Holy Grief and Sacred Pain

I ignored the first call. We were in the middle of a game, celebrating one of my best friends at her bachelorette party. My phone rang again. Figuring my husband just wanted to call to say goodnight, I picked up. The music cut out—my phone was connected to the Bluetooth speaker. I disconnected and answered, “Hey, honey!” I’ll never forget the way Aj’s voice sounded when he responded, “Alissa’s dead.” The joy and laughter shattered in an instant. I was in complete disbelief and disoriented. I sank to the floor and said, “What are you saying to me right now?” I don’t remember much after that. Alissa was 22. My sister-in-law (really more like my actual sister) was ripped from us. Her overdose completely devastated our family. It’s been almost 3 years, and there’s still an Alissa-sized hole in all of our hearts.  My grief didn’t feel holy. It felt like rage. It tore through everything. And somewhere inside me, a wall went up between me and God. I was angry. I was broken. I was tired of hearing the typical cliches about “God’s plan” and how “everything happens for a reason.” I didn’t want comfort, I wanted answers. Over time, that spiritual distance got bigger and bigger until finally, I felt numb.

“Jesus wept.”

The shortest verse, but one of the most soul-revealing and profoundly powerful passages in Scripture. These two words are found in the story of Lazarus’s death and resurrection. Lazarus had two sisters, Mary and Martha, who had sent word to Jesus that their brother was seriously sick. By the time Jesus got to Bethany, Lazarus had already been dead for four days. When the grieving sisters heard that their Lord had finally come, they ran out to Him.

“Lord,” Martha said to Jesus, “if You had been here, my brother would not have died.” . . .When Mary reached the place where Jesus was and saw Him, she fell at His feet and said, “Lord, if You had been here, my brother would not have died.” When Jesus saw her weeping, and the Jews who had come along with her also weeping, He was deeply moved in spirit and troubled. “Where have you laid him?” He asked. “Come and see, Lord,” they replied. Jesus wept. – John 11:21, 32-35 (NIV, emphasis mine)

Have you ever wondered why Jesus cried, knowing full well He was about to raise Lazarus? Grief is often dismissed or rushed, but Jesus lingered in it. He stood at the tomb of a friend He loved and wept. Even though He knew resurrection was coming. Even though He had power over death. Even though He knew He was God. In the shortest verse of the Bible lies the deepest truth: Jesus understands your pain, because He’s felt it, too. Jesus was fully God and fully human—He felt loss.

For we do not have a high priest who is unable to empathize with our weaknesses. . . – Hebrews 4:15

. . .a man of suffering, and familiar with pain. – Isaiah 53:3

Jesus didn’t shame grief—He entered into it. When Martha and Mary came to Him in their mourning, He showed compassion. God isn’t distant from our pain. David writes in Psalm 34:18, “The Lord is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit.” He meets us in the valley. You know what that means? Grief isn’t something to “get over,” but something to walk through. Martha and Mary were brave enough to bring their hard questions and hurt feelings to Jesus. I need you to know that God can handle it—your anger, your sorrow, your questions, your doubts. He wants you to bring it all to Him. The Bible is full of grievers: Hannah wept bitterly, was childless, and heartbroken (1 Samuel 1:10); Job tore his robe, shaved his head, and fell to the ground in grief (Job 1:20); David cried out, “My tears have been my food day and night” (Psalm 42:3); and Jeremiah was called the weeping prophet (Jeremiah 9:1).

Grief is not a lack of faith. And biblical grief is not hopeless. The Jesus who wept is the same Jesus who called Lazarus out of the grave. You can mourn the loss of someone you love and still believe in resurrection.

Brothers and sisters, we do not want you to be uninformed about those who sleep in death, so that you do not grieve like the rest of mankind, who have no hope. – 1 Thessalonians 4:13

Our tears are temporary, but we know that His love is eternal. Because of Jesus, there will be a day where all believers are reunited and grief is gone forever. Resurrection is coming!

For a long time, I let my grief bury me. I felt like God had taken someone so precious from me and left me with nothing but a shattered life. I was Lazarus, wrapped in burial cloths, not even sure I wanted to live differently. My grief was a grave—until it became a garden. Something shifted. It wasn’t sudden or glamorous. It was raw. I felt Him again. Not in lightning or thunder, but in the whisper: “I know your pain. I cried, too.” Just as Jesus called Lazarus out of the grave, He called me out of spiritual numbness. Grief can feel like death, but God brings beauty from ashes (Isaiah 61:3). The pain didn’t vanish, but something sacred began to grow. Just like Lazarus, the tomb became a doorway and the grave became a garden.

If you’re in the middle of your own loss, please hear me: You don’t have to “move on.” You don’t have to be okay. You don’t have to tie it all up in a pretty bow. You are allowed to mourn. You are allowed to feel how you need to feel. Jesus did. Don’t rush your grief. Invite God into your pain. Surround yourself with people who reflect His compassion. Journal, cry, scream, walk, and wait. Remember, even now the King of kings weeps with you.

Grief is not faithlessness, failure, or weakness. You are not broken beyond repair. Your tears are seen and honored by the God who cried, too. There is healing ahead, even if it comes slowly. Jesus enters our pain and transforms it—not by erasing it, but by redeeming it. My grief cracked me wide open. But it also opened a door—a door where God didn’t meet me with sermons or silence, but with tears. I believe He does the same for you. Grief, when shared with Jesus, becomes something holy. Let your pain be sacred. Let your tears fall. And when you’re ready, listen for the voice that calls dead things back to life.

Prayer For the One Who is Angry:

Jesus, I don’t understand why this happened. My heart feels bruised by Your silence. But I believe—even if it’s only a flicker—that You weep with me. That You are near to the brokenhearted. I know that You are big enough to handle my feelings. Hold me when I’m too tired to hold on to You. Help me believe that this pain is not the end of my story. Amen.

Prayer for the One Who is Grieving:

Jesus, You stood outside the tomb of Your friend and wept. You knew the ending, yet You let the pain in. I don’t understand all of what I feel. My grief is heavy. Sometimes I feel angry. Sometimes I feel numb. But I trust that You are near. Help me to grieve with You, not apart from You. Sit with me in this sorrow. Let my tears be prayers when words won’t come. Amen.

Prayer for the One Who Feels Spiritually Dead Inside:

God, I feel like Lazarus. Shut down and sealed off from You. Grief has made me cold and tired. But I know that You are the God who calls the dead to life. Call me out of this tomb. Speak my name and wake me up again. Use even this grief to draw me closer. Let resurrection begin in my heart. Amen.

Prayer for the One Who is Healing:

Lord, Thank You for not rushing me through sorrow. Thank You for showing me that even grief is a place where I can find Your presence. Teach me to sit with others in their pain as You sit with me in mine. Turn this ache into compassion. Turn this love into love. Use this grief to grow something holy. Amen.