Joy and Sorrow: Walking Through the Intricacies of Losing a Child
Editor’s Note: This article focuses on one woman’s journey through infant loss and may be difficult for grieving mothers. We believe the gospel is our only hope in life and death, but we recognize there are differing stages of grief, personal experiences, and even theological understandings when it comes to the loss of young children. If you’re in the midst of this heartache, we recommend you seek the input of a professional counselor or your pastor. For more resources, please visit our Suffering & Loss page.
In a solemn voice, the doctor said, “We received Caleb’s genetic test results and we need to discuss them in the conference room.” At this point in the journey, we had been fighting for my son’s life for 27 days. Immediately, I knew something was very wrong. “It’s not good, is it?” I asked the doctor. “No, it’s not,” he replied. Caleb had a gene deletion which hindered his ability to oxygenate his own blood: a rare, fatal disease. The next day, we held our precious boy as he slowly went to be with Jesus—the most painful and sacred moment I’ve experienced. The veil between heaven and earth was incredibly thin as I handed my son into the arms of Jesus.
Caleb was my rainbow baby. We lost our daughter, Radiance, at 21 weeks due to a placenta issue—just eleven months before Caleb’s death. After holding two of my children in my arms as they slowly died, a shift occurred in my heart, soul, and mind. A forceful entry into an intimate relationship with death.
Death is a constant reminder of the brokenness in our world. A constant reminder of our need for the Savior, Jesus—the one who overcame the grave on our behalf. Death is always unsettling. It should be. God’s original creation excluded death. When Adam and Eve sinned, the payment for sin became death.[1] Death deserves our lament. Our grief is a sign of protest against the brokenness of this world. Our mourning cries out, “Your kingdom come, your will be done, on earth as it is in heaven” (Matthew 6:10).
Jesus understands sorrow as the Man of Sorrows.[2] He enters our grief because he was acquainted with it.[3] We can trust him in this space of grief because he has walked the path of death and loss. Jesus welcomes our lament because he died and resurrected to overcome sin, death, and Satan forever. The gospel of Jesus Christ ensures that death is not our end. My son’s life did not end when his physical body breathed its last here on earth. In Christ, we have victory over death, and one day death itself will be thrown into the lake of fire.[4]
Yet, our society is uncomfortable with death and struggles to find space for grief. We may feel pressure to avoid conversations about death and to move on quickly from the devastation of loss. In contrast, during Biblical times, it was common for people to tear one’s clothes as a symbol of the emotional tearing of the heart.[5] This physical action symbolized the importance of leaning into the deep ache of loss and death—our feelings of hopelessness, anger, doubt, and fear. Embracing grief ushers us towards biblical rhythms of lament, remembrance, and celebration.
The loss of a child is a life-altering experience filled with sadness, anger, pain, and confusion. It can feel as if it killed a part of you, never to return. I’ve asked the Lord repeatedly—how do I engage with the death of my children without it destroying me forever? Learning to daily live with the intimacy and pain of death is a fight. But in our wrestling, Jesus is with us, fighting for us.[6]
When we have held death in the form of our child, how do we ever experience healing, joy, or hope again? We allow Jesus to lead our grief journey. We learn to identify and embrace the emotions that follow death. We feel our way through the forest of grief, clinging in faith to our Comforter. We share our story within community. We write. We cry. We pray. We rejoice. We remember, honor, and celebrate our child.
We also accept the enmeshment of joy and sorrow. Two feelings at the same time. We learn how to let joy and sorrow invade the same space and we teach them how to be friends. Joy and sorrow can coexist without negating one another, which has been difficult for me to learn. I can process and work towards some healing, but I will never reach a point where my heart is content with my children’s deaths. The goal is not to be content with death but rather to be content with Jesus—the sovereign, loving, kind, merciful, gracious, just King. The other side of grief is not found on this earth, but only with Jesus in heaven.
In our grieving, we can engage the sorrow of death while simultaneously claiming the joy of our salvation in Jesus Christ and the victory we have in him.[7] The tension amid joy and sorrow feels thick, but in the middle of it, there is beauty in the presence of Jesus. He is our example for how to walk the road of grief with both joy and sorrow existing together. He endured the sorrow of the cross for the joy that was set before him.[8] The joy of setting us free from our sin, overcoming death, and restoring our relationship with him. In the new heaven and new earth, Jesus will redeem the excruciating moments of death. “He will wipe away every tear from their eyes, and death shall be no more, neither shall there be mourning, nor crying, nor pain anymore, for the former things have passed away” (Revelation 21:4). Praise be to God!
[1] Rom. 6:23
[2] Isa. 53:3
[3] Isa. 53:3
[4] Rev. 20:14
[5] 2 Sam. 1:11-12
[6] Ps. 23:4
[7] Ps. 51:12; 1 Cor. 15:57
[8] Heb. 12:2
