The Coming Storm
Preparing for the Storm You Can See Coming
I had never heard the phrase anticipatory grief prior to 2024. To be fair with you grief was a word that was rarely used in my vocabulary and almost always used to describe someone else's circumstances, not my own. Anticipatory grief is grief before death actually comes. It is grieving over a still living spouse, coming to a realization that time is quickly running out. It is a kind of grief that begins long before the loss itself. It settles in quietly when the diagnosis is spoken, when the treatments begin, when the future you imagined starts to feel uncertain. This is anticipatory grief—and for many men, it can feel confusing, isolating, and overwhelming. This grief is both unfair and a blessing at the same time. It's unfair because you have to bear a heavy burden that you cannot carry on your own outside of the grace of God. But it is also a blessing because it gives you a chance to take care of the person you love and cherish the last few memories that you can. It gives you grace for a slow good bye that is marked by incredible heartache, but also tremendous joy.
I'm writing about this because two years ago Tiff went into the hospital with what we thought was pneumonia or some breathing problem. Never in a million years could I have envisioned that she had an advanced, aggressive, rare stage four cancer. I had no idea that my life was about to unravel and fall apart at my feet. I had never once thought of being a widower. When my wife Tiffanie was battling cancer, I remember realizing that the storm was coming long before it arrived. It was such a sobering realization and terrified. I was still a husband. Still a father. Still serving in ministry. But beneath all of that, there was a constant ache, a growing awareness that life might not turn out the way I was praying it would. I loved her deeply, believed God could heal her, and yet I also felt fear, sorrow, and exhaustion creeping in. Holding all of that at once was heavy. I was literally falling apart on the inside and had no idea what to do, say, feel, think, or even pray. I had ten months of goodbyes until Jesus called my beloved home, and while I'm grateful I can honestly admit that it was that most exhausting time of my life.
If you are walking this road right now, I want you to know something important: your grief does not mean you lack faith. I wrestled with that for a long time. I thought that intense grief meant lack of faith, and nothing could be further from the truth. Loving deeply means grieving deeply, even before the loss occurs. Scripture never asks us to pretend the storm isn’t real. Instead, it invites us to prepare our hearts while anchoring them to God.
Jesus told His disciples, “In this world you will have trouble. But take heart! I have overcome the world.” He didn’t deny the coming pain. He named it and then pointed to hope beyond it. Notice that Jesus didn't say that you might have trouble or that you could have trouble. He said you will have trouble. In a sin cursed world trouble exists, including the trouble of losing someone we love. Christians are not immune to cancer, death, and sorrow.
We are getting ready to have a snow storm in Pennsylvania. It looks like it could be a big one. People are already buying bread, milk, eggs, and toilet paper. But how do we prepare for the coming storm of death and grief? Preparing for the storm doesn’t mean bracing yourself alone, though at times it can feel incredibly lonely. It means being honest with God about your fear. It means letting trusted brothers walk with you. It means learning to grieve in healthy ways while still showing up for your family. And it means trusting that even if the worst comes, God will still be present in the aftermath. I want you to read this paragraph again and make note of what spoke to you, what you need right now in this moment. Don't just read it, but practice it.
I didn’t know how my story with Tiff would end. But I learned that God was already meeting me in the grief before the loss, strengthening me one day at a time. God gave me a special grace that I needed during that season, a grace that I don't need today like I did, but a grace that I appreciate none the less. If the storm is on your horizon, you don’t have to pretend you’re okay, and you don’t have to face it alone. The Lord is with you and I'm with you. Grant me permission to step into your life to provide you with a safe place where you can share your heart, fears, grief, struggles, doubts, etc. I would love to walk with you during this journey. Please feel free to email me at sonsoftheshepherd.ministry@gmail.com or visit my social media page:
https://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=61585277199715
Reflection Questions
When did I first realize the “storm” was coming in my own life? What emotions surfaced that I may not have named or shared yet?
Who are the trusted men in my life that I could invite into this season—men who can listen without trying to fix me?
What does trusting God look like for me right now—not after the storm, but in the middle of waiting?
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