“Skipping the step of grieving even life’s minor paper cuts exempts us from experiencing Jesus’ nearness — the lines on His face, the tenderness in His voice, the feel of His callouses across our tear-streaked faces. Skipping the step of grieving prevents us from a measure of healing we’ll never know.”- Sara Hagerty
“The LORD is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit.”- Psalm 34:18 (NIV)
As Sara Hagerty moves on in Chapter 6 of The Gift of Limitations, she asserts that it’s not true that we become less through loss. Unless we allow the loss to make us less. Rather, loss can make us more. Because we get the comfort of God when we grieve. Above all, Sara stresses, this is not small.
Yet, Sara observes, we work hard to avoid the experience of loss. As a result, we stand on our heads to ensure that loss isn’t the end of our stories. But, the author wonders, what if loss also represents a beginning? Because in grief, you get the arms of God.
However, we fail to grieve because we find it inconvenient to pause the ‘mission’ of our lives. So, this approach evades grief at every turn, instead of finding its:
- gold.
- power to change our perspective on God.
- ability to finally (finally) dismantle fear.
- potential to fold us into Jesus’ chest, to make a child out of us.
In conclusion, Sara counsels:
“We judge our griefs harshly if we decide that few warrant real tears. . . . All the minor aches that ‘don’t warrant’ more than a moment of grief accrue until they surface. . . . Some of us coach ourselves with Scripture we don’t allow to touch our aching hearts — it merely penetrates our minds — and we still come out dissatisfied.
We also manhandle the minor grievances of life like this until it becomes a habit. Pushed into a dark corner of our minds, drowned out by noise, relegated to the bottom of never-ending to-do lists — unthinking, we suffocate our sobs and talks ourselves out of tears.”
Today’s question: Do you allow time to grieve the minor paper cuts of life? Please share.
Tomorrow’s blog: “Rambling river of reprieve”
