When Grief Walks Through the Door

Cover Article

by Michael Jones · Week of September 13, 2026

Grief never knocks. It slips through the door without invitation, triggered by a photograph on the mantle, a familiar hymn, an empty chair where someone used to sit. One moment you are managing your day; the next, the full weight of absence lands on your chest and you cannot breathe. If you have walked through significant loss, you know that grief is not a problem to be solved. It is a presence you learn to carry. It reshapes your world the way a river reshapes stone, slowly, relentlessly, permanently. And in those raw moments when it surges fresh, it can feel every bit as devastating as the day the loss first came. Scripture does not flinch from this reality. The Psalms are drenched with tears: “My tears have been my food day and night” (Psalm 42:3). “How long, O Lord? Will you forget me forever?” (Psalm 13:1). God never rebukes the grieving heart. He bends low to listen. He makes room for every sob, every unanswerable question, every trembling prayer whispered in the dark.

Paul opens his second letter to the Corinthians with a breathtaking declaration: “Praise be to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of compassion and the God of all comfort, who comforts us in all our troubles, so that we can comfort those in any trouble with the comfort we ourselves receive from God” (2 Corinthians 1:3–4). Notice what Paul does not say. He does not promise a life free of pain. He does not suggest that strong faith produces dry eyes. Instead he reveals a God whose very nature is comfort, not comfort from a safe distance, but comfort poured into the deepest fractures of the human heart. And then comes the beautiful turn: that same comfort overflows from us into the lives of others who are hurting. Our grief, touched by God, becomes a wellspring of ministry. The very wound that once left us speechless equips us to sit beside another broken person and whisper, “I know. I have been there. And God was faithful.”

Consider the stunning scene at the tomb of Lazarus. Jesus knew what He was about to do. He knew the stone would roll away and His friend would walk out alive. Yet John records the shortest and perhaps most profound verse in all of Scripture: “Jesus wept” (John 11:35). Even in the presence of resurrection power, the Son of God entered fully into sorrow. He did not bypass it. He did not explain it away. He stood at that grave and let His tears fall, because grief is not the opposite of faith. It is the cost of love. The Psalmist writes, “The Lord is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit” (Psalm 34:18). Picture that. The Almighty God of the universe does not observe your pain from heaven’s throne room. He draws near. He kneels beside the brokenhearted. He gathers the crushed in spirit into the shelter of His presence. If you have believed the lie that deep grief means weak faith, release that burden today. Jesus Himself, perfect in faith, perfect in obedience, wept at a graveside. Your tears do not disappoint God. They move Him.

Yet Scripture also refuses to leave us stranded in sorrow. Paul writes to the Thessalonians, “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. For we believe that Jesus died and rose again, and so we believe that God will bring with Jesus those who have fallen asleep in him” (1 Thessalonians 4:13–14). He does not command us to stop grieving. He transforms the grief itself by flooding it with hope. Because Jesus walked out of that tomb, death lost its final word. Because He lives, every goodbye between believers is temporary. The ache is real, but so is the reunion. The night is long, but morning is promised. This is the hope that changes everything: not a hope that erases the pain, but one that wraps around it like light around a wound, giving it meaning and direction. So bring your grief to God. Pour it out honestly, the way David did, the way Jesus did. Trust the Father of compassion with every broken piece. He will not waste your sorrow. He will hold you through it, walk with you beyond it, and one day, one glorious day, wipe every tear from your eyes forever (Revelation 21:4). - MJ

Other congregations are welcome to reprint this. It may be reproduced in another congregation’s bulletin or newsletter without asking permission. An acknowledgement of Orange View Church of Christ is appreciated but not required.

Bible Questions & Answers

Can you explain the Trinity in a way that makes sense?

This is one of the most important questions a person can ask, and it deserves an honest, careful answer. The nature of the Godhead is the deepest reality Scripture reveals, and we must handle it faithfully rather than reduce it to clever illustration. The word “Trinity” does not appear in the Bible, so we should build our understanding on what Scripture actually teaches rather than on philosophical frameworks imposed from outside. Let us begin with the bedrock. Scripture is unambiguous that there is one God: “Hear, O Israel: The Lord our God, the Lord is one” (Deuteronomy 6:4). Yet this same Scripture presents three distinct persons each identified as God. Jesus commanded, “Go therefore and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit” (Matthew 28:19). The Greek uses the singular onoma (“name”), not the plural, one name, yet three persons named within it. Paul writes similarly: “The grace of the Lord Jesus Christ, and the love of God, and the fellowship of the Holy Spirit be with you all” (2 Corinthians 13:14). Three distinct persons, united in a single apostolic blessing.

John’s Gospel establishes the deity of each person with precision. “In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. He was in the beginning with God. All things were made through him” (John 1:1–3). The Greek preposition pros (“with”) indicates a face-to-face relationship: the Word was distinct from the Father, yet the Word “was God” (theos en ho logos). This is divine revelation pressing the boundaries of human language. The Holy Spirit is likewise identified as God. When Ananias lied, Peter said, “Why has Satan filled your heart to lie to the Holy Spirit? . . . You have not lied to man but to God” (Acts 5:3–4). Peter equated lying to the Spirit with lying to God, an equation that makes sense only if the Spirit is fully God. At the baptism of Jesus, all three persons are present simultaneously: the Son rises from the water, the Spirit descends like a dove, and the Father speaks from heaven (Matthew 3:16–17). Three distinct persons, one event, one redemptive purpose.

Clarity also requires us to say what Scripture does not teach. The Godhead is not three separate gods. That is tritheism, and it violates the monotheism of both Testaments. Nor is it one God who changes forms or modes, appearing now as Father, now as Son, now as Spirit. That is modalism, and it cannot account for the Son praying to the Father or the Father sending the Spirit (John 14:16–17, 26). The Son is not one-third of God, nor a created being; Colossians 1:15–17 declares that “by him all things were created” and “he is before all things, and in him all things hold together.” What Scripture presents is one God who eternally exists as three co-equal, co-eternal persons. The Father is not the Son. The Son is not the Spirit. The Spirit is not the Father. Yet each is fully God, and there is only one God. They share the same divine nature, the same purpose, perfectly unified yet genuinely distinct.

Why does this matter practically? Because the Godhead is not an abstract puzzle. It is the foundation of the gospel. Salvation requires all three persons working in concert: the Father plans redemption (Ephesians 1:3–6), the Son accomplishes it through His death and resurrection (Ephesians 1:7–12), and the Spirit applies it to our hearts, sealing us for the day of redemption (Ephesians 1:13–14). When we are baptized into Christ for the remission of sins (Acts 2:38; Romans 6:3–4), we are baptized into the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. When we pray, we approach the Father, through the Son, by the power of the Spirit (Ephesians 2:18). When we gather to worship, singing psalms and spiritual songs and making melody in our hearts to the Lord (Ephesians 5:19; Colossians 3:16), we worship a God whose very nature is relational, a God who has existed in perfect fellowship from all eternity. We will never fully comprehend the Godhead this side of eternity. That is what we should expect when finite minds approach an infinite God. But we can know Him: the Father through the Son, His presence through the Spirit. The mystery of the Godhead is not a flaw in our faith; it is an invitation to humility, to wonder, and to a lifetime of growing in the knowledge of the God who is far greater than our minds can contain. - MJ