Call It What It Is - The Sacred Nature of Honest Grief

When Pastor Mike's wife received her cancer diagnosis, well-meaning church members immediately started saying, "Remember that all things work together for good." While their hearts were in the right place, Mike felt crushed under the weight of having to be "thankful" for something that felt like a devastating blow from heaven itself.

"I love God," he told me during one of our coffee meetings, "but right now, I'm not feeling very grateful. Does that make me a bad Christian?"

I opened my Bible to the same psalm Jesus quoted from the cross—and pointed to verse 1. "Look here, Mike. If it was okay for the Son of God to cry out 'Why have You forsaken me?' then I think God can handle your honest questions too."

Sometimes the most faithful thing we can do is tell the truth about our pain before we try to find meaning in it.

The Lie We Tell Ourselves: In Christian circles, we often feel pressure to skip straight to the "God's got a plan" part before we've even acknowledged what we've actually lost. We think that admitting our devastation somehow dishonors God or reveals weak faith. But Scripture doesn't support this rush to spiritual acceptance.

Look at the Psalms—David regularly brought his rawest complaints before God. The book of Job is essentially a 42-chapter wrestling match with suffering. Jesus himself wept at Lazarus's tomb, even knowing He would raise him from the dead. The God who created us with emotions isn't threatened by our honest expression of them.

What Makes Pain Holy: Holy pain isn't holy because it feels good or because we understand it. It's holy because God allows it to do sacred work in us—stripping away what's shallow, deepening our roots, teaching us things we couldn't learn any other way. When my dad died in a car accident when I was eight, I hammered together a wooden cross from scraps in his toolbox, pounding out a fury I couldn't name. Looking back, I see that wasn't just grief—it was the beginning of a faith that could hold weight.

The Freedom in Truth: When we name our losses honestly—without trying to spiritualize them away too quickly—we create space for authentic healing. God doesn't need us to protect His reputation by pretending everything is fine when it isn't. He's big enough to handle our questions, our anger, and our moments of feeling utterly abandoned.

Application: Today, resist the urge to put a positive spin on your situation before you've honestly faced it. Complete this sentence: "What happened to me is..." Don't search for lessons yet. Don't hunt for silver linings. Just acknowledge the reality of what you're walking through.

Write a letter to God that begins with complete honesty about where you are right now. Include your fears, your anger, your questions. Remember, David's most brutally honest Psalms often ended with declarations of trust—but they started with raw truth.

God can handle your honesty. In fact, He's been waiting for it.

Prayer: God, You already know what's really going on in my heart, but help me to be honest about it, too. When I feel pressure to have it all figured out or to be grateful for things that genuinely hurt, give me the courage to tell You the truth instead. Help me trust that my honesty with You is the beginning of healing, not a sign of faithless doubt. Amen.