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Thanks to those of you who have commented - I appreciate your responses. I know it sounds obvious, but I want to start by simply noting that grief is an appropriate response to much of life in a fallen world. I feel compelled to start here because there seems to be an undercurrent in the Christian community that real grief - the kind that isn't to be expressed in polite company - is somehow a demonstration of a lack of faith in God's goodness or his purposes. I received an email recently that began, "There are worse things than having a downs syndrome baby...." And yep, they're right. But dang, do you lead off by telling a woman who's been raped that there are worse things that could have happened? Or by telling a cancer patient that at least they don't have heart disease? Why lead with that? Especially when this person has two perfectly healthy children... I shared the news of our baby boy with our church two weeks after my wife and I found out. I chose to share it with them so soon for several reasons. The primary one was that I was still upset/disappointed and hurting. I didn't want to wait until this story became a story with a happy ending (though I have no doubt it will) b/c those seem to be the only stories we tell in churches...I wanted to let people in to our not-quite-yet worked out processing of this. I don't know if that was a good move or not; but among the many different kinds of responses I received one stood out. There were people in our church who were upset with me for being upset about this. I was shocked. I'm not sure what these folks were thinking, but the assumption seemed to be that my grief was somehow an indictment of the hope and power of the gospel. To that I say, "rubbish!" Grief can often be an expression of faith. Don't these people read the Psalms? Lamentations? Jeremiah? Jesus himself wept over the reality of death and suffering. The writer of Ecclesiastes observes, "...there is a time to weep and a time to laugh..."(3:4) and Paul, in 1 Thes. 4:13 writes, "Brothers, we do not want you to...grieve like the rest of men, who have no hope." Much more could be said, but I contend that grief is often the only appropriate response by the people of God. After all, doesn't grieving presuppose the idea that things should be different? That somehow, women shouldn't be raped and disease shouldn't rob us of those we love and that babies shouldn't be born with defects. Grief, then, is often proof of faith. As we pour out our longing for things to be different we are led again and again back to the man from Nazareth who promised that one day, things would be put right.
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Comments
I'm with you man. thanks for bringing up an important conversation and truth that unfortunately not too many churches are willing to talk about.
Mike,
First, I'm so sorry for the insensitivity that many of God's people show. I'm sure you know this (heh, offering you wisdom is intimidating!) but they are most likely just misguided and simply want to offer you the "bright side". Forgive 'em.
Second, I love the logic, here. I haven't put much thought into this until now, but it makes perfect sense. Were it not for grief, what reason would there really be to do anything about the injustice in our world? Further, what would be the hope of the coming kingdom if there is nothing in the present to grieve over?
I'm actually surprised by the apparent double standards, I mean, is it because the baby is still in the womb that many think there is nothing to grieve over? Would they feel the same way if the child had been born and experienced some sort of trauma that altered the child's mental capacity?
Why should we not grieve the effects of sin that pervades the entire natural order?
Gah!
It is often appropriate to have tears here. It is only in heaven that God will wipe away every tear. We have pain here. It is only there that "death shall be no more, neither shall there be mourning nor crying nor pain any more, for the former things have passed away."
This logically implies that here we have pain and death, mourning (grief) and crying. Yet we are also called to rejoice. In Philippians Paul repeatedly calls us to rejoice, "and again I will say, Rejoice," from his prison cell, from an imprisonment that led to his death.
The co-existence of grief and joy are a natural experience in the Christian life. Sometimes all we can do is weep on the Master's shoulder, but joyful that He cares and holds us up.
doc
Hey Mike,
This is a great example of what I've admired and appreciated of you as a man and a pastor. You show great integrity and love for your people by living and teaching in a way that is open, honest, and authentic.
I read somewhere that one of the greatest duties of a pastor is to prepare his people to die. A part of that preparation is teaching them how to live with joy AND grief because of the hope they have in Jesus. I look forward to seeing and hearing how all of this plays out in your roles as a Christian, husband, and pastor.
Nick
I'm so sorry that people are shaming you for grieving this. I fear that often our Christian culture just doesn't want to look at people who are going through crap. We often felt that way during Mark's accident, and during our string of miscarriages. We almost got the impression that people wanted us to go into hiding until we were ready to say "Everything's great! We understand God's plan, and we're actually thankful it all happened." Well, that's not always real life. Sometimes, there is pain that overwhelms.
I am SO glad you are choosing to share in the midst of your grief, and not once you've got it all packaged with a pretty bow. What a model you are giving us as a church.
Kristen
Mike,
Recently, we found out that our daughter has a progressive disease that may or not take her life anywhere from tonight's fever to twenty years from now. We have no time line with her for her future, we just have today. Each night when we put her to bed, I lay awake wondering if her blood sugar will dip so low this time that we'll find her too late in the morning. It's happened 20 or so times in her young four years and I find myself just waiting....
The grief is very, very real and I'm beginning to believe it's a gift in ways I hadn't imagined when I first started on this journey. I'm not saying you should see this as a gift, it's just the place I'm in now with my grief. I'm not sure I'm grateful for it yet, but I am grateful for the things I am learning about my God and my faith through this new chapter.
I was recently told to read A Grief Observed by C.S. Lewis and When God Weeps by Joni Eaerkson Tada - not to tell you to read them, but they have both been very good books that I'm still processing. Also, I came here this morning to leave you a note after reading another post. Nicol and Greg Sponberg (Nicol is/was in the group Selah) recently lost their 3 month old son to SIDS. Greg has been writing on occasion about his journey through this grief and pain. Today he posted something that has been settling deep in me the past few weeks and thought you'd appreciate it as well:
http://thelukesponbergfoundation.blogspot.com/2008/12/connecting-dots.ht...
As an regular attender of Rock Harbor about six years ago before we moved out of state, you, your family and the family at Rock Harbor still mean a great deal to me and my family. Your grief is our grief. I'll be praying for your times of joy and your times of grief as each ebb and flow in your life. May God bless you richly in each of those times with His love and grace.
Thanks for sharing Mike. Someday I'd love to hear your theory as to why only nice, pretty and clean stories are shared in church. The church seems to have lost its way, and your insider thoughts would just be cool. See ya!
Mike,
Thanks for sharing the wisdom you have gained from allowing God's word to run through your own life. I cannot imagine the aches that your and Justina's hearts have been going through - but may I commend you for being honest about how hard the journey is sometimes...and that it is okay to say and feel that. I know that I have felt the pressure to suppress grief and pain in the church and when God exposed the freedom of being real in community with others, He did something incredible with that.
I go to Rock Harbor and want to thank you for allowing God to use you to teach us in ways far beyond what you know. You stand humbly in front of us and share the cries of your heart. You preach without words and we are all reminded of our own brokenness and need for the One who can give hope in the midst of pain.
We all love you and your family and will continue to pray over your household. Thanks again for sharing your lives with us so openly and courageously allowing God to use you guys to open our eyes to God's compassion and love and our call to extend that to others in places of need.
I just happened to come across your blog and read through a few of your entries. I don't know if you'll see this comment more than a year after writing this blog entry, but I had to say that you are so on-target about what Christians believe today about suffering and grief, and I don't understand how we ended up with those wrong suppositions. The Bible is full of suffering and grief (as well as joy and victory). God gave us our human emotions and understands us; our High Priest, our Lord, is interceding for us with true understanding because of His own experiences of suffering while on earth.
Our son was seriously, permanently injured and nearly killed in a traumatic freak accident a few years ago that was no one's fault; our family has had to deal with the aftermath of his injuries and will for the rest of our lives. I was shocked by the number of times we have been rebuked by Christians for grieving over the suffering our son and we have endured, and grieving for what our son and and we have lost. Among many other things, we have been told we need to be positive (as if we weren't doing so already). One of my responses has been exactly the same as yours, right down to the specific examples. Even though our son's permanent condition could have turned out to be worse, it doesn't mean that what happened wasn't tragic and painful. We have tried to find joy in everyday life, to give thanks to God in the midst of everything, and to move forward. But as someone once said to me, joy can and does co-exist with grief. For a while, I felt guilty that I was still grieving even though our son had survived, because I felt that my grief meant that he wasn't "good enough" in his condition. But then I read this definition by Steven Levine: "Loss is the absence of something we were once attached to, and grief is the rope burns left behind." That helped me so much: it was not wrong to have loved my son when he was healthy and whole and coming into his manhood, and it was natural for me to feel grief over not only his suffering and losses, but mine as well.
It was not wrong for you and your wife to have looked forward to your baby and to have already begun to love him the way you thought he would be. After he was born, I'm sure you have fallen in love with him the way he is and marvel at his perfection. But even now, I would imagine that you have still had to come to terms with some sorrowful things, which someone without a partially disabled child cannot comprehend.