Steadfast, Immovable, Abounding

This is the second installment in my series of posts on the beatitudes.

“Blessed are those who mourn, for they shall be comforted.”

Matthew 5:4

Almost everybody has lost somebody. Whether it’s a close friend, a child, a parent, a grandparent, a sibling, a spouse, or any loved one, their loss leaves a seemingly unfillable void in the hearts of those they leave behind. We walk with them through the valley of the shadow of death, but then they go—and sometimes, it seems we are left stranded in this valley which they have departed. The promise that we will see them again is, of course, an immeasurable comfort. Paul writes in 1 Thessalonians 4:13-14, “But we do not want you to be uninformed, brethren, about those who are asleep, so that you will not grieve as do the rest who have no hope. For if we believe that Jesus died and rose again, even so God will bring with Him those who have fallen asleep in Jesus.” But even the knowledge that our goodbyes are not forever is not a cure-all to the pain of loss. While I can’t even imagine enduring this kind of grief, I know that many who lose loved ones can’t be sure they will see them again. The reunion in heaven is a dependable promise, but it is a promise for those who have given their lives to Christ. How could there ever be comfort or healing for those who know they might have seen their loved one for the last time? Yet Jesus says that those who mourn will be blessed and comforted.

Whether you have the hope of reunion or not, it still can’t completely take away the hurt that death brings. When Jesus promised comfort for the mourning, I don’t think He was just talking about seeing our loved ones again in heaven. Yes, that is part of it, but not nearly all. In 2 Corinthians 1:3-5, Paul writes, “Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of mercies and God of all comfort, who comforts us in all our affliction with the comfort with which we ourselves are comforted by God. For just as the sufferings of Christ are ours in abundance, so also our comfort is abundant through Christ.” There is a parallel here: the more afflictions we suffer, the more comfort God gives. It’s not that God becomes more loving the more we hurt; He never changes. But pain, unlike anything else, drives us to the only One who can heal it. We must look for comfort from God because the world offers us none. And while the tears may dim our eyes at first to the compassion that is there for us, they will ultimately wash away worldly illusions and reveal how great our God truly is. I love what C. S. Lewis writes in his book The Problem of Pain: “Pain insists upon being attended to. God whispers to us in our pleasures, speaks in our conscience, but shouts in our pains: it is His megaphone to rouse a deaf world.”

If there’s one thing we don’t say after a death, it’s: “I feel so blessed to be mourning right now.” This specific beatitude may seem distasteful or even heartless when we are in the middle of the valley. How could Jesus speak of mourning as though it were something to be grateful for? Jesus blesses those who mourn, not because He desires to pain us, but because He knows that the more we hurt, the more His compassion is revealed to us. In Isaiah 53, Jesus is described as “a man of sorrows and acquainted with grief,” and verse 4 says, “Surely our griefs He Himself bore, and our sorrows He carried.” There is no pain you can experience which He has not already felt. He understands your hurt more than you do yourself, and He offers a refuge in this desolate world.

Death isn’t the only thing we mourn. We mourn our own sins, we mourn lost relationships, we mourn the misguided paths our friends take, we mourn division and hypocrisy within the church, we mourn the rebellion our nation seems to chase so increasingly, and yes, we mourn those whose life on this earth has drawn to an end. And in all of this grief, we are taught more and more that there is no true comfort in this world but the God who created it. Every time we are wounded, we see a little more of His goodness, protection, and love. Even our own death – the worst this world can do to us – is the ultimate proof of this. We will leave this earth behind, and finally see God as He truly is. And while I have no hope of telling you what that will be like, I know that all I have seen of His goodness so far cannot begin to compare to Him in His fullness. But until then, I know that each affliction I experience will be more than covered by the comfort of my God. He welcomes my hurting soul to Him, listens to my painful requests, and tells me He has already born it all. “Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I fear no evil, for You are with me; Your rod and Your staff, they comfort me” (Psalm 23:4).