Still Here, Still Hurting, Still His

When the Ache Lingers: Grieving with Faith

Grief lately has been … brutal. It’s more than sadness—it’s bone-deep exhaustion. It’s loneliness that lingers even in a crowd, and memories that ambush you—sometimes kindly, sometimes cruelly. I thought time would soften the edges, but instead the silence grows louder and the ache settles deeper.

Romans 11 reminds me God hasn’t stopped working. His faithfulness didn’t end when my mom’s life did. That truth matters, especially when my heart feels too tired to care. Faith in grief doesn’t always look strong. Sometimes it looks like whispering prayers through tears and trusting that fragile faith still counts.

Riding the Waves of Loss: A Christian Grief Journey

Grief is not linear; it’s chaotic and unpredictable. Some waves crash hard while others roll in gently. I’ve even laughed in this sorrow, then wondered if that joy was okay.

The Lord keeps nudging me—not to resist the grief but to ride it with hope. As Spurgeon said, “The sovereignty of God is the pillow upon which you lay your head.” I’m learning to rest my ache there, however clumsily.

More Than a Loss: When Grief Shakes Your Faith

I didn’t just lose my mother. I lost my anchor, my safe place, my home. Her absence echoes in everything. Can anything fill the space she left?

Tim Keller once wrote, “Christianity empowers its people to sit in the midst of this world’s sorrows, tasting the coming joy.” That’s what grieving with faith feels like—acknowledging sorrow while trusting in the promise of joy to come.

Wrestling with God’s Plan in Loss

Grief doesn’t mean I’ve lost faith; it means I’m learning to hold hope while everything unravels. Can I trust that God is still good when life feels like chaos?

Romans 11 offers no simple answers, only a bigger picture of mercy still unfolding. Maybe this season isn’t the end of my story—just a painful chapter in a larger, redemptive narrative. Dallas Willard said, “We must accept the circumstances we constantly find ourselves in as the place of God’s kingdom and blessing.” I don’t want to accept grief—but what if this pain is shaping me into someone deeper, someone more rooted in God?

Even when doubts roar, I remember: Even when I walk through silence, He is here—and that quiet promise steadies me for another step.

Worshiping Through Pain: Faith in Hard Times

“God doesn’t waste pain.” Though that doesn’t make grief easier, it helps me believe there’s meaning hidden inside it. Some days I feel like I’m drowning; other days I feel numb. John Piper said, “Christ is most magnified in us when we are most satisfied in Him in the midst of loss.” That’s the struggle—worshiping while bleeding, trusting while breaking.

Romans 11:33-36 reminds me I’m not meant to understand everything; I’m simply called to trust that God remains, even in sorrow.

Choosing to Keep Walking with God in Grief

There are days when moving forward feels impossible, not because I want to quit but because pretending I’m okay is exhausting. “Keep your eyes on Christ.” That whisper comes often. Moving forward doesn’t mean forgetting; it means believing God is still writing something meaningful, even now.

Joni Eareckson Tada said, “God permits what He hates to accomplish what He loves.” I don’t know what God’s doing with my grief, but I’m choosing to believe it’s good. Lord, give me strength to grieve honestly but not hopelessly.

Final Thought: Still Hurting, Still His—Still Holding Faith

Grief is real—but so is God. Even in the silence, He hasn’t left. Greg Laurie reminds me, “For the Christian, the end of life is not the end. It’s the beginning.” I believe I’ll see my mom again. Until then, I want to live like God is still near, still leading, still good. Maybe that’s where healing really begins.

Reflection
What does trusting God through grief look like for you? If He still has a purpose for you—even in this pain—will you keep walking in it?