Grief Doesn't End After the Funeral: Tools to Help the Grieving

 Grief Doesn’t End After the Funeral

Tools to Help the Grieving
Part Two

      When it comes to tools there are two kinds of guys.  The guys that have all their tools organized or the guys that are constantly asking, where did I last see that wrench.  I used to be the later guy.  I would do a job and leave the drill, hammer, etc near where I finished the job.  But a problem would spring up each time a new job would arise, where did my drill go?  I have to admit something to you.  There was a time when my drill was so lost that I had to go to Lowes to buy another one.  I am now the proud owner of two Milwaukee drills.  I'm now on part with Hank Hill regarding my tool organizational skills.  They each have their place and they are labeled.  I also put my tools away where they belong at the end of each job.  I've learned my lesson.  There is something satisfying in putting a tool away.  It's like a runner crossing a finish line.  The job is done, the task is complete.

      Sometimes pastors put away their tools prematurely.  You might ask, what do you mean by that?  Let me give you an example.  A pastor visits a family prior to the funeral.  He might have spent time with them in the hospital, their home, their funeral home, etc.  He planned a message to glorify God and honor the deceased.  He comforted the family and counseled them as best as he could.  He probably preached a powerful message pointing people to Jesus, shared a few words at a graveside, maybe even chit chatted with some people at the mael after the service.  That night he can rest well knowing that he did a good job.  He can hang his tie up thinking, job well done pastor.  The problem is this, the job isn't done at the funeral.  Yes, the funeral is over, but grief isn't over for your parishioner  

      Your calling at a man of God is to walk with people for the long haul.  You need to be there when the flowers disappear, the casseroles stop arriving, the phone calls become less frequent, the sympathy cards are opened and put away, and when the house becomes eerily quiet.  Hear me, this is when your people need you the most.  This is when the realization of the loss probably starts sinking in.  This is when the brain turns off the overdose of adrenaline and loneliness begins to be felt in the deepest recesses of the soul.  During those first few weeks a person is typically surrounded by family, friends, church members, neighbors, and well wishers.  The fridge is full of food.  After Tiffanie died I found that my fridge could hold six lasagnas at the same time.  The phone will ring off the hook and the mailbox will be filled to the brim with cards.  But everyone eventually goes home.  They go back to their normal lives, and they leave the grieving person in their dust.  The brokenhearted then notices the empty chair, the empty side of the bed, their car in the driveway, an event on the calendar that was once planned for two.  The world beings moving forward for everyone while you feel as if the world came to a screeching halt.

      As a pastor you don't see those things nor do you feel them, but this presents one of the most important opportunities in grief ministry, not disappearing after the funeral.  The last article focused on the power of presence, and guess what, this one continues the same theme, but powerfully geared for those weeks after the bomb shell of grief hits.  This ministry matters more then the message that you preached at the funeral.  This ministry matters because it can showcase the dept of Christ's love and compassion for broken people, and you are the chosen vessel to show that love.

      Grief comes with a lot of assumptions.  One of those assumptions is that grief should somehow become easier once the funeral is finished.  I mean, wouldn't burying the person that you love be the worst moment.  It's got to get better from there.  You might not be saying that out loud, but I'm sure if you examined your actions you would find it to be true.  Raise your hand if you've been guilty of that?  See, grief is a lot of things, but the one thing that grief doesn't do is follow a calendar.  It doesn't give us warnings of when certain things are going to hurt, when depression will rear it's ugly head, nor will it send a letter in the mail letting you know that on a certain day it will be so unbearable that your anxiety will cripple you.  There isn't a date when someone should be 'over it.'  Read that again pastor.  Don't fall into the trap of thinking that a person will wake up one day over it.  There isn't a point where a widow or widower should stop missing their spouse.  There isn't a prescribed amount of time for a parent to grieve a child.  There isn't a deadline for a person to stop crying.  And there certainly isn't a spiritual maturity test that says, "If you really trust God, you shouldn't still be hurting."

      I want to go back to the text we were at in the last article because scripture gives us a very different picture then what the world says.  I give you a warning, this is going to sound somewhat redundant, but there is a reason for this repetition.  When Jesus stood outside the tomb of Lazarus, He knew what He was about to do. He knew Lazarus would live again.  And yet Jesus wept.  Jesus didn't rebuke Mary and Martha for their grief.  He entered into it.  That gives pastors an important picture of shepherding: sometimes our role isn't to help someone get out of their grief as quickly as possible.  I think that is one of the lessons that was wrongfully taught to me in Bible college or at least its what I took away from my classes.  It was somehow our job to help people get over their grief by giving verses.  But our role is simply to walk with our people through grief, not over grief.

      One of the most important things a pastor can communicate to a grieving person is: “I haven't forgotten you.”  Now let me say this, I know your plate is full as a pastor.  I had the joy of pastoring for thirteen years.  It's hard to juggle studying, preaching, teaching, visitations, meetings, and countless other things that are on your job description.  It's hard to balance that life, so I give you all the grace in the world.  But hear me out, make time for the grieving person in your congregation.  Even if it's just a fifteen minute visit.  That may seem simple, but it can mean everything. The first month is often filled with activity but that second month can feel painfully empty and be a doozy to say the least.  Remember them when firsts come about.  Holidays will be harder, Father's Day, Mother's Day, attending church will be difficult.  Try to make notes about who they are missing.  Things like their birthdays, when then passed away, their anniversary.  Try to be more present on those days.  Pastoral care cannot end at the graveside.

      Let me invite you into one of my deepest fears as a grieving man.  That people will stop using the name of Tiffanie.  Tiffanie was one of the most instrumental people in my life and it makes me sad to hear her name less and less over time.  It's hard to use her name in the past tense.  This past year I went to Crumbl Cookie on our anniversary.  I am not particularly fond of Crumbl.  I mean, I love their cookies but not the sugar overload and price.  I went for one reason and one reason only.  I knew that if I typed her name on the screen they would say it.  Hearing them say "Tiffanie" brought a huge smile to my face.  One of the greatest fears grieving people have is that their loved one will be forgotten.  Everyone else moves on.  That truth, while we know it will happen, almost strikes us with a whiplash type speed.  The world keeps going.  The planet keeps revolving.  Eventually people stop mentioning their name.  A pastor can provide a beautiful ministry simply by remembering.  They can say things like “Tell me something about John.”  “What was your favorite thing about her?”  “How are you doing with the anniversary coming up?”  “I remember you telling me how much your dad loved fishing.”  Those statements communicate something powerful:  “Your loved one mattered. And they still matter to me because they mattered to you.”  You don't have to avoid the name because you're afraid you'll remind someone of their grief.  Trust me, they haven't forgotten.  You're not creating the pain.  You're acknowledging the person they lost.  

      Let me share with you another piece of advice.  When you see the grieving person don't just ask “How are you?”  It's a normal question.  But grieving people often don't know how to answer it.  To be fair with you they are probably tempted to lie to you.  You might feel like "why would my parishioner lie to me?"  The reason why is simply, lying sometimes is easy then explain the truth of how they are really feeling.  They might tell you I'm fine with a smile but what's really going on behind the scenes is that they are barely surviving.  A simple "I'm doing okay today" might mean that they only cried for three hours last night instead of four.  Or the traditional "I'm hanging in there" would be better said as "I have no idea how I'm going to get through tomorrow."

      Pastor, you are good at investigating the Scripture.  You are a master at context and original languages.  You can maybe even alliterate a sermon or parse a Greek verb.  But we are terrible at examining a person's heart.  Instead of asking the most generic question of "how are you" instead consider asking more specific questions.  Questions like “How have the evenings been?”  “How are Sundays feeling?”  “What's been the hardest part this week?”  “Have there been any moments that caught you off guard?”  “What are you missing most right now?”  These questions give permission for an honest answer.  And when the answer comes, resist the temptation to immediately fix it.  Let me say this, it is not your job to fix their grief.  You might feel the temptation to do so, but it's not your job.  What is your job then?  Listen.

      A pastor constantly feels the need to have every answer, and let me be honest with you, pastors get asked some doozy of some questions.  I taught youth group for years and I often wondered where in the world did they get this from?  But here is a truth that you need to embrace as a servant of God, and it might be one of the most freeing truths for working with grieving people, you don't have to explain everything.  There will be questions you cannot answer.  You need to come to terms that questions like why did God allow this, or why didn't God heal her, or why did this happen to my family or where is God in all of this does not have a satisfying answer.  Giving a quick theological explanation might be in your wheelhouse but friend, it's not what they need.  They don't need a sermon or more platitudes.  Those things can make a grieving person feel like their pain has been dismissed.  So what can you say? Be honest.  If you don't know say "I don't know" or maybe acknowledge their hurt and loss with phrases like "I wish I understood that too" or "I know this hurts" or maybe the most powerful one, "I'm here with you."

      As a pastor you need to remember that grief doesn't only show up on major anniversaries or holidays.  It can show up on ordinary Thursday afternoons or that a song or a smell can bring back a memory.  Maybe even a song in church can cause a widow to leave the church service earlier because it's too painful to hear in the moment.  Those moments can happen without warning.  Grief ambushes the grieving person in that moment.  That's why you should be prepared for the occasional text or phone call when it's a harder day then normal.  Don't view the person an an inconvenience or a burden, instead view it as a sheep needing shepherded.  I think it's also wise to stay in contact with the grieving person.  Send them random texts or call out of the blue.  One of the texts that I send to the men that I work with is “I was thinking about you today. No need to respond. Just wanted you to know I'm praying for you.”

      Now we've been talking about adding tools to a pastor's toolbox.  Here are five practical tools pastors can use after the funeral.  These are things that I put into practice after I meet with a widower.  These are also things that I wished I would have done when I was pastoring.

     First, put reminders on your calendar.  Don't rely on memory.  Write down important dates like birthdays, anniversaries, date of death, reminders about certain holidays that might be more sensitive, or other family dates that seem important.  Put them into your phone's calendar and set a reminder to contact that person on those days.

      A second huge piece of advice is to check in when there is no crisis.  That might sound strange to you, but hear me out.  You don't know when that person is suffering or struggling.  Don't just call them when there is something wrong or you suspect that their heart might be heavier.  Sometimes the most meaningful text message you can send to someone is "Hey brother.  I just wanted to send you a text letting that I'm thinking of you and praying for you."  

      This is a huge one.  Give them permission to grieve differently and respect their grieving style.  How people grieve is as different as people themselves.  One person will be constantly crying.  Others will barely be crying.  Some people will want to talk for hours about their grief, others may simply want you to sit in silence.  Others might want to jump right back into work and routine.  Others may struggle to function.  One of the valuable lessons that I learned is that grief is deeply personal.  When you help a grieving person you are being invited into a sacred space in their life.  One in which you should never take for granted.

  Finally, please, I beg of you, keep showing up.  Be consistent.  You don't have to visit every week forever.  But remember that long-term grief ministry often consists of small moments of faithfulness.  It can be a quick phone call, a short text, a cup of coffee, a handwritten card, a simple prayer, remember their anniversary.  These small acts of presence showcase as profound acts of love.

      I want to conclude with a word picture from the 23rd Psalm.  The Psalm says “Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for thou art with me.”  I want you to pay attention to the language here.  It says THROUGH the valley.  Not around it, not under it, not over it, but instead through it.  It also doesn't say that 'through the valley' process with be immediate or instantaneous.  That's what the Good Shepherd does for His sheep.  We as pastors are called to mirror our Shepherd.  We are 'under shepherds' serving the flock that God gave us.  We aren't called to drag grieving people out of the valley.  Nope.  We are called to walk with them.  We go at their pace, we hear their heart, and we are unrelenting in our love for them while they face a war on their soul.

      Ultimately, we point them toward the Shepherd who never leaves them there alone.  The pastor's presence cannot remove grief.  Your sermon cannot erase the empty chair.  Your prayer cannot make the loss disappear.  I wish that it would, but none of those things are a magic wand that is waved over a situation making it better or go away.  But your faithfulness can communicate something deeply important, “You don't have to walk through this alone.”  And sometimes, that is exactly what a grieving person needs to hear.