Grieving feels pretty commonplace these days, doesn't it? Tangible or intangible, we're a grieving world. We're grieving the loss of "pre-COVID" life. Loss of loved ones. Injustice. The loss of a job.

As pastors, we are with people in their brightest moments (baptism, marriage, baby dedication, etc.) and their darkest hours. I've held people moments after the death of their loved one and I've gotten coffee with those same people six months later. Grief looks different at each of those moments but is nonetheless present. We vacillate between denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and acceptance. 

Many times I find myself questioning my role when someone near to me starts into that grief cycle. What do I say? What don't I say? And an even more important question: What would Jesus do if He were here? Perhaps you're asking the same questions. I believe there's a vital part of comforting people that we can't forget and in fact, Jesus modeled Himself. 

Empathy: the ability to understand the feelings of another. It's both a word and a practice. So how do we empathize with someone close to us who is thrown into the grief cycle? Here are some things I've learned through my years as a pastor: 

Validate the emotion, not the conclusions.

Apply empathy for their feelings. You can validate someone's pain without having to endorse or agree with the conclusions they draw from their feelings. In grief, we're tempted to ask, "Why God?" and doubt his faithfulness, provision, goodness, or sovereignty. 

Here's a hard-to-hear, but necessary truth: Even if God were to draw everything out as to why He does what He does, it wouldn't bring the person back, change the circumstance, or heal sickness. God knows we don't need someone to help us understand our suffering, we need someone who understands our suffering to be with us in it. It can be somewhat comforting when people try to encourage us in suffering. But it is truly comforting when someone encourages us who has "been there" and knows exactly what it is like. There is no suffering that God has not Himself allowed Himself to go through.

Tears need truth.

Empathy is a mix of both tears and truth. We weep with those who weep and we remind them of truth, which gives hope. This is something I touched on in my sermon, "An Understanding Community." It takes discernment to know what a friend needs at the moment.

Remember Jesus' words. 

Note that Jesus doesn't say "you might" or "you won't" have troubles in this world. He said, "In this world, you will have trouble." This is a reminder to those grieving and to ourselves. We remind ourselves that we're not exempt from grief or suffering. You are not a second-class Christian for grieving. Like Jesus, we move toward people's suffering, not away from it. And when suffering comes knocking at our door, that friend who grieves now may be the very person who comforts us with tears and truth in our own grief.

I pray that you become a person of tears and truth when someone close to you grieves. In this way, you model Christ, the ultimate model for empathy. He didn’t just write us a manual to hope we figure it out. He was born into a sin-ridden, unjust, and grieving world. He grew in stature and wisdom. He wept for his own friend's death and then moments later resurrected him.  

Let me leave you with this verse from Hebrews: "For we do not have a high priest who is unable to empathize with our weaknesses, but we have one who has been tempted in every way, just as we are—yet he did not sin." Jesus is the model for empathy. God Himself understands our grief. God Himself knows how it feels to suffer. Be comforted by His nearness and respond to those in grief the way He does to us: get near enough to keep them warm.