The Power of Music to the Grieving Heart

The Power of Music to the Grieving Heart

      The Lord has blessed me with many different gifts and talents.  I love teaching, preaching, and spending time with people.  One gift that I do not have is the gift of music, namely singing.  If you are close to me then you probably chuckled when you read that.  I am a notoriously bad singer.  I've been known to bring people to tears, and no in a good way.  I've also tried to play musical instruments (piano and ukulele) all of which has caused me to not quit my day job.  My first wife Tiffanie was an excellent singer.  He and my children would sing together at churches.  My current wife Leslie also is a great singer, and she's gifted at playing the guitar.  God seems to have given the two loves of my life all the musical talent and left me with none.  I'm the guy that uses the verse (maybe abuses) that all God wants is joyful sound.  It sounds joyful to Him, but not for the audience of people near me.

      Music has never been deeply ingrained in my life.  I don't recall many moments where music was on in my house.  I also have no memories of my mom or dad singing.  The first time I learned about the power of music was in high school.  I was a depressed teenager who fueled my depression through sad music.  It was amazing to see the inner, emotional reaction to music.  The next moment when music was etched in my heart was during Tiffanie's cancer journey.  The day that she found out she had an incurable, stage four cancer was such a heavy day, but not heavy enough to silence Tiff's voice.  That night she sang "The Goodness of God."  Music became both of our therapies.  We would listen for comfort and to feel the nearness of God.  Sometimes the music gave us hope, other times it crushed our hearts.  I can't tell you how many songs we played back and forth to each other while she battled cancer.

      Grief can settle into quiet corners of the heart, into long drives, empty rooms, and late nights when everything feels heavier than it should.  And in those spaces, music often becomes more than background noise, it becomes a companion, or at times, an enemy.  The relationship between music and grief is complicated.  Sometimes it hurts, sometimes it heals, sometimes it does both.  There are songs that can bring you to your knees within seconds, ones that only the inner recesses of the mind have held.  They are the ones tied to memories you didn’t realize were still so raw. A melody plays or you hear parts of a song and suddenly you’re back in a moment: a car ride, a laugh, a conversation, a goodbye you didn’t know was coming. Those songs can feel almost unbearable. They reopen wounds you were just beginning to learn how to live with, and just like that grief ambushed you again.

      And yet… those same songs can also be sacred.  Because they remind you that love was real. That what you had mattered. That your story didn’t end, it changed.  Music has a unique ability to give grief a voice.  When you can’t find the words to pray, when your heart feels too tired to speak, a song can step in and carry what you cannot. It can cry for you, sometimes it alone can open up the flood gates of your tears. It can remember for you. It can even hope for you.

      For those walking through grief as believers, worship music holds a different kind of power.  Let me be honest with you, worship can feel incredibly hard after loss.  I started preaching a few weeks after Tiff passed away, but I couldn't sing.  I just couldn't raise my voice yet. Singing about God’s goodness when your world feels shattered can feel almost dishonest, or fake, almost like going through the motions. Words like faithful, provider, and healer can catch in your throat. You may find yourself standing in a church service, surrounded by voices lifted high, while yours stays silent, and friend, there is nothing wrong with that.  God doesn't want forced worship.  Sometimes the loudest worship comes from silent lips.

      Charles Spurgeon once said that when grief presses you to the ground worship God there. Worship in grief often looks different. It may not be loud. It may not be confident. Sometimes it’s just sitting quietly while a song plays, letting the truth wash over you even if you don’t fully feel it yet.  Those moments may be some of the most genuine acts of worship you ever offer because it removes the facade off of your worship.  There is no show when you choose to worship God in the middle of heartbreak.  You are choosing to remain in God’s presence when everything in you wants to pull away.

      Music becomes a bridge in those moments. It connects your pain to God’s presence.  Read that again and contemplate it. It reminds you of truth when your emotions are telling you something else. It gently pulls your focus, even if just for a few minutes, from what you’ve lost to Who is still holding you.

      With all of this in mind I want to challenge you to do something.  Create a playlist.  Not just any playlist but one that is intentional.  We aren't talking about Casey Kasem's top twenty hits or todays most popular song.  We aren't even talking about your favorite music per say.  You are building a collection of songs that honor your spouse. Songs that remind you of your life together, the love you shared, the moments that still matter. Don’t be afraid of those songs. Yes, they may hurt.  Ok, whose kidding you, they will hurt, but they also help you remember, and remembering is part of healing.  Then, begin adding songs that draw you closer to the Lord.  Songs of truth.  Songs of lament.  Songs of quiet hope.  Songs that speak when you can’t.

      My hope is that this playlist becomes a tool.  That it becomes something you can return to on the hard days (and there will be hard days). It gives structure to moments that feel chaotic and everything is falling apart. It gives your heart somewhere to go when it doesn’t know what it needs.  And over time, you may begin to notice something: The songs that once only brought pain begin to carry a different weight. Not less emotion, but more depth. More meaning. Even glimpses of gratitude as the focus turns to the Lord.  The song isn't mean to erase your hurt.  The goal of walking a grief journey isn't to take away the hurt, but instead to reshape it.

      So don’t underestimate the power of music in your grief journey. Be mindful of it. Lean into it. Let it serve you, even when it’s uncomfortable, even when its hard, even when it makes tears fall.  And when worship feels hard, because it will, don’t walk away from it.  Instead listen to it and let it hold you when all your strength seems to be gone.  God is not waiting for a perfect song from you.  He is near to the brokenhearted, even in the silence, even in the tears, even in the songs you can barely get through.  And sometimes… especially in those moments…the music is where healing begins.