Confronting the Thief That Took My Mom

The pain of losing my mom is still fresh. I’m stuck on this relentless roller coaster of emotions—anger, sadness, confusion—all mixed into one. Each day, the pain morphs into something new. Sometimes it’s a crushing weight on my chest; other times, it’s like a violent storm I can’t control. I keep asking myself: Who am I really angry at? Am I angry at God for not stepping in? At the unfairness of it all? Or is it at my family members, who have consistently made things worse? Maybe it’s at the friends who didn’t show up when I needed them most, or those who offered empty platitudes and insensitive comments. Am I mad at everyone who failed to understand the depth of my grief?

But then, it dawned on me—my anger is directed at something far more sinister. I’m angry at death. Death is the enemy here. It’s the thief that tore my mom from me, the invader that robbed me of the people who should still be here. It’s not the circumstances or the people; it’s death itself. And in a way, that makes it even more infuriating. How do I fight an enemy that’s already been declared defeated but still keeps causing havoc in my life?

Redirecting the Rage: Understanding Death as the Final Enemy

The Bible calls death “the last enemy” (1 Corinthians 15:26), and that’s exactly what it feels like—an enemy that keeps winning battles even after the war was supposed to be over. I know the Bible says that Christ has already conquered death, but right now, that victory feels distant. How can death be defeated when I’m left here picking up the pieces? The people around me, the ones who were supposed to be my support, only add to the pain sometimes. The family members who never showed up for me, the friends who drifted away when I needed them most, and those who made thoughtless comments—they aren’t the enemy. They’re just casualties of it. The real enemy is death itself. It’s the thing that’s torn my world apart and left me angry and aching. But where do I direct that anger?

This question haunts me because it’s so much bigger than just grief. It’s about confronting the brutal reality that even though death is defeated in Christ’s resurrection, it still leaves deep scars. Dallas Willard once said that true discipleship is about “bumping into reality”—acknowledging that the world is still broken even when we’re holding onto hope.” I get that, but right now, it’s hard to hold onto that hope when the pain still feels so fresh.

Finding God in the Anger

It’s not easy to face this kind of pain head-on. I find myself wanting to blame someone—anyone—for what’s happened. But then I realize, blaming the people around me, or even God, doesn’t get me anywhere. It just leaves me more frustrated, more alone. It’s taken me a long time to admit that I’m not really mad at God; I’m mad at death. Death is the one that’s left this gaping hole in my life. Death is the one that stole my mom from me. So I start to ask myself: If I’m angry at death, where do I take that anger?

Dallas Willard would say that “pain is what happens when we confront reality—that reality being a world that’s still broken and in need of redemption.” But it’s hard to let that truth sink in when I’m standing in the middle of the wreckage, missing my mom every day. The Bible says that Christ conquered death, but I still feel like I’m in the aftermath of a battle that’s not over yet. So what do I do with this anger? How do I fight back against something that’s already been defeated yet keeps showing up, leaving scars and wounds that seem like they’ll never heal?

Christ Wept Too: Seeing Jesus’ Anger at Death

There’s a strange kind of comfort in knowing that even Jesus, the Son of God, stood at the tomb of a friend and wept (John 11:35). He knew that He was going to bring Lazarus back to life, yet He still felt the full weight of grief. He didn’t brush it aside or try to explain it away. He faced it head-on. Tim Keller put it best: “Christ literally walked in our shoes”. If He could weep at death’s cruelty, maybe it’s okay for me to do the same. Maybe feeling this depth of pain doesn’t mean I lack faith—it means I’m sharing in Christ’s own heartbreak over what death has done to His creation.

Seeing Jesus respond that way changes something for me. It’s almost like He’s telling me, “I’m angry, too.” He’s not distant, watching me struggle from a safe place. He’s right here in the trenches with me, feeling the same rage and sorrow, because He knows death is an enemy that still wreaks havoc, even though its days are numbered. That’s the tension I’m learning to live in: the now-and-not-yet reality of Christ’s victory. Death is defeated, but it’s still causing pain.

Learning to Trust God in the Pain

So what do I do now? I’m still figuring it out. I’m still hurting. But I’m starting to see that there’s a difference between destructive anger and righteous anger. Destructive anger makes me want to shut down, turn away from God, and isolate myself. Righteous anger, though, can be a catalyst—fuel that drives me closer to God, to the truth that He has already won. It’s not about burying the pain or pretending everything’s okay. It’s about letting that pain push me closer to the One who has already defeated this enemy.

Dallas Willard often spoke about “abandonment to God”—the idea of letting go of our need to control outcomes and trusting that God holds us, even when everything is falling apart. That’s where I’m trying to get to. Slowly but surely, I’m learning to trust Him in the middle of my brokenness, even when it feels like He’s nowhere to be found.

Final Reflection: Holding onto the Truth

At the end of the day, death is still the enemy, but it’s not the victor. Christ is. That doesn’t take away the pain, but it does give it a new perspective. I may not understand why things happened the way they did, but I’m learning that my anger is not against God—it’s against the enemy He’s already conquered. And that’s where the hope lies.

So, where does this leave me? Still angry, still hurting, still missing her more than words can say. But also clinging to the hope that death isn’t the end. It’s not the final word. Jesus is. And as long as I keep turning to Him, even when I’m raging inside, I know He’s not going anywhere. He’s with me, in the anger, in the confusion, and He’s holding me through it all.

Reflection Question:

Where is your anger taking you? Is it pushing you away from God or drawing you closer to the One who’s already defeated the real enemy?

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