What I know for sure:
• I am a daughter of the Master of the Universe (John 1:12).
• I am a Royal Princess.
• I am loved unconditionally and have accepted eternal life in Heaven.

These don’t change, even when I make mistakes, if I swear when I make a bad golf shot, or if I get feisty when someone talks poorly about my people. Some days I need to repeat these truths to myself, as a reminder of who I am and whose I am, when life feels out of whack.

Deep in my soul, I know God is Love. He is complete, Perfect Love. I also know that life is full of trials, giving us ample opportunities to suffer and grieve (John 16:31-33).

During times of troubles, God promises to be close to the broken-hearted (Psalm 34:18). This is the space I am writing from. Since the beginning of this month, I’ve realized a relationship was not as fruitful as I hoped, I’ve watched my beloved Labrador quickly waste away, and then, a teen and friend of my son was killed in a fatal car accident.

Life is weighty.

There are no guarantees for tomorrow.

And there are things I don’t know, and impossible questions to answer, like those in the texts and phone calls that follow: How can God do this? How can He allow the death of a teen and also a mother? Will they go to Heaven?

In the midst of these sufferings, I heard an encouragement:
“The opposite of love isn’t hate, it’s pain. And in the suffering, if we choose, we can experience God’s grace and perfect love.” It was an adaptation of CS Lewis’ “Megaphone of Pain” quote “God whispers to us in our pleasures, speaks in our conscience, but shouts in our pain” Chapter 6 of The Problem of Pain. Later in his career, Lewis describes grief as the shadow cast by love; to avoid the pain, one would have to have avoided the love itself.

I am brokenhearted from all of my losses, yet to varying levels of grief. I said the grief was over the past month, but with deeper reflection, each grief was on the heels of one another, all occurring within 5 days, from Monday until Friday.

In the relationship, I’m grieving a misaligned expectation that it was deeper than it was. Oh, the signs were there for years, but in hope and prayer, my reality was skewed. God met me, showed me the brokenness of the relationship, and why. This clearer view allowed the Holy Spirit to remove the rejection I felt. He was near and filled that gaping hole with perfect love:

“There is no fear in love, but perfect love casts out fear. For fear has to do with punishment, and whoever fears has not been perfected in love” (1 John 4:18 ESV).

A Labrador is part of the family. They are at your side from the moment you wake up until you go to bed. They lie at your feet, typically on your feet, at meals, and try to sit in your lap if you are courageous enough to sit on the floor. They are always happy. Always eager to go for a walk, a car ride, fetch a ball or twelve! They are lovable, yet fierce when an intruder or squirrel gets too close to the house. They protect babies in car seats, are available for snuggles when knees are scraped or hearts broken.

Our almost 10-year-old, Oak shared our son’s bedroom until a year ago. He only barked in excitement when a lacrosse ball was presented for the yard. He loved to catch a runaway chicken or two, go swimming, and on a few occasions he tried to “save” the kids, not understanding they were in a ready position to water ski.

It was in the stroking of his beautiful coat and feeling his ribs that we realized the quick weight loss he experienced, 13 pounds in a few weeks. We are grateful for the minimal suffering and the childhood memories he shared with our family. God was near to each of us. He allowed the suffering from Lymphoma to be quick, and for the timing to coincide with our college daughter being home to say goodbye. God comforted us as Oak stayed close by, getting more belly rubs and sprinkled with tears that he didn’t understand. Even in his sickness, he was playful and happy. On his last morning, tail wagging, wanting one more lacrosse ball thrown down the driveway.

I wouldn’t trade the heartache I feel from losing Oak if it meant not having him. To erase the joy he brought, the no longer stuffed animal shells littered around the house, even the nipping puppy marks. We are commanded to love, and the love of an animal gives us a glimpse of the unconditional love God has for humans.

This grieving is different from the first scenario. That was anger turned to forgiveness. This is sadness turned to gratitude. It’s the shadow cast by love.

If I can feel this love and loss from our family dog, imagine the depth of immense pain felt by the loss of a child. This third grief is heartbreaking and traumatic. It came with no warning. It happened quickly and will live on as an inflection point for all who experienced it. A fatal crash involving a teenager and a mother. Unimaginable for both families. My view is from the community surrounding the teen’s brother and family. The outpouring of love, prayer, and support. Classes shortened to allow time in the school chapel and grief counseling, support dogs brought on site to comfort, multiple gatherings welcoming God into spaces where He wasn’t previously welcomed.

I hear about kids not sleeping, not talking, and then a full roller coaster of emotions. We watch as some teens quickly step into roles of strength and prayer, ministering to others, prompting prayer circles, and times of remembering and laughing. That’s God and the Holy Spirit surrounding them, drawing them near, making sure, in their pain, they are witnessing the shadow of love given from their deceased friend.

Tears will continue as the community grieves the loss of life too soon. The family will suffer the most, as the void in the house, at the table, and in the unassigned but always the same seats taken in the car. I can’t imagine emptying the closet, cleaning out the backpack, and desk drawers of treasures. All these items will trigger memories and prompt loss of the future life not lived.

I pray the family and community will choose to experience God’s grace and perfect love. I pray they will draw near to Him, as He is waiting with arms open to comfort them. I pray they will seek His promises that stand up to all their anger, frustration, sadness, disappointment, and grief. The promises He has spoken and made true since the beginning of creation:

• God promises His love is everlasting and unchanging (Deuteronomy 7:9).
• God’s love endures forever (Psalm 136:1).
• He promises to answer prayers (Isaiah 65:24).
• He gives us peace (Philippians 4:6-7), strength (Isaiah 40:29-31), comfort (Revelation 21:4), and fills us with joy (Psalm 16:11).
• God promises to be with us always (Isaiah 43:2), never leave us (Deuteronomy 31:8).
• God promises our eternal life is secure (John 10:28-29).
• Jesus is the same yesterday, today, and tomorrow (Hebrews 13:8).

There are so many more promises that reflect His love, too many to list, but more for you to find.

The three examples of grief I share are different, with the third being full of anguish, and leaving a deep hole in life. Without these promises from God, without knowing you have eternal life to cling to, there is nothing left. There is no hope. There are no shadows. It’s all just empty loss. You can sit in the void, if that is your choice. Please know there is another option, one of perfect love that the Lord offers to make you whole.

For those who desire more of God’s love, make your list of I Knows, like the ones I started with. Don’t be content in your faith. Seek to know God more intentionally, desire deeper spirituality, and don’t take tomorrow for granted. If you want to know for sure if you are going to Heaven, you can by saying this prayer aloud today:

“Dear Lord Jesus, I know that I am a sinner and I ask for Your forgiveness. I believe You died on the cross for my sins and rose from the dead to give me life. I turn from my sins and invite You to come into my heart and life; I want to trust and follow You as my Lord and Savior. Thank You for Your grace and for the gift of eternal life. Amen.”