As I’m writing this article, our world finds itself facing a pandemic. Like many, I’m wondering how to navigate through the difficult uncertainty of each day. Weeks feel like years for many. Each day is different. News about the severity (or lack thereof) of COVID-19 changes with each briefing from local and federal authorities. One thing is for certain: We will feel the impact of these strange times for years to come.
The situation in which we find ourselves can create many unique situations of complex grief. For those quarantined at home, these days can feel disorienting. In the middle of this uncertainty, it’s worth pausing for a time to wonder how well we Free Will Baptists are helping the hurting. The pandemic climate may create new opportunities to help others, but the question remains: How well are we Free Will Baptists helping the hurting? Of course, we could (and should) pose this question of our ministries during any circumstance.
Raising the question of how well we’re helping the hurting does not necessarily imply that we have fallen short in our ministries. Rather, I offer the question by way of encouragement and challenge as we enter uncharted territory. Now only is the present uncharted territory, but also the future is, by definition, uncharted.
By the time this article is published, we may find ourselves at the peak. By God’s grace, a vaccine may be at hand. However, the wounds of grief will remain, which brings to mind our question: How well are our ministries helping the hurting? Each experience of grief will look different. Therefore, we should pause and examine closely how we respond to pain and suffering.
Let Pain Be
Immediately after a great loss, people usually feel numb and a sense of disbelief: “This just can’t be!” or “Why did this happen?” It can be disorienting. Some probably began feeling that way the moment their schedules changed, especially if they were laid off from jobs, furloughed, or had their hours cut.
So what will ministry look like during a time of pain and sorrow? Ministry leaders must remember to give people permission to feel what they feel. We struggle with doing this because we are uncomfortable with appropriate grief responses and the pain that comes along with them. Grief feels uncomfortable because God did not design us to face betrayal, abandonment, loss, or anger. Death itself is unnatural, despite what the world says. It may be common, but it’s not natural. We all desire eternity. We should—it’s written on our hearts (Eccl. 3:11). But here, the grass withers, and the flowers fade. The shock of losing something tells us that this shouldn’t be what happens.
Ministry leaders should be careful not to sell false hope unintentionally during times of pain and suffering. However, we may do precisely that because of our own discomfort with what’s happening before us. We want to fix situations while God may want us to embrace our inadequacies. In recent months, funerals have been missed. Loved ones are dying alone in the hospital and nursing homes. This moment won’t be the last time people don’t feel that they received proper closure in a time of grief or mourning. We need to remind people that God is capable of holding them during these times of weeping and mourning (Eccl. 3:4). Certainly, nothing is wrong with trying to find joy, especially in the midst of fear. However, suppressing or ignoring negative emotions by selling false or immediate solutions is not helpful.
What will this more realistic, honest approach to caring for people look like? The answer to that question is important because it will comprise the church’s ministry until Jesus returns. We first must understand that the pain we face is real; therefore, we should be real about it as well. Although each patient/family is unique, the basics of human needs are generally the same. Extensive empathetic listening will be required. Patience will be required. Additionally, a non-anxious presence will help a person grieve well.
We also need some awareness and understanding of what some call “disenfranchised grief.” Simply put, this term refers to a loss that society or individuals do not specifically recognize. Kenneth J. Doka, who coined the term disenfranchised grief, “recognized four types of disenfranchised grief: (1) the relationship is not recognized, (2) the loss is not acknowledged, (3) the griever is excluded, and (4) the circumstances around family members’ deaths are deemed socially unacceptable, for example, suicide, AIDS, or the death of children.”[1]
People will unconsciously have rules about who or what you are allowed to grieve. But some people will have a form of disenfranchised grief, a loss that culture does not recognize. For instance, when you grieve the loss of a neighbor, or a coworker, or a teacher, someone that you may never have met, then you don’t always receive the kind of support to process through such a loss.
Seeing grief in this way connects to the present but can apply in any context. People have lost their jobs, or perhaps their coworkers have been let go from their job. Some feel disconnected from their communities of faith or schools. Christian leaders should have this awareness because grieving people whose grief is disenfranchised are frequently overlooked and ignored.
Comfort in the Silence
Recently I couldn’t help but to think about how all of what we have experienced in recent months seems connected to the Saturday between Good Friday and Easter. The tomb was sealed with Jesus lying inside. The disciples were laying low. It truly was a day of waiting. God determined in His providence not to have the Gospel writers record much on this particular day. How could anyone process the horrors of what had happened in the shadow of the cross?
I believe that Christians can find comfort in the silence, even if it is in the midst of a public health crisis: Journaling, praying, or just going for a walk can be helpful. Christians can still reach out to a trusted friend and talk to help process their feelings. And certainly all of the pieces of advice about eating well and sleeping well are also important. When the world’s foundations have been shaken, regular routines that function as pillars around which you can organize your time are helpful. Making an effort at having a disciplined time of devotion, exercise, or Bible reading can give a sense of grounding.
Walking with the Sufferer
Walking with someone going through pain and suffering is not easy work. By now, hopefully, you’ve had opportunities to sit with others during a church service. Even then, I think the intentional pause to reflect on how well we are helping the hurting will still remain. Will we recognize the need for the mourner to mourn actively? Will we embrace our powerlessness of simply having no control over a situation and show up with curiosity and a willingness to learn from the griever? Will we look to honor the situation, with no urgency to solve or satisfy real dilemmas? These situations will be overwhelming for everyone involved, whether it’s recognized or not.
Perhaps one of the greatest truths of which you can remind yourself as you are walking with someone through tragedy is the promise of the new creation. A time in history will come when grief will no longer exist. The reality of this fact seems so foreign right now, but the promise provides comfort. Jesus did not promise to make all new things; He promised to make all things new (Rev. 21:5).[2] This promise certainly includes our broken, sin-marred bodies.
As we navigate forward, complex grief will continue in our communities. It will be okay to ask why bad things happen. It will be okay to sit in silence. It will be okay to facilitate the continuing search for meaning. In the midst of confusion, simply extend grace wherever needed. Let our focus be fixed on Jesus. We see Him who tasted death for everyone (Heb. 2:9). Let us look towards the One who will give an unfading crown of glory to all who believe when He returns (1 Pet. 5:4).
[1]Steven Spidell, AnneMarie Wallace, Cindy Carmack, Graciela Nogueras Gonzalez, Crystal L. Parker, and Scott B. Cantor, “Grief in Healthcare Chaplains: An Investigation of the Presence of Disenfranchised Grief,” Journal of Health Care Chaplaincy, no. 17 (April, 2011): 75–86.
[2]I am indebted to Bruce Ashford for this helpful thought. Ashford is Provost and Professor of Theology and Culture at Southeastern Baptist Theological Seminary in Wake Forest, North Carolina.
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