Guest Post: When Words Don’t Heal by Mary Ellen Dirkson

“What you’re going through is hard.”

Six simple words I never heard.

In my heart, I begged for somebody to acknowledge the loss.

Out loud, I told people close to me, again and again, that I didn’t want to be cheered up.

"Just see me in pain and not make it about you!" I wanted to scream.

But they couldn’t seem to hear me, and didn’t say the words I needed to hear.

~~~

 We hear a lot of advice when a loved one dies.

“God needed another angel.”

“There is a reason for everything.”

The answers likely bring comfort to the person speaking them.

But to the person in pain, such simplistic answers seem to say, “Your grief is too big. Cut the feelings down to size, if you would. Your grief is unsettling to me."

Any answer, short of comfort and acknowledgement of the pain, can feel like a slap in the face.

~~

But let me confess.

Two weeks ago, I spoke some hard words to someone who grieves.

As I write this, I smell the reek of hypocrisy.

We all are in need grace, in some way, shape or form.

~~~

The oldest Biblical narrative—in fact, one of the oldest stories of all mankind—is the story of Job, a man whose fortune and family were taken from him all within a few swift days.

For chapter after chapter in the book of Job, the woeful man sits in mourning, covered with boils, lamenting his loss.

While in the depths of his pain, he is—this rings familiar—forced to entertain friends who offered advice on all the reasons why Job was suffering.

Job told them he wanted to die.

He said, flat-out, he wished he’d never been born.

His own wife agreed it would be better had he not lived at all.

But nobody offered comfort.

Nobody sat alongside him, holding his hand, and told him the simple facts, “Job, what you’re suffering is awful. I can’t imagine how hard it must be to carry this pain.”

 ~~

People struggle to acknowledge that evil and pain exists. Do they worry the evil and pain wins if one looks it in the face?

Do we try to will the suffering away or wax or wash it prettier with words?

In the depths of my suffering, I opened my Bible to Job. 

In Job’s words, I found comfort.

In his senseless, confused misery, I felt my shame lift.

Sometimes we suffer without any seeming purpose.

Sometimes we see no reason at all.

Sometimes God puts us through testing and the testing is very, very hard.

Anyone who tries to tell you different? 

Well, let’s read what God says to them: The Lord ...said to [Job’s friends], “I am angry with you and your two friends, because you have not spoken the truth about me, as my servant Job has.  So now take seven bulls and seven rams and go to my servant Job and sacrifice a burnt offering for yourselves. My servant Job will pray for you, and I will accept his prayer and not deal with you according to your folly. You have not spoken the truth about me, as my servant Job has.”  So Eliphaz the Temanite, Bildad the Shuhite and Zophar the Naamathite did what the Lord told them; and the Lord accepted Job’s prayer. After Job had prayed for his friends, the Lord restored his fortunes and gave him twice as much as he had before. Job 42:7-10.

~~~

 

Job is the oldest story in the Bible.

The same story is still played out today.

My prayer is, in the same way God spoke to Job’s friends, they’ll recognize they need to come back to you and make things right.

And for you, regardless of whether they ever understand the impact of their words, I pray you find the power to forgive them.

~~~

Losing a sibling is hard. 

We wish we could have saved them. 

We could not. 

We are sometimes powerless over things. 

We are human. 

This is okay. 

So many of us stand guard over their graves fiercely protective of their memory and legacy. 

It’s tempting to stay there forever, in this fierce way. 

But I’ve asked myself lately, “What would Rob want for me?”

I have chosen to let go of the shame and feelings of powerlessness. 

I’ve chosen to accept it is hard and let myself grieve.

And having made space for pain, I find instead an ease—an ability to accept the simple gift of being alive.

The world is full of wonder and curiosity.

I will go explore it and live my best life.

I do this to honor my brother Rob, whom I loved very much, and whom I know loves me.