Calm and Patient Expectations

An Invitation to Rest

“I’m here to offer my condolences and support, and to walk you through some next steps.”

I’ve said those words, or something similar, countless times in the last year as I’ve met with families after their loved ones died. And the most common response I hear is, “Good. Because I don’t even know where to start.”

That is one of the great honors and privileges I have as a chaplain. I get to step into those difficult, yet sacred spaces… to come alongside people and offer at least a first step as a means of comfort in their loss. But nothing I (or anyone else for that matter) can say or do in a time like that will make everything better… or will make their grief just go away. Because it doesn’t. In fact, we never get over our grief… it never fully goes away, because that’s not how it works. We don’t suddenly wake up one morning and stop longing for the ones we love who have died. Grief is a burden that stays with us. I’d be lying if I said it ever fully goes away.

C.S. Lewis once wrote,
'“For the greater the love the greater the grief.”

That rings so true. It is why sometimes, even years later, a song on the radio, the smell of food wafting from the kitchen, a commercial on TV, or even just a passing thought will trigger a response in a way that brings our heaviest emotions to the surface. When we love deeply, even the most well-seasoned grief can return to the surface and feel as painful as it did when it first emerged.

Our grief is a natural and necessary expression of love. That’s why in my faith tradition we point to scriptures like this one:

1 Thessalonians 4:13-14
13 But we do not want you to be uninformed, brothers and sisters, about those who have died, so that you may not grieve as others do who have no hope. 14 For since we believe that Jesus died and rose again, even so, through Jesus, God will bring with him those who have died.

We point to scriptures like this, NOT as an instruction to abandon, bury, or hide from our grief as if it is something to run from or be ashamed of. Instead, we point to this as an invitation to sustain hope even as we grieve. We point to it as a reminder that death does not have the final word. We continue to grieve. We unapologetically travel with all the emotional ups and downs of our grief. And, we listen for (and hear) the invitation from Jesus to come close in our grief. Like in:

Matthew 11:28
28 Come to me, all you that are weary and are carrying heavy burdens, and I will give you rest.

Often I think the scriptures are as instructive in what they DON’T say as much as in what they do.

Notice that Jesus does NOT say,
“Don’t be weary.”

Jesus does NOT say,
“Those heavy burdens you are carrying aren’t heavy at all. Just get over it!”

Instead, he acknowledges what is true.
We ARE weary.
We ARE carrying heavy burdens.

Jesus acknowledges that. And instead of invalidating our feelings and experience and hurt and trauma and pain and grief… instead of patronizing us with pithy words or sayings… Jesus sees and acknowledges that which we are feeling and carrying.
And Jesus invites us to come close.
Jesus invites us into the gift of REST in him.

And while I fully recognize the value of a good night’s sleep or a hearty nap, the kind of rest Jesus is talking about here is far more significant than a little shuteye with pleasant dreams.

The biblical word for rest means something more like calm and patient expectation.

I imagine in a time of loss and grief… especially when it is fresh and near the surface… calm and patient are not how many people would self-describe. And I imagine the only expectation that many people have is that the days and weeks and months and moments and even breaths ahead would be impossibly hard. Yet, right smack dab in the middle of the most difficult experiences Jesus invites us to come close so we can be aware of the presence of God… the one who is the author of peace. The one who speaks peace to the wind and the waves of even the mightiest storms. The one to whom those same wind and waves listen and obey. The one who by God’s very presence with us helps us to come to a place where pain and grief and loss and hope and healing and even peace can exist simultaneously.

No, rest is not simply the absence of being tired or weary just as peace is not simply the absence of conflict. In our grief,
We ARE tired.
We ARE weary.
There IS conflict in us and around us.

AND, simultaneously, the rest Jesus invites into is the calm and patient expectation we can know that emboldens us to cling to the hope that our present pain is not eternal.
Our present grief is not all we will ever know.
Our present pain and our present grief are NOT how things WILL one day be.

Again, from the scriptures of my faith tradition Revelation 21 says,

1 Then I saw a new heaven and a new earth; for the first heaven and the first earth had passed away, and the sea was no more. 2 And I saw the holy city, the new Jerusalem, coming down out of heaven from God, prepared as a bride adorned for her husband. 3 And I heard a loud voice from the throne saying, “See, the home of God is among mortals. He will dwell with them as their God; they will be his people, and God himself will be with them; 4 He will wipe every tear from their eyes. Death will be no more; mourning and crying and pain will be no more, for the first things have passed away.”

If there is truth in these words proclaimed to point to the one in which we place our faith… those who weep now will not weep later. In this new heaven and a new earth, there will one day be no more need for tears. Because, as I have boldly proclaimed at every funeral at which I’ve ever presided… and in every prayer I’ve prayed at the bedside with families after their loved one has just died, these words from Romans 6:5 ring loud and true:

For if we have been united with him in a death like his, we will certainly be united with him in a resurrection like his.

And then as the writer of Revelation continues,

5 And the one who was seated on the throne said, “See, I am making all things new.” Also, he said, “Write this, for these words are trustworthy and true.”

Another way I’ve heard this expressed is: "Everything sad will become untrue.”

But until that day comes, may we find rest.
May we wait in calm and patient expectation for the day when the hope and promise of these trustworthy and true words become our present reality. May we find comfort and shelter in the Christ who lives in you and me and in one another… assuring us that we are not alone as we walk with our grief until everything sad becomes untrue.

It is my honor as a chaplain to walk alongside people even in the small ways I am able. As you grieve, I pray that you may find comfort and strength, provision and protection, grace and peace in God who loves you beyond measure.

Peace be with you.

*This piece was originally written for and shared at the 2022 Parkview Health System Annual Memorial Service.