surprised

The grief process is often referred to with identifying words: shock, bargaining, denial, anger, acceptance, etc. I don't remember hearing much about the reason these labels exist. However, I have learned that these tidy terms come in handy because grief is messy, outrageous, unpredictable, disillusioning. Grief is a sniper, because it strikes at surprising moments, and takes you down. You're enjoying the diversion of the home decor aisle, and a ceramic duck undoes you, because Mom loved wild ducks. You drive by a golf course, and weep suddenly, because the friend who was like a father can't possibly be there. You come across the smiling picture of a beloved family member, and feel your stomach seize up, startled again that he took his own life. Undoubtedly those who grieve recognize these ambushes that expose our vulnerability. They are different from the high hurdles of anniversaries and holidays. It's hard to hunker down for cover when you don't know the blow is coming.

Nevertheless, the Apostle Peter tells us: Dear friends, do not be surprised at the painful trial you are suffering, as though something strange were happening to you. (I Peter 4:12) This seems to go against reason. Of course we are stunned when pain pierces our lives. I know I felt undone, thrown into a murky cloud of emotional survival. There was a lot of collateral damage, and my own reactions dumbfounded me. In every situation, things were surprisingly complicated at some level, for different reasons. It was a strange, unfriendly country. So what do you mean, Peter? More importantly, what do You mean, Lord?

The Word tells us repeatedly, Do not be afraid. Fear not. Yet the natural human response to certain stimuli is fear. Because we react that way instinctively, this admonition from the Lord is comforting, reminding us we can still trust Him. He addresses our fear head-on. I think the Lord is bracing us in a similar way in 1 Peter. The natural human response to loss is astonishment. We are propelled into an unfamiliar, barren landscape; there is no turning back. The one we love is absent. We crumple, astounded, and the Lord speaks to assure us that He is still in control. He is unchanging in His goodness. He is love. In the valley of the shadow of death, He is with me.

As I emerge from the darkest tunnels of those immediate days, I find that the Lord is asking me a significant question. It touches on His centrality and Lordship in my life. It has to do with Him being more than an aspirin or fashion accessory, or a compartment of my life. It does not bring answers for the many questions I have; it is about priorities. It is not unlike the questions He asked Peter on a Galilean beach: Do you love Me? Do you love Me more than these?