BLESSED ARE THOSE WHO MOURN

Andrea Tarbay, Communications Director

Grief is a funny thing. Yet, rarely does it give birth to laughter. It runs deep, expressing itself differently in each of us, yet it is something every one of us will experience at different points in life. Filled with complexities, grief carries many emotions and exposes our own fragility. It can be overwhelming, the weight of a broken heart is heavy with pain, leaving us feeling unshielded and raw. Sometimes even the smallest moments sting like salt in an open cut wound.

Matthew 5:4 says, “Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted.”

I believe the Lord says this because it takes courage to grieve. Suffering is uncomfortable. It reminds us of our inability to control outcomes and, at times, confronts us with our own shortcomings, vices, and the ways we have not loved God or others well.

I've learned that our natural instinct, when faced with emotions too great to comprehend, is to run, distract ourselves, or hide. We convince ourselves we're okay. We stay busy to prove we can function, as though we are unaffected by something as seemingly frivolous as emotion. We hide behind carefully crafted facades, hoping to appear whole and beautiful when inside we feel anything but.

Yet refusing to run from our grief takes courage. It requires honesty and humility. Choosing to walk through sorrow with Jesus Christ means coming face to face with what has deeply wounded us instead of looking away. It is the difficult and vulnerable work of bringing our pain before Him, learning to surrender what is too heavy to carry on our own.

If you find yourself here, I am deeply sorry. There are few things that compare to the pain of grief.

Yet I hope this truth brings comfort to your soul: you are not walking through it alone.

Maybe you feel as though you are walking through the valley of the shadow of death. Maybe you are carrying the weight of a failure that feels beyond redemption, grieving the loss of someone you deeply loved, or facing death itself. The darkness can feel overbearing.

What amazes me is that God promises His nearness in our grief. He is "close to the brokenhearted" (Psalm 34:18). He records our tears in His bottle (Psalm 56:8). And through suffering, He invites us to know the love of the One who is "a man of sorrows, acquainted with deepest grief" (Isaiah 53:3). Jesus is no stranger to suffering. He understands every sorrow we carry because He has entered into suffering Himself. And in His own resurrected body He’s chosen to keep the scars to prove it.

I deeply wish that loving God and loving people were always easy, that life unfolded the way we hoped and prayers were answered exactly as we imagined. However, as we trust in Him, we grip tightly to the promise that one day Christ will wipe away every tear and we will dwell with Him forever, free from pain, sorrow, and death, living by the power of His love alone.

Until that day, I believe our calling is to know Jesus Christ, to walk intimately with Him, and to be sanctified as we await His return. On this side of heaven, that journey often means being brought through death into life.

I've learned that the very things that break us can become the places where we come to know Christ more deeply than we ever could have otherwise. In our weakness, we discover the depth of His love, so that our hearts can sincerely cry out the words of Psalm 73:25:

"Whom have I in heaven but You? And earth has nothing I desire besides You."

To be satisfied in Christ alone. To share in His sufferings and, one day, to share fully in His joy.

So let us remember that, by His abundant grace, God lavishes His love upon us. As we walk with Him through every joy, sorrow, question, and complexity of this life, He remains faithful. And even in our mourning, He calls us blessed.