Nobody Teaches You How to Grieve (How Do You Navigate Loss?)

Grief hits hard. Like Mike Tyson at 25 kind of hard. And it doesn’t politely send you a text asking for an appointment. “Nope, sorry Grief, I don’t have time to stare out the office window and cry this morning. I have a 10:00 staff meeting.” Whether your loss is from death, breakup, or betrayal, grief comes in its own time.

I know several people, young and active, who have recently suddenly passed away. Just out of nowhere. They’ve left families, kids, people who not only loved them dearly but relied on them. So, what happens now? What’s next?

Understand That God Grieves Too

Here’s the ugly truth: grief doesn’t follow a polite five-step checklist. I don’t care what any book says about “denial, anger, bargaining, depression, acceptance.” In real life, you can hit all five before breakfast and then circle back again by lunch. Grief is messy. It leaks into your work emails, your worship songs, even your grocery store runs. And just when you think you’ve got a handle on it, something small like hearing their favorite song or smelling their cologne on a stranger takes you right back under.

But here’s what I want you to hear: grief is not a failure of your faith. It is not proof that you don’t trust God enough. Grief is the cost of love, and Scripture never shames us for feeling it. In fact, John 11:35 tells us something staggering in just two words: “Jesus wept.” He wept at the tomb of His friend Lazarus, even though He knew He was about to raise him from the dead. Jesus wasn’t crying out of hopelessness; He was stepping right into the raw pain of loss, standing with Mary and Martha, feeling their profound loss and pain with them. He quietly and sorrowfully cried with these two women whom He loved. This was personal, intimate sorrow from Jesus. It’s the same sorrow that He shares with us when we are in the midst of loss and pain.

You Don’t Just Get Over It

What makes grief harder, though, is the pressure to “get over it.” People don’t mean to be cruel, but when they say things like, “They’re in a better place,” or “At least you had the time you did,” it can feel like sandpaper on an open wound. You try to smile through it, knowing they only mean well. But even Paul said in 1 Thessalonians 4:13 that Christians grieve, yet not without hope. We still cry, still ache, still feel the empty chair at the dinner table. But woven into our tears is the thread of eternity, the reminder that death isn’t the end of the story.

And what about the losses that aren’t death? The breakup that gutted you. The friend who betrayed you. The future you thought you’d have that vanished overnight. Grief doesn’t just belong at funerals. It shows up in all the little deaths too—the “no longer” and the “never again.” David knew that pain. Read through the Psalms and you’ll hear the sound of a man who wailed, complained, even asked God why He had gone silent. Psalm 34:18 says, “The Lord is near to the brokenhearted and saves the crushed in spirit.” Near. Not distant. Not waiting for you to get yourself together. Right there in the middle of your crushedness.

Where Do You Go From Here?

So what do you do with grief? Honestly, sometimes the best thing you can do is stop trying to “do” anything with it. Let it breathe. Let yourself feel it. Cry when you need to cry. Laugh when you unexpectedly laugh. Don’t try to stuff it down or dress it up. Invite God into it, even if your prayer sounds more like a groan than a hymn. Romans 8:26 says the Spirit intercedes with “groans too deep for words.” That means even your wordless tears count as prayer. That’s when we need it, and Him, the most.

And please, don’t try to carry it alone. Find safe people who can handle your grief without rushing in to “fix it.” You don’t need a motivational speaker when your heart is in pieces. You don’t need anyone to try and “cheer you up.” You need someone who can sit quietly with you, maybe pass the tissues, maybe just nod, and remind you that you’re not crazy for still hurting. Ecclesiastes 4:9-10 reminds us that two are better than one because if one falls, the other can help them up. That’s not just for marriage; it’s for friendship, for community, for those seasons when you don’t have the strength to stand at all.

Here’s where I want to land with you: grief doesn’t shrink your faith. It stretches it. It forces you to lean harder on the God who calls Himself the “God of all comfort” in 2 Corinthians 1:3-4. He comforts us not by erasing our pain, but by walking with us through it. One day, Revelation 21:4 says He will wipe every tear from our eyes, and death itself will be no more. But until then, every tear you cry is noticed, every ache is heard, and every broken piece of your heart is held in hands big enough to carry it.

Grief is a big one, and I know I haven’t covered all you may be feeling. So, why don’t you use this space to share a bit about your experience? Drop a comment below—how are you coping? Are you coping? What does holding onto your faith in grief mean to you? Share your story and help others (and maybe yourself) find their way through.

☕ May you have a little faith, a little courage, and a whole lot of stubborn joy (even in the middle of the pain). – Tonya