A Grief Embraced

by Robert Jacobs

No one ever told me that grief felt so like fear. I am not afraid, but the sensation is like being afraid. The same fluttering in the stomach, the same restlessness, the yawning. I keep on swallowing. – “A Greif Observed” by C.S. Lewis[1]

Originally published in 1961 under the pseudonym N.W. Clerk, A Greif Observed chronicles the experiences, emotions, and thoughts of noted professor of Medieval studies and prolific writer C.S. Lewis immediately after the death of his wife, Joy Davidman. Within A Grief, Lewis captures grief in its raw, unprocessed, and often confusing form. For instance, his comparison of grief and fear, while puzzling to those unfamiliar with deep loss, often resonates with his readers, including me.

The unfortunate reality of living in a fallen world is that we will experience grief in its various forms many times throughout our life. Although we may never lose a spouse to death as Lewis did, this world repeatedly inflicts a bitter pain. Some experience grief when the consequences of their poor choices fully manifest, with many at Living Hope experiencing great loss because of their sexual sin. Still others in the Living Hope family experience a similar grief not because of their own sin but because of the sin of others, with family and friends completely alienated because of their supposed hatred and narrow-mindedness.

The danger with writing a devotional focused on the topic of grief is that it can quickly turn into what my good friend Chris calls “Christian cheese,” seemingly meaningless platitudes designed to respond to grief without actually validating the pain and confusion associated with loss (i.e. “Let go and let Jesus,” “This is your thorn in the flesh,” Let Jesus take the wheel, “ etc.) While such clichés are often based in biblical truth, they are usually blindly applied by a well-meaning friend who does not truly engage with their comrade's grief. In A Greif, Lewis describes this kind of heartless Christian feel-good theology in the following way: “Talk to me about the truth of religion and I'll listen gladly. Talk to me about the duty of religion and I'll listen submissively. But don't come talking to me about the consolations of religion or I shall suspect that you don't understand.”[2]

Although grief is a complex and protean emotion that must be experienced over a long period of time, scripture does offer examples of healthy ways to process such feelings. One example can be found in an unlikely place, the book of Judges. In chapter 6, the author (possibly Samuel) recounts the calling of Gideon. While Gideon hid in a winepress underground, an “angel of the Lord” approached him, declaring that Gideon would be used by God to free Israel from the hand of Midian (Judges 6:11). Many biblical scholars believe, as do I, that this “angel”—a Hebrew word that simply means messenger—was actually an incarnation of Christ.[3]

After realizing that he was indeed in the presence of a heavenly messenger, Gideon cries out in grief, “Alas, Sovereign Lord! I have seen the angel of the Lord face to face!” (Judges 6:22) According to the linguistic work of James Strong, the word translated here as “Alas” indicates a deep pain.[4] In other words, Gideon is grieved that he, a sinful man, has come face to face with one who has stood in the presence of God. In response to his grief, the messenger, or in other semantics the ambassador for the Lord, declares “Peace! Do not be afraid” (Judges 6: 23). Rather than offering some kind of “quick fix” or verbal salve to cover over Gideon’s grief, the messenger instead extends peace. Now, scripture does not say that this gift of peace assuaged all or even part of Gideon’s grief, but instead it says that Gideon’s immediate reaction was to “[build] an altar to the Lord” in worship (Judges 6: 24).

This three-verse sequence offers us a highly unconventional, and honestly illogical in the eyes of the world, take on grief. As this “mighty man of valor” engaged his grief, the Lord intervened with His peace, which fueled Gideon’s worship in the midst of that grief. 

Worship as a response to grief? Seems like one of those “Christian cheese” platitudes that I mentioned before. While I could understand if someone thought this, I would point out that Gideon’s worship was not a cover-up for his feelings. He did not put on a happy face, build an alter, and sing up-beat praise and worship music. On the contrary, the Lord met him in his grief with divine peace, a beautiful image of Christ meeting us in our darkest moments to save us “while we were yet sinners” (Romans 5:8). It was out of this divine connection and amidst the pain of grief that Gideon’s heartfelt worship sprang forth.

The question for us, then, is what is our reaction to grief? Do we embrace what we feel and ask God for his peace, or do we stuff those feelings down deep inside? Do we worship God in the midst of our grief, or do we put on a smile and tell everyone we are fine? Do we allow God’s peace to meet us in our grief, or do we close him out and instead embrace bitterness?

While I can honestly say that there is no easy answer for the deep heartache and sorrow associated with grief, I can confidently say that Jesus will meet us at our point of anguish, mourning with those who mourn.

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[1] C.S. Lewis, A Greif Observed (New York: Harper One, 1996,) 3.

[2] Ibid, 25.

[3] See, for instance, A. E., Cundall and L. Morris, Judges and Ruth: An Introduction and Commentary (Downers Grove: InterVarsity Press, 1968), 103. 

[4] “אֲהָהּ,” A Concise Dictionary of the Words in the Greek Testament and the Hebrew Bible, James Strong.

Root Causes and Symptoms

by Robert Jacobs

There’s an old saying, “If you want to be cured, treat the cause not the symptom.” While I am not a medical doctor, this advice seems sound enough to me. After all, symptoms manifest a deeper, causal reality that we cannot see yet must be addressed to satiate said symptoms. For instance, my nose (at the moment of this devotional’s composition) is clogged up despite my use of decongestants. This stuffed up noes, while annoying in its own right, manifests a deeper truth, that my body has been infected by a virus. In the same way, a fever could indicate a bacterial infection while pain and swelling in the ankle might indicate a break in the bone. Given all these examples, the adage does seem to hold up; we should indeed seek to treat the cause and not the symptom.

However, we should not be so quick to dismiss the importance of symptoms themselves. While treating symptoms does not fix the root problem, the symptoms do alert us to a deeper problem that needs to be addressed. Accordingly, we should be careful to monitor our symptoms so that we can discover and address deeper problems that are more difficult to see. The same can be said of our spiritual life. But what does this practically look like?

The mission of Living Hope “is to proclaim God’s truth as we journey with those who are seeking sexual and relational wholeness through a more intimate relationship with Jesus Christ.” As this mission indicates, we believe that the root cause of sexual and relational brokenness (well, all brokenness really) is a severed relationship between man and God, a breach that can be bridged by the work of Jesus. Our sinful actions, then, are symptomatic of this deeper reality.

If it’s true that the severed relationship between us and God is the root cause of our problem, and addressing a root cause is the key to fixing a problem, why do we even care about our sin? Or, let me ask it in another way. Why do we spend so much time in accountability relationships, support groups, and the like talking about our sin when the sin is only a symptom of a deeper problem? In our LHM groups and in the online forums, why do we ask symptomatic questions like, “Have you been pure this week?” A puzzling question, right? The answer lies in the role and purpose of symptoms.

Just as physical symptoms reveal a deeper and more difficult to perceive reality about our bodies, so too does our sin reveal much about the state of our heart and its relationship with God. In Matthew 12:24, Jesus asserts the simple truth that “out of the abundance of the heart the mouth speaks.” In other words, our actions are fueled by the content and condition of our heart. In this way, our choices act as a kind of spiritual barometer, offering insight into the seemingly intangible realities of the heart.

So, what do your actions say about your heart? It could be that your sinful choices demonstrate your lack of trust in His goodness, that His definition of sexual expression—limited to a man and a woman in a marriage covenant—is unjust and therefor He must be a cold and unfeeling monster. It could be your bitterness reveals that you do not trust God because he has allowed your son, daughter, brother, sister, or spouse to abandon you and the faith. Or your actions could show that you trust Him, that you believe that he truly does care for you even when your flesh says something different, that you know that His hand rests on even those who are in the “far country.” No matter the case, remember that our actions, both sinful and not sinful, offer us a window into the often hard to understand recesses of our hearts.

What’s the Big Deal with Sexual Sin

by Robert Jacobs

“What’s the big deal with sexual sin,” one of my family members asked me as I sipped on my ice tea one evening. “All sin is sin and separates us from God, so why do people make such a commotion about sexual sin specifically.”

Although you may not get asked this question in the middle of a busy family gathering, I am willing to bet that you have indeed pondered this very subject. What is the big deal with sexual sin? Is it the same as all other sins?

The biblical answer to this question is both yes and no. From an eternal perspective, sexual sin and any other kind of sin are equal in their ability to separate us from God. This is why when Paul says in Romans 3 “for all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God” he does not specify degrees to which one falls short (Romans 3:23). On the contrary, the literal translation of the word “sinned” is to “fail of one’s purpose” or to “go wrong."[1] In this way, all sin causes us to fail in the purpose set out for us at the creation of Man: to glorify and worship God.

However, Paul also teaches that sexual sin is unique in that we are to “Flee from sexual immorality,” for “every other sin a person commits is outside the body, but the sexually immoral person sins against his own body” (1 Corinthians 6:18). Clearly, Paul does not see “sexual immorality” as the same as all other sins. So, what’s the difference and why does it matter?

While all sin separates us from God—necessitating the sacrifice of Christ to bridge the gap between our sinful selves and a holy God—each act of sin carries with it different temporal consequences, with the severity of said consequences often compounding as we habitually engage in a particular sin. As many of the participants who have come through Living Hope can attest, there are large and often devastating consequences to be paid for sexual sin. In fact, I have found that many people will often not turn from their sin until they feel the sting of consequence. This is in spite of the fact that Christ continually warns them about the danger of their sin.

So, if sexual sin is so consequential, how do we “flee” from it as Paul suggests? Later in the same letter, Paul describes the need for self-discipline through a dietary metaphor. “Every athlete,” Paul asserts, “exercises self-control in all things” so that they can win a prize (1 Corinthians 9:25). The hyphenated word “self-control” here, while absolutely indicating self-discipline in a general sense—can also refer to what one ingests.[2] Taken in light of his earlier concept of sexual sin being internally consequential, this passage can instruct us in how to combat sexual sin.

If we seek to receive the prize at the end of the struggle, just as the athlete does at the end of the race, then we must carefully guard what we take into ourselves. What do you allow into your mind and heart through your eyes and ears? Is it fuel to run the race of life in such a way as to obtain the “imperishable” prize, or do you seek to fulfill an immediate desire? Do you train your mind like athletes train their body—only ingesting that which will help you obtain your goal—or do you work against yourself, throwing obstacles in your way as you seek Christ?

Be ever meticulous about what you ingest. In doing so, you fuel your body to “[strain] forward to what lies ahead [and] press on toward the goal for the prize of the upward call of God in Christ Jesus” (Philippians 3:14).

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[1] Liddell and Scott, A Greek-English Lexicon (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1996), s.v. ἁμαρτάνω.

[2] Several early Greek texts use this word to refer to food consumption, including those by Vettus Valens Astrologus. See Liddell and Scott, s.v. ἐγκρατεύομαι.