Renewing The Mind: The Nuances of Grief, Faith, and Hope

If you opened this blog with the expectation of reading a bunch of scriptures and encouragements to “faith” your way through hard times, I’m unfortunately going to disappoint you. Nor am I here to do as the world does, and just say, “you do you, boo.”

Because when it comes to our thoughts, our faith, and the circumstances we face each day, neither stock answer will help you.

Lately, I’ve been mulling over something Pieter Valk said in our last Good Christian Podcast. He said that the middle ground is the hardest place to be as Christian, but the place Jesus occupied the most often. So many of us want black and white rules and answers because it’s easier. But it’s in the grey, that Jesus resides.

            So, it is with our renewing our minds.

            My husband and I have been in a challenging season (if you’re interested in the raw details, check out my blog called A Path Made Straight, I was lamentably, very honest). During this time, we’ve been challenged to wrestle with the messy in-between of Grief and Peace. Disillusionment and Hope. Disappointment and Faith.

And in this wrestle, I’ve found all manner of support in one of two directions.

1)     Some people are ready to hear my grief, my pain, to commiserate and empathize and hold me while I cry. And those people are right to do so.

2)     Others are full of faith and intent to direct my eyes to the Lord amid my anger. They see it as their duty to make sure my faith does not waiver, that my eyes are always on Him, that I ‘m keeping my heart in check. They too, are right to do so.

The first group of people go with you into the dark and sit with you there, and that is a blessing not to be taken lightly. But somewhere in the dark, they forget to offer hope, and in the end, you’re left still in the dark.

The second group of people are afraid of the dark, and act like a life-vest, trying to keep your spirits buoyed above the water by not letting you delve too deeply into what you’re experiencing.

But it’s rare to find people who hold both spaces at once. I can count on one hand the people in my life who excel at the listening ear, the sheltering hug, while also lifting my chin to look to Jesus.

And that’s not their fault.

It’s not even their responsibility.

What I’m really highlighting here is that few of us seem to know the best way to help someone in these messy spaces, any more than we know how to help ourselves.

Yes, it is incredibly necessary—and something that sets us apart as believers— to take hold of our thoughts, and to set them on God’s higher way.

“Do not be conformed to this world, but be transformed by the renewal of your mind, that by testing, you may discern what is the will of God, what is good, and acceptable, and perfect” -- Romans 12:2

“Finally, brothers, whatever is true, whatever is honorable, whatever is just, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is commendable, if there is any excellence, if there is anything worthy of praise, think about these things.” -- Philippians 4:8

I am a STRONG believer in renewing our mind with praise and thanksgiving. It’s a skill you don’t truly understand until you’re in a place where you feel you have every right to be bitter, and yet you choose thanksgiving instead. There is power there. It’s not easy, but that’s why it’s called a ‘sacrifice of praise’.

But is that to say that we are to ignore all experiences in our life that threaten that position of gratitude? That we must shove down all feelings of grief and loss and disappointment and pretend like they don’t enter the equation?

Absolutely not.

Alicia Britt Chole has a lot to say about this, and I think she’s one of the best voices in our generation to coach us through these tough middle grounds. She says:

“In these unexpected days, grieving is a discipline, not a distraction. Honesty about loss is as essential for nearness to God, as is gratitude about gain.”

Let us not forget there’s an entire section of Bible called laments.

“All my longings lie open before you, Lord; my sighing is not hidden from you. My heart pounds, my strength fails me; even the light has gone from my eyes. My friends and companions avoid me because of my wounds…” -- Psalm 38:9-11

You can’t heal from grief, or choose hope, when you refuse to acknowledge the grief and hopelessness in the first place. That’s called denial, not faith.

We, as the church, need to get better at this middle ground. We need to weep with those who weep, and also point them back to hope. This means we cannot RUSH either process. There’s no stock-answer, no ready response to help people through troubling times. Each interaction will need to be tailor-made to the experience and the person, and honestly, as a church we don’t like that. We want answers, verses, and sermons, that protect us from having to go into those uncomfortable spaces.

I’m sorry to say this, but to truly walk with someone as Jesus did, you’re going to be uncomfortable.

For group number one, you’re going to have to challenge people with hope and truth and go against the world’s advice of entitlement sometimes, and you’re going to have to “feel out” when to do that.

For group number two, you’re going to have to sit in some messy emotions, some troubling thoughts and some moods you don’t approve of. Sometimes you’ll even need to be the voice that tells them they’re allowed.

Because neither state is hopeless or despised by God, in fact they both have their place; each lament ending in intentional praise. In my messy seasons, Jesus has always met me right in the middle. He has not condemned my wallowing. He’s there when I do and he’s heartbroken with me. But nor does he add to my self-pity, sparing me from the challenges and hard truths I need to hear.  

Maybe you’re reading and you need permission to feel that grief (and make no mistake, we grieve more than just the loss of loved ones; life is a series of tiny griefs).

Or maybe you need a reminder to make sure you’re positioning yourself to end your lament in the ‘sacrifice’ of praise.

Or maybe you know someone in these seasons and need to hear that wherever they are, you can support and love them. And next time you’re with someone troubled or wrestling, pause before you jump in with whichever state you lean toward, and maybe this time, as Jesus did, choose the grey.