Grief has a way of building pressure until an ordinary moment sets it loose. When the tears finally come, God meets you right where you stand with a promise: mourning, crying, and pain will not last forever.
By Dianna Hobbs
Grief can rise like a wave without warning, but the God who sees every tear has promised to wipe each one away.
I woke up this morning with no pain in my left hip. Won't He do it? The pain in my heart, on the other hand, was another story. It was just after 5 AM. All was quiet in the house as I stood in the kitchen making a cup of coffee. Suddenly, grief began swelling in the seas of my heart, rising from the depths until the wave stood taller than me and completely enveloped me.
I grabbed the kitchen island for stability as my knees weakened beneath me.
Oh, the hurt.
I miss my brother Chris something awful.
Today marks one year since he passed away. I knew this day was coming, but nothing quite prepares you for the way grief can overtake you in the middle of an ordinary moment.
Maybe you know that kind of moment. You were fine at the stove, in the car, or in the checkout line. Then a song, a date on the calendar, or a smell drifting from somebody's kitchen brought it all back. Suddenly you found yourself holding on to the nearest steady thing.
If so, friend, pull up a chair. What God showed me this morning is for you, too.
Looking back, I had felt the heaviness gathering in my chest.
Then came the release.
As I stood there, overwhelmed with emotion, a memory came flooding back of an old pressure cooker my parents used. They made neckbones in it for homemade dressing and fall-off-the-bone-tender ribs for the church dinners they sold.
One day, someone forgot to adjust the pressure. It built so high that the top blew off, spraying hot liquid everywhere, even onto the ceiling. Thank God no one was in the kitchen to receive that boiling shower!
The flashback was so vivid, it felt like someone had put me in a time machine and dropped me right back in that old kitchen, with the plywood floors Daddy hadn't finished yet from his DIY renovation.
And right then, I understood.
Just like that pressure cooker, something had been building inside me. The weight of grief had become so great that it needed somewhere to go.
The Lord knows my brain is slower and more easily confused since my traumatic brain injury. So He reached for a picture from my own childhood, one He knew would make perfect sense to me. He is kind like that. He knows how to reach each of us right where we are.
The lid came off, and God met me in the mess. He let the tears come. Then I heard His voice in surround sound, right there in my kitchen, with my heart breaking:
"And God shall wipe away all tears from their eyes; and there shall be no more death, neither sorrow, nor crying, neither shall there be any more pain: for the former things are passed away" (Revelation 21:4, KJV).
God spoke a promise right into my grief.
Tears may stain the walls of this life, but God has promised to wipe away every one.
John received that promise on the island of Patmos and wrote it down for churches facing persecution and suffering. They were hurting as well. In his vision of a new heaven and a new earth, a voice announces that God will dwell with His people. God Himself will wipe every tear from their eyes.
John uses three Greek words for what God will abolish: penthos, mourning or grief over loss; kraugē, crying out in distress; and ponos, pain or suffering.
I faced all three before my coffee finished brewing. I suspect you know at least one of them by name.
Maybe you are mourning someone, as I am. Maybe yours is a cry of distress over a child, a marriage, or a diagnosis. Maybe yours is a pain that greets you every morning. Whichever one has found you, hear this: God has put an end date on it. All three will cease to exist in His new creation.
Isaiah saw it centuries before John did. He tied the wiping away of tears to the day God swallows up death in victory.
Death took my brother a year ago today. It does not get the last word over him, over me, or over anyone who belongs to Jesus. The One seated on the throne declares in Revelation 21:5, "Behold, I make all things new."
Until that day, let the tears come when they come. Grief and faith can stand in the same kitchen. We cry with hope, knowing God has already promised to wipe away every tear we shed.
To remind you of the glorious future awaiting believers in Christ, I'm stirring Romans 8:18 into your cup of inspiration as today's sweetener: "For I reckon that the sufferings of this present time are not worthy to be compared with the glory which shall be revealed in us." (KJV)
And as you drink down the contents of your cup, know this: Whatever suffering you are enduring today, there is a glory awaiting you that far exceeds it. Through Jesus Christ, you have the promise of resurrection, redemption, and eternal life in God's presence. The same power that raised Jesus from the dead is at work in you, and the God who began a good work in you will bring it to completion.
I woke up this morning with no pain in my left hip. One morning, I will wake up with no pain anywhere, and if you belong to Jesus, so will you. No grief swelling in the seas of the heart. No knees giving way at the kitchen island. No pressure building under any lid.
I will see my brother again, and God Himself will have wiped the last tear from my face.
Won't He do it? Yes, He will.
Now, let's pray.
God, thank You for seeing every sorrow I carry, every tear I have cried, and every burden weighing on my heart. Your Word declares in Psalm 56:8, "You keep track of all my sorrows. You have collected all my tears in your bottle. You have recorded each one in your book." (NLT)
Thank You for loving me through the hurt, being mindful of me, and comforting me through the power of Your Holy Spirit. Until the day You wipe every tear away, please strengthen me and continually fill my heart with confidence in Your promises.
In Jesus' name, Amen.
