead to hold on like Wilson Phillips taught us.

But it turns out some friends aren’t forever. And some journeys or relationships or connections eventually come to an end.

This is a lesson I’ve unhappily learned many times over the past few decades, and it’s one that’s smacked me in the face – multiple times! – this month.

Last week I experienced two significant losses. One a person and one a thing – though a vitally important-to-me thing. Neither was an actual death, though to be honest, I feel nearly as sad as if it were. Goodbyes and endings can be devastating.

And to top it all off, I was reminded of a dear friendship that had faded away despite years of BFFNRFIP (best friends forever, no really, forever, I promise) vibes. It was a rough week!

Like many losses, these recent situations have brought with them the added layer of being difficult to describe. Life is complicated, and people don’t always understand what we’re going through. They mean well, though. I know they do, and I try to assume the best intentions of even the most careless comments.

But when we experience a loss, and those around us disregard or try to rewrite our grief – even when they’re simply trying to make us feel better – it hurts. It can even make us feel worse! I’ve found that even the most well-intended offerings of “everything works out for the best” and “you’ll be stronger in the end” actually amplify my pain by not allowing it space to breathe.

Do I understand the reason a person had to leave? Yes.

Can I comprehend the reason a thing is coming to an end? Yes.

Do I see why these things had to happen now, one suddenly and one after a long road of warning and waiting? Yes, that too.

And do I still believe that God wants the best for me and is with me and is in control, even in all this? Yes, yes, yes.

But am I also really, really sad?

YES!

And therein lies the complicated reality of loss. More than one thing can be true at the same time. I can understand what’s happened and why it’s happened and still be sad. I can be completely confused about those things, but still trust God and His good plans, and still be sad. I can see why a move or change or decision needed to be made and still be sad. I can hold onto the good memories and be grateful for all that came before and still be sad! I can believe without a doubt that we will all eventually be fine and still be sad!

Jesus understands all of this.

When He arrived in the village of Bethany, where His good friends lived, Jesus was visibly grieved by the fact that one of those friends (Lazarus) had died. Even though He already knew it had happened and even though He also knew He was going to call Lazarus back from death in just a few minutes, He was sad.

Jesus could see and understand every angle of this situation. He knew the future and the reasons. He was confident in what His Father was about to do and how it would affect everyone involved, physically and emotionally.

And yet, when Jesus saw His friends grieving, He cried.

When Jesus faced the injustice of death and the depth of emotions felt by Lazarus’s family and friends, He cried.

When Jesus walked through that village and realized how little His followers understood about Him and His promises, He cried.

Jesus wept that day, because we can be deeply distressed even when we understand all the things. Jesus wept, because it’s possible to have faith and hope AND grief and anger. Jesus wept, because sometimes this world is too much to bear.

Jesus wept – and it’s okay if we do too.

Cling to this:

“Jesus wept.”
John 11:35

“The Lord is close to the brokenhearted.”
Psalm 34:18

I suspect I’m not the only one facing a loss this season. If that’s you, I want you to know that it’s okay to be sad.

Whether it’s something that’s just happened or an old scar that still stings, it’s okay to feel the pain. Whether a change or a loss was sudden or something you’d been warned was coming, it’s okay to grieve. Whether you’re missing a person or a thing, a place or a situation, it’s okay to be sad.

If you’re sad this season, I pray you create and protect space for yourself to feel your feelings, to experience the grief, to let it all out, and lean on the God who knows grief well.

 

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