Sabbath Devotional :: Shared and Sacred Grief

“This is an impossible week that contains an impossible grief, but it is made bearable by the love and care of a community”

I wrote those words during a week when I received some crushing news about someone my family cared deeply about. While I experienced deep personal grief at the news, the bulk of my sorrow came on behalf of those who were suffering much more than I. How could I lift their burden? I knew from experience that there was no way around feeling pain at such a loss, that the only way ahead was straight through it. What could I do to support them through this process?

The answers came blessedly fast as I reflected on words I had previously written and read, as well as some experiences that left a deep impression and helped prepare me for this moment. I offer them to you now in hopes it will give you some relief and hope.

“Each of us suffers; therefore, we are universally faced with a choice between bitter hardness and the soft humility that can lead us to be a creative force for good. Chances are that we will experiment with a variety of feelings and actions along the spectrum in between. The reality of a mortal life will continue to feed us pain and sorrow, and we will hopefully inch our way toward greater wisdom and tenderness.

The act of mourning in solidarity with another may accompany bearing [burdens], or it may take place on its own. At times, we might not have the strength to actively bear but can find a place in our hearts to mourn. We should not underestimate the power of sharing the sacred experience of grief with another, whether we are beside them physically or symbolically.” (“The Little Purple Book”: MWEG Essentials, pg 42-46)

Suffering is inevitable and so we must find out a way to consecrate it. Shared grief is the key to turning suffering into a sacred experience.

When I was in my early twenties, I had an experience that illustrates the power of sharing the load in this way. A close family member was in deep trouble. I prayed for him often and tried to influence however I could, but mostly felt helpless. One night, as I knelt by my bed to pray, I felt compelled to stay there and plead for him for a very long time. It was one of the most intense and focused prayers I had ever given. I felt this strong pressure to keep going for over an hour.

Later I learned that he had been in the deepest trouble of his life that very night. As a blessed result, he had a turning point. Many of us had been praying for such a hinge point, though none of us knew what it might look like. I walked away from this experience with a testimony that prayer is work and that we can feel pain alongside people in a way that is productive, good, and meaningful. This experience also caused me to think more expansively and deeply about the nature of Christ’s suffering and our redemption as a result.

In his book “Original Grace“, Adam Miller articulates the way that Christ’s sharing our suffering is a key mechanism of Atonement:

“By liberating me from the logic of original sin, Christ not only relieves my suffering, he also redeems my suffering. He relieves my suffering by sharing the yoke of that suffering with me, by vicariously suffering whatever I may be suffering, be it pain or sickness or sin or death. In Christ, I’m never alone. In Christ, I’m never abandoned.

But more than this, by liberating me from the logic of original sin, Christ also redeems my suffering by changing the quality of that suffering.” (page 60)

What does it mean to redeem and to change the quality of suffering? Is the act of shared grief or suffering enough to do so? Can we learn something about the nature of the Atonement and Christ’s suffering alongside us through the experience of shared human pain? Do we grow closer to Christ, become more like Him, and appreciate the role of His Atonement in a more meaningful way when we mourn with others?

I had a recent experience with personal suffering that opened up my mind a bit more on this topic.

After a week of illness, I found myself stuck in a cycle of migraines. I would get a migraine, take some medicine to alleviate it, only to have it return more intensely when the medicine wore off. This had happened before, so I knew what I needed to do- stop taking all medicine for a period of time and suffer through to break the cycle. The migraines come with nausea and dizziness and extreme sensitivity to light and sound. The only way to manage it is to hide myself in a quiet, dark room with my arm pressed up against my head, hoping to avoid the sort of nausea that sends me into a cycle of vomiting that leads to the emergency room.

As you may imagine, any prayers I offered during the worst of it were a bit desperate. When in the midst of extreme pain and discomfort, it is hard to be measured, grateful, and humble. I just wanted it all to stop and kept thinking I could not possibly keep tolerating the pain and nausea. But I did and it eventually subsided, and I was able to start functioning again.

As I was reflecting on the despairing nature of my prayers during that time and comparing them to the very focused and deliberate prayers that I offer up on behalf of my loved ones who are suffering, I started to envision people doing the same for me. When I knew I was going to have to break the migraine cycle, I reached out to the leadership team at MWEG to let them know why I was disappearing for a bit and to request some prayers. So, I had a very clear picture in my mind of some of the most amazing women I know praying for me specifically by name. It was such a powerful image and I felt the Christlike nature of their love, which in turn increased my proximity to the Savior’s love. It is a wonderfully virtuous cycle!

Which brings me back to you, our beloved MWEG members. I think about and pray for you every day and I talk (well, brag!) about you constantly. I feel joy at the successes you share on social media (thank you for accepting my friend requests and please never hesitate to send one to me), and I weep at the hard things you ALL manage. It has become very clear to me over the past year in particular that we are all living through a time that is messier and sadder than we have ever collectively experienced. As women, you often bear the brunt of things. You are carrying burdens that are simply too much and I want you to feel the solidarity of a community made up of members who understand and provide lift.

I also want you to know that I have a belief in the essential role that our Savior plays in all of this. He shares our yoke so we are never alone. Your most profoundly lonely and desperate moments are consecrated through His love for you. If, like me, this concept is one of constant consternation and reflection for you, think of the faces of those who love you, silently pleading for your relief. Envision us praying for you, focused, deliberate, and with great love.