Bible, Grief, Repeat

 

Don—my “Spiritual Father” (yes, I gave him that title, and yes, he owns it proudly)—assigned me the book of Deuteronomy to read. Not once, not twice… but twenty times. You read that right. Twenty. Times.

My first thought? “This man has absolutely lost it.” I mean, thirty-four chapters? Be so for real, Don! I truly thought he was out of his holy mind.

So here I am, knee-deep in Deuteronomy for what feels like the 42nd day in the wilderness, still trying to figure out what exactly is happening. But, I will say—some wisdom has started to sneak in. I’ve learned that Deuteronomy was probably one of Jesus’s favorite books from the Torah, which instantly gives it some street cred.

I still feel a bit lost reading it, but you know what? That’s okay. There’s a lot of spiritual meat in there, and I’m committed to chewing on it slowly, even if it takes all twenty rounds. For those unfamiliar, Deuteronomy is the last book of the Torah, part of the Old Testament, and written by Moses—yes, that Moses. It’s deep, it’s repetitive, and apparently, it’s exactly what I need.

This afternoon, I went to a celebration of life for Shawn—the older brother of one of my closest friends (who honestly feels more like a sister). He passed in his late 40s, and it was clear how deeply loved and admired he was. So many beautiful stories were shared. Laughter and tears blended into something sacred.

As I stood there, I started feeling the pull to pray for people in the room. I overheard bits of conversations: “God took him too soon.” “It was just his time.” “He’s in a better place.” You know—the things we say when words can’t fix the pain but we try anyway.

I’ve lost many people in my life, and at a young age. Over the years, I’ve unintentionally become the person people come to when they’re grieving or trying to make sense of death. In my 20s, that felt so heavy. I hadn’t even begun healing myself, but I helped others because I knew what it was like to feel totally misunderstood.

Now, in my mid-40s (I know, I don’t look it), I’ve come to accept that this is one of the ways God uses me. And while I don’t love being in this role—I hate why it exists—I do feel incredibly blessed to be a light for someone sitting in darkness.

Life can be brutal. There are days when God feels quiet, or absent, or like He’s left you on read. I’ve had moments where I wanted to write my own modern-day lament or psalm, just to say, “Hey God, where are You?”

But I’ve learned that this silence is often a lie whispered by the enemy, trying to convince us we’ve been abandoned. We haven’t.

One of my favorite promises comes from Deuteronomy 31:8:
“The Lord himself goes before you and will be with you; he will never leave you nor forsake you.”

Even when grief screams louder than hope, He is still there.
Even when we feel ghosted by heaven, He is still near.
Even in the wilderness of confusion, He is leading the way.

 Don—if you happen to read this: thank you.
Thank you for your wisdom, your guidance, and your patience. Thank you for the way you challenge me, encourage me, and always point me back to God. I am so incredibly blessed that He put you in my life. I actually do enjoy the reading assignments—even when they stretch me. That spiritual meat you keep serving up? I'm chewing every bite. 

 -God Bless-

Jane