When called to bear your weighty cross
Or sore affliction, pain, or loss,
Or deep distress or poverty,
Still as your days your strength shall be.
– John Fawcett
Dear bereaved parent,
I wanted to write this letter to you. I want to remind you that you are not forgotten. If you are in Christ, you have the all-seeing, sympathizing eye of your Saviour upon you. He is near to the broken hearted and the crushed in spirit (Ps. 34:18). My friend, there are no words to adequately describe what you are going through right now. The words of John Fawcett’s hymn, Afflicted Saint, To Christ Draw Near, rings true to your heart. You feel this weighty cross. The throbbing affliction, pain, and loss of your child penetrates your soul. The deep distress you have been placed under seems to never end at times. The horror of burying your child in the grave is a horror that comes with a crushing blow. After losing his son in infancy, theologian R. L. Dabney wrote, “Ah! When the mighty wings of the angel of death nestles over your heart’s treasures, and his black shadow broods over your home, it shakes the heart with a shuddering terror and a horror of great darkness.”[1] In his book, From Grief to Glory, James W. Bruce writes: “When small coffins are placed in the ground, more than the body is buried. Parents also bury all the hopes and dreams they had for those children. The mother buries the lullabies she would have sung, the little clothes, the first day at school; the father buries the baseball glove and thoughts of playing catch — all the things they see other parents doing and had hoped to do with their own sons and daughters.”[2]
In 2022, as Dabney put it, “the angel of death nestled over [our] heart’s treasures.” On April 28, 2022, our precious son Isaac passed away in his infant days. That day, the Lord brought us into a new circle of friends, which is called “The Sacred Circle of the Sorrowing.” In his book, Seasons of Sorrow, Tim Challies describes this group of bereaved pilgrims:
“If you have lost a child, you are not alone. After Theodore Cuyler’s child passed away, “he was ushered into “the sacred circle of the sorrowing,” a community made up of fellow sufferer … He had not been invited into the circle or asked if he wished to join. Rather, Providence had directed him to be part of it, and he had chosen to submit, to bow the knee… I would never wish it on anyone to join this circle, this club, for the membership fee is at the death of a child and the dues are a broken heart. Yet priceless consolation comes to those who have joined, for we know that none of us need ever stand alone”[3]
If you are new to this “sacred circle”, I want to remind you of one reality. God is good, even when you don’t see it or cannot sense it. As the hymn writer once said, “When darkness veils His lovely face, I rest on His unchanging grace.” There will be many days in your grief when the darkness of bereaving will “veil” His lovely face. With William Cowper, you will feel that “frowning providence” at times, and you may not see His “smiling face.” Beloved sufferer, in your season of sorrow, you must “rest on His unchanging grace.” The apostle Paul urged Timothy in 2 Timothy 2:8 to “Remember Jesus Christ, risen from the dead, the offspring of David, as preached in my gospel.” You must remember that “Jesus Christ is the same yesterday and today and forever” (Heb. 13:8). One of the most helpful truths that reinforces this reality comes from Jonathan Gibson in his book, The Moon is Always Round. Gibson reminds us that just as the moon is always round, even when we cannot see it, so too is God’s goodness. God is good even when we cannot see it. Maybe tonight you will look up at the moon, and find it covered with clouds. But you know the truth that the moon is still round, even if you can’t see its roundness. May that be a helpful lesson to you in your grief. When the tears make it hard to understand God’s goodness in your bereavement, remember that He is still good, even when you don’t see it or can’t sense it.
How do we know that God is good, even in the darkest of circumstances? Well, we look to the cross of our Lord Jesus Christ. During the darkest hour of human history, our Triune God was up to the greatest good. For three hours, our Lord hung on the cross in utter, supernatural darkness, as He bore our sins and the just wrath of God for our sins. In His humanity, Christ was forsaken from the Father in our stead so that all who trust in His beloved son would never be eternally forsaken. That is good news! In the darkest hour of human history, God was up to the greatest good, namely, the accomplishment of our redemption. As we gaze at the cross of Jesus Christ, we begin to understand more of what the apostle Paul had to say in Romans 8:32: “If He who did not spare his own Son but gave him up for us all, how will he not also with him graciously give us all things?” If my God brought about the greatest good for me on the darkest day of human history, namely, my eternal redemption, then I can say with the apostle Paul, even when I don’t see it, that “we know that for those who love God all things work together for good, for those who are called according to his purpose” (Rom. 8:28).
Dear bereaved parent, as I conclude, my only advice to you is that you must run to Jesus Christ and daily sit at His feet in your affliction. He is the only one who can truly sympathize with you. On this earth, He was known as “a man of sorrows” and “acquainted with grief” (Is. 53). He was a Saviour who wept at the graveside of his dear friend Lazarus (John 11). Fall into His arms. Be well acquainted with the lament Psalms. Our Lord has given you a category to pour out your griefs and pains to Him in lament. Though the darkness you are experiencing may rest upon you for some time, remember your blessed hope, given to you by grace, through faith, in Christ: On that final Day, “the sun of righteousness shall rise with healing in its wings” (Malachi 4:2).
As I wrap things up, I want to briefly bring you to the year 1774. After a hard season of sorrow, John Newton wrote a letter to his friend John Ryland Jr. In this letter, Newton laid open to Ryland his current season of sorrow and his blessed future hope. Newton writes: “Do you ask how it is with me? Just as the weather is this morning. My heart is cold as the snow under foot, and cloudy as the sky over my head. Not a beam of sunshine, but it is a mercy to have daylight. It will not be always winter, thought it has been a long winter with me.”[4] Since our faith is in the finished work of Jesus Christ, we can say with Mary B. Peters:
We expect a bright tomorrow; All will be well;
Faith can sing through days of sorrow, All, all is well.
On our Father’s love relying, Jesus every need supplying, Or in living, or in dying, All must be well.
Yours Truly,
A Fellow Servant in Christ’s Army
[1] Thomas Cary Johnson, The Life and Letters of Robert Lewis Dabney (Edinburgh: Banner of Truth, 1977).
[2] James W. Bruce III, From Grief to Glory (Edinburgh: Banner of Truth, 2008), 29.
[3] Tim Challies, Seasons of Sorrow (Zondervan, 2022) ), 128-129.
[4] John Newton, Wise Counsel: John Newton’s Letters to John Ryland, Jr. (Edinburgh, Banner of Truth).
