Let us run with endurance the race that is set before us, looking to Jesus, the founder and perfecter of our faith. Many a parent or marriage partner has cried to the heavens, saying, Why God? Why me?
Why us? The finality of death is in bold relief as you look into a casket. Life is all too short, and we need help navigating these raging waters when our turn comes to console others. Today, more about finding purpose in grief and loneliness. From the Moody Church in Chicago, this is Running to Win with Dr. Erwin Lutzer, whose clear teaching helps us make it across the finish line. Pastor Lutzer, it's very difficult to know what to say to someone awash in the tears of grief.
How do you handle this delicate task? Dave, your question reminds me of when I was a very young pastor, as a matter of fact, it was in my first pastorate in a small church in the Chicago area, when I had to perform a funeral for a young woman. Specifically, she'd been riding a bicycle, fell off, and died. To this day, no one knows exactly the cause of her death, but I remember ministering to her parents. Rebecca and I went to them, and we sat there, and we just listened. We sorrowed with them, and I'm sure that I said a few words and prayed, but I remember years later, they thanked us over and over again for being with them during that time of their grief. Now here's the question, what did we say?
It was not what we said, it was that we listened and we mourned with them, and maybe that's the best we can do in times of tragedy. We're making the message that you are listening to available to you for a gift of any amount. At the end of this broadcast, I'll be giving you some contact info.
For now, you stay tuned. Now what I'd like to do is to leave with you and share with you my friend Paul. Paul's wife died nine months ago, nine or ten months ago, and he's been emailing me, and he's given me permission to share with you some of his emails. It's the story of grief, and you're going to be greatly helped by the way in which he defines it, how he describes it, and then we're going to go to the Bible, and we're going to really find that there is hope. Now Paul's wife died, his wife's name was Kathy. He said it was about 20 months ago that her doctor took me aside and informed me that we should make the most of the upcoming year as she wouldn't make it to Christmas, and to treasure each moment knowing that every special thing we did would be the last time. And instead of allowing sadness to overrule, I should count it a blessing because many people don't get the opportunity of sharing life together before life comes to the end.
So he took his advice. Shortly after in early January, by the way, she did make it to Christmas, but shortly after in January, her body began to fail. She passed away at home on March 14th. Just as she took her last breath, the large digital clock on her nightstand flipped to 828. As I was holding Kathy and felt her soul depart, my daughter Stephanie said, Dad, look. Look at the clock.
It's reading 828, Romans 828. It's going to be all right. God is with us. Mom is safely home with the Lord. No more cancer. No more MS. He continues, he says, Life is not my friend, but it's also not my enemy anymore.
At first it was. When it paid a visit, I knew exactly where it would strike and what to expect. But I no longer run from it and I've begun to make my peace with it. Instead of running away from it, I've learned to seize the intensities of each visit as an opportunity to intensely thank God for the wonderful gift of Kathy that he has given to me. While Kathy and I spent a year together doing last times, I hadn't considered that I would spend this next year doing first times. These are the same things that we used to do together, but now I do them alone.
There are many of them because we've spent our entire life having lived where we were born. I shared with my children how difficult it is every day. And right now, even as I'm constantly having to decide what to do with mom's personal things, simple things like taking down the Christmas tree.
I'm feeling a little foolish too as I brought some of the grief on myself. I made some memorial ornaments for my children that had a picture of Kathy on them and I hung them on my own tree so that her memory could be present with us as we let the grandkids open their gifts. I didn't think about the fact that I would have to take the tree down and then I'd have to decide again what to do with another ornament that I had to do with her.
He continues and says, her voice is still on the phone recorder. My children don't want me to remove it, so I don't, but it's hard for me to check messages and listen to her greeting. Now listen carefully, but I think the school of sorrow has three rooms, not two. The first two are grief and loneliness and they are very easy to find, but the third is a well concealed bunker.
I've only recently discovered the third one. I never knew that it was there, grief and then loneliness and then I found a lower room, the bunker. Yes, there's a trap door in the room of loneliness. It was underneath the floorboards below the room where loneliness dwells was a hidden room that was stocked full of supplies, enough supplies for someone to hide for a very long time. The first two rooms, grief and loneliness, you know, eventually they become tolerable because I know what to expect, but the bunker is the most fearful.
It feels too safe. It's a great hiding place and it's like a safe room. Now I have to tell you that Paul is a builder and so he has actually designed, he says, some bunkers, some real bunkers.
He says these are well stocked with supplies and access into them is bolted from the inside. In a similar way, I've been dealing with like I've been hanging out in a spiritual bunker for the last few months. It's the place I go to hide so that I will not be a burden on others. The bunker is hiding in plain sight when I go to church.
Some of the real bunkers that I've made are masterfully hidden, just so. In church I can sing and pray and fellowship with others. I can smile and joke and hang out and even go to dinner with friends afterwards and it feels good. I know that I have successfully concealed my grief, but no one knows the grief that is still in my heart. I don't even know if these feelings are a normal part, but you know, if someone asked to give me the name of my hidden bunker, I'd refer to it as the room where you are on your own hidden because you don't want to be with others who mean well but don't understand what you are going through. Some have tried to encourage me by reminding me that for the believer there is no sting in death, but I usually take that as code for Paul, get over it, move on. Well, I do intend to move on. I've been restructuring our business, finances and wills, but I struggle with why I would ever want to get over it. The fact that I had a best friend ever. All that to say I often hide how I'm really feeling, especially in church.
I do such a good job that nobody asks. I'm careful because I don't want to be a source of discomfort to others or drag anyone down. It feels better when I'm worshiping along with other people, but while I agree with my friends about how death has no sting, I feel that still has a mean left hook. I recently came to reckon with the fact that this journey will be very long and I'm on my own. I tend to want to go back to my bunker when my closest Christian friends imply things like, hey, Paul, this is your finest hour. Be an example of faith. Don't let us down. Don't let God down. Recently, I received an email from a leader in my church admonishing me that I seem to be self-absorbed and I'm never going to get over Kathy if I keep dwelling on her. He said, Paul, you know she's in heaven. That made me realize that people around me are sensing the kind of fatigue that comes when people who are grieving don't ever get over it as fast as they want them to.
That makes me withdraw. I wondered, how does a broken leg run? How does a broken wing fly? How can a broken heart beat strong?
How does a boat sail without wind? Oh, well, he's a trusted friend for sure and I know that his comments are well-intentioned, like some kind of tough love intending to wake me up. That's just the way he is. Maybe he's right too, but it offers little comfort. Ironically, he prefaced his comments by telling me how much he loved me.
I always fear when friends start out with, you know how much I love you because I know that what they are going to say is going to make me feel as if I'm not loved. And then he quoted the Psalms where God is close to the brokenhearted. I thought to myself, well, he must really be close to me. I guess he reported back that he had a great counseling session with me and I'm okay with that, but I retreat into my bunker. I often wonder how many grieving Christians can relate to what I'm saying.
I don't think I'll ever know because I never ask anyone. But I also wonder if someone else is hiding in their bunker, hiding their grief from me, and that makes me care. Well, I was listening to Joni Erikson Tada, and by the way, if you're not acquainted with her ministry, that's a great ministry. It's entitled Joni and Friends.
I encourage you to go to her website. But he says, I was listening to Joni Erikson Tada the other day and was surprised to hear that she was talking about this phenomenon, dwelling within the church. And as she was sharing about how inadequately equipped people are to be there and walk beside others who are experiencing tragic losses, the interviewer asked her what she thought the church should do, and she replied, learn. I liked that. It made me feel like maybe I wasn't in my bunker alone after all.
It also made me want to learn in my own schoolhouse so that I can help others who hurt in indescribable ways to climb out of the bunker, just like me. I want to say a word now as a pastor to those of you who have experienced grief and loneliness. Don't make quick decisions, especially remarriage.
Be very cautious. I know many instances where remarriage has brought about a great deal of happiness. In fact, maybe they were better marriages the second time than the first.
And don't feel guilty if you rejoice in that. But at the same time, I can tell you many stories of men particularly who married too quickly because they could not take the loneliness, and it ended badly. Someone who did remarry and has a happy marriage said this, and I'll never forget it. He said, when you remarry, it's not just stanza two of a hymn. You know, you've had stanza one and now you sing stanza two. He said, it's an entirely different song.
Well, I changed that a little bit and say that I know some instances where it wasn't just entirely a different song, but an entirely different hymnal. Be very careful. Marry in haste. Repent in leisure.
Take your time. Be wise. Get wisdom. And be careful. You may do the wrong thing. Lonely people sometimes make bad decisions. Now, I want to share with you that you do have hope because you have two resources. The first resource is God.
And I encourage you today as someone who is struggling with loneliness, if this is where you are at, unleash all of your struggles and your anger, your unanswered questions. Unleash it on God, if I might put it that way. I remember a woman, I told her, you know, be honest with God. And she said, oh, I can't tell God how I feel. I don't want him to know. I had to laugh. I mean, are you telling me that God doesn't know how you feel?
Tell him how you feel. Look at this. Asaph. When I meditate on God, I moan. When I meditate, my spirit faints. You hold my eyelids open. I am so troubled I cannot speak.
I consider the days of old, the years of long ago. I said, let me remember my song in the night. Let me meditate on my heart.
Then my spirit made a diligent search. But will the Lord spurn forever and never again be faithful? Has his steadfast love forever ceased? Are his promises at an end for all time? Has God forgotten to be gracious?
Has he in anger shut up his compassion? Do it reverently. Tell God exactly how you feel. By the way, that's Psalm 77, and it ends by a note of praise, because the psalmist goes on to say that he remembered what God did for Israel, and he believes in the faithfulness of God, and he's going to move beyond the present and accept God's comfort. But I do want to tell you that there is one Psalm, and only one, that ends without any hope and without any comfort. I want to read you the last verses, and thanks to my good friend Paul, I'm going to refer to this as the bunker Psalm.
This is how it ends. But I, O Lord, cry to you. In the morning my prayer goes up before you. O Lord, why do you cast out my soul, and why do you cast my soul away? Why do you hide your face from me, afflicted and close to death from my youth up? I suffer your terrors.
I am helpless. Your wrath has swept over me. Your dreadful assaults destroy me. They surround me like a flood all day long. They close in on me together. You have caused my beloved and my friend to shun me. My companions have become darkness. End of Psalm.
It's a man in the bunker. His friends have become darkness, and he feels under the wrath of God, and like my friend Paul, all alone. Why does the Psalm end this way? Well, many commentators, and I've read them, they say, well, you know, this is really a strange Psalm. It doesn't end with any hope in God, but there is faith throughout it. Yeah, there is some faith. I grant that, but the author, another son of Korah, stays in the bunker.
It's very interesting that there is one commentator who said this. He said, as you read these last few verses, you recognize that what you are reading is really what Jesus experienced. The terror of God, the wrath of God is referred to, the rejection of friends, all of his disciples forsook him and fled at the cross.
Of course, John did come back, but he felt alone. And then Jesus experienced darkness, great darkness, darkness that could be felt, the kind of darkness that was experienced in Egypt during the time of the plagues. And Jesus experienced all of this and the darkness so that you and I might come out of that bunker and we might be able to walk in light.
We don't have to stay there forever. By the way, well, might the sun and darkness hide and shut its glories in when Christ, the great Redeemer died for man, the creature sin. To those of you in the bunker, I want you to know that Jesus has been there. And he says, I endure the darkness that you might walk in light. There is hope on the other side, the acceptance and the glory of God. And will you remember this that feelings are not facts. You may feel as if God has forsaken you.
You may feel as if you're committed to the bunker and you must stay there. But those are lies. Jesus died so that we can have his light. The sun can shine again, as I mentioned to that woman that I referred to earlier. So there's one resource. Oh, by the way, just in case you're wondering, that Psalm is Psalm 88.
And Paul, thanks to you, I'm going to think of it as the song, the Psalm of the bunker. But there's another resource and that is other people. Where do you find people who do understand? People who won't judge you. People who appreciate the fact that grief is very lonely and very difficult.
Well, it's other people who are in the bunker. That's why I am so excited about the fact that there are many ministries out there helping people, primarily Grief Share Ministries. By the way, there is actually a ministry called Grief Share, great ministry. But there's also another one entitled Grief Care, Grief Care Fellowship. I hope that your local church has a ministry to those who grieve. And there are resources there. Let me mention again Grief Care Fellowship.
And I mention that because the folks who started it are actually friends of mine. There was a widower, they married, they married happily, but they understand grief and they have many resources. Let me mention it again. Grief Care Ministries.
Check it out. Receive help. There are people out there who understand you, who'll stand with you. I walked a mile with pleasure. She chatted all the way. But left me none the wiser for all she had to say. I walked a mile with sorrow and ne'er a word said she.
But oh, the things I learned when sorrow walked with me. In the Garden of Gethsemane, Jesus didn't ask his three disciples, the ones to whom he was the closest, he didn't ask them to pray with him, though he may have mentioned that. But why did he say, be with me?
You see, he could have said, well, you can just stay 200 yards away and pray for me. He wanted to be with them in his moment of sorrow. I hope that there are people who are walking with you in your moment of sorrow and remember this that the suffering of this present world cannot be compared to the glory that shall be revealed in us. It will be worth it all when we see Jesus and the promise is that your sorrow shall be turned into joy. Grieve, grieve well, because it will end when we see Jesus.
God bless you. My friend today, would you give me a moment of your time? So often I have found Christians who don't know what to say when someone is going through grief. A woman may lose her husband, perhaps the death of a child, and so they avoid the subject. I want to encourage you, what you should do is to broach the subject, ask the person who is grieving to tell them about their loved one, and then simply grieve with them, give them a word of encouragement, pray with them, and maybe that's all you can do. You don't need some very special revelation as to what you should say. You'd be surprised at the blessing you can be in those difficult moments simply by identifying with those who sorrow. For a gift of any amount, we're actually making this message available for you. It's entitled Finding Purpose in Grief and Loneliness.
I believe it is going to be a blessing for you, but also it's the kind of message you want to pass along to others. Here's what you can do. Go to rtwoffer.com or call us at 1-888-218-9337. Remember the title of the message, Finding Purpose in Grief and Loneliness, and let me give you that contact info again.
Go to rtwoffer, of course rtwoffer is all one word, rtwoffer.com or pick up the phone and call us at 1-888-218-9337. You can write to us at Running to Win, 1635 North LaSalle Boulevard, Chicago, IL 60614. Running to Win is all about helping you find God's roadmap for your race of life. Fear, it's a powerful emotion.
It can grip our hearts, leaving us almost paralyzed. Next time, Pastor Lutzer tackles the challenge of living with fear and winning. This is a crucial message for all of us in these uncertain times. Plan to join us. Thanks for listening. This is Dave McAllister. Running to Win is sponsored by the Moody Church.
