Alpha and Omega. Judge. King of Kings. Sometimes in the bigness of who God is we forget the intimacy that can exist between the Creator and His creation. He can be perceived as an aloof spectator perched on a cloud, but as we pore through the pages of Scripture, we see that not only is He those larger-than-life, magnanimous things, but He is simultaneously our Shepherd and Friend (John 15:15); God with us (Isaiah 7:14); and, if we have put our faith and trust in Jesus Christ as Lord, He is our Daddy, our Abba Father. Each of these latter descriptions gives us a clear understanding of how God relates to us on an intimate, personal level. He cares for every detail of our lives. Matthew 6:26 gives us assurance of that very thing: “Look at the birds of the air; they do not sow or reap or store away in barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not much more valuable than they?”
Living with and navigating through a loss can feel like a valley we will never climb out of; so daunting and draining a task that we don’t even want to attempt it. But, there is something about grief and loss that is grounding. It forces you to get rid of or sift through all of the Christian fluff and niceties, and get to the nitty gritty of what this faith-walk is all about. It is an opportunity to experience full intimacy with our Heavenly Daddy and be a living testimony of His promises, and that He is faithful to fulfill them. When the core of who we are feels like it has been utterly destroyed by unspeakable, deafening, soul-shattering loss—the kind where you literally do not know how you will be able to survive even a minute because part of you has already died, or put one foot in front of the other, He. is. with. you. In the shower when you’re banging your fist against the tiles. In your bed when you’re sobbing and screaming into your pillow. In your car when you’re numbly driving around running errands that seem mundane and meaningless. He is not leaving you to navigate your grief alone, but navigate it you must. It is by no means an easy journey, but it is a worthy one. It is a purposeful one. Jesus bore your pain on the cross, and as He was resurrected, He and He alone is resurrecting you, one tear-filled prayer at a time.
Prayer:
Abba Father, you are my Rock and my Redeemer; my Counselor and Great I Am. You are worthy to be praised, spotless One, matchless King. As big as you are, Lord, you see me. You. See. Me. Sometimes that’s hard for me to wrap my head around, but your Word tells me that you love me and that I am valuable to you. Your Word says you have not left me. I confess, Lord, that sometimes I feel alone. I have allowed my grief to cloud my vision of you because even though you tell me you are good and that you work things together for my good, none of this feels good.
Your daughter seeks you, Lord. As I wrestle with reconciling my feelings and what you promise to be true, I seek you. I humbly ask for clarity, Lord; give me eyes to see beyond my momentary suffering and trust that You will not waste an ounce of my pain. I know that my own strength is not enough. Lord, you do give me more than I can bear because this is unbearable, but You fill me with YOUR strength. Remove anything from me, Lord, that is not of you: seeds of doubt, fear, anxiety, guilt. In the name of Jesus, the enemy has no place in my mind or in my spirit. I am Yours, Lord.
I need you every day, Lord. Help me put one foot in front of the other. Give me laughter, Lord. Oh, Lord, I miss laughter. Remind me that joy comes in the morning. Right now, it feels like the opposite. I anticipate the night when I can sleep because I don’t have to face my reality, and in the morning when I wake the wave of sadness crashes over me. As I ask for joy and strength I am reminded that Nehemiah tells me the joy of the Lord is my strength! Your strength is made perfect in my weakness, Lord! As you fill me anew, Lord, and carry me—I know you have not left me. Thank you, Lord, for being my Hiding Place and for loving me. In Jesus’ precious and Holy name, I pray, Amen.
rosario cintrón 
Reading this through tears. ❤️ There is so much truth here. Raw, gritty, God-with-us truth. Thank you for sharing your heart and providing a place for others to sit with their grief in the presence of God. ❤️
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That is one of my deepest desires; that people, particularly women, would begin to see processing grief and allowing themselves to sit in it as a blessing, as hard as it is, and to not let others’ discomfort with grief hurry them out of a season they need to linger in longer.
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