An empty armchair by a glowing fireplace, with a soft throw blanket draped over it and a side table holding a mug of tea and an open book. The mantle is decorated with garland and family photos, evoking warmth and cherished memories. — An empty chair, yet a room filled with warmth and treasured moments.

Grief Is a Natural Response – Jesus Wept

Jesus Wept: Understanding the Depth of Grief

Grief is a natural response to losing someone we deeply love. When we look to Scripture, we find one of the shortest yet most profound verses in the Bible: “Jesus wept” (John 11:35, NLT). These two words reveal the depth of Christ’s love and His humanity. But what could drive a holy God, Jesus Christ, to tears? It was His profound love for the people around Him.

If Jesus, fully God and fully man, wept over the people He loved, it is natural for us to do the same. The depth of our love directly correlates to the depth of our grief. As I reflect on my own journey, I’ve come to understand this truth in a deeply personal way.

A serene forest pathway in autumn, covered with vibrant red, orange, and yellow leaves. Sunlight filters through tall trees, creating a tranquil and reflective atmosphere. — A winding path through autumn’s beauty, inviting reflection and peace.

My Personal Journey: The First Tears. Jesus Wept

The first wave of tears came on my birthday, December 28, 2023. I had left Wendy in the hospital in Williamsport, where she was awaiting a procedure the next day. After the two-hour drive home, I received devastating test results: her cancer markers were through the roof. Knowing she was struggling with pancreatic issues, I feared the worst. Two weeks later, those fears were confirmed—Stage 4 pancreatic cancer.

We realized our time together on earth was limited. Almost three months later, after several trips to the ER and another long hospital stay, God healed her by bringing her home on April 2, 2024, at 9:30 PM.

Wrestling with God in the Waves of Grief

The morning after Wendy passed, anger and sorrow overwhelmed me. I cried out to God, asking why He took her and not me. She was a better person, a stronger Christian, and she was doing so much for Him. For nearly an hour, I wept uncontrollably. But during that time, God revealed three truths to me:

Wendy’s work on earth was done. God called her home because she had fulfilled her purpose.
My prayers had been answered. She was healed. She could eat, drink, and rejoice in the presence of her Savior.
God wasn’t done with me yet. I had more work to do, and He had a purpose for me to fulfill.

These realizations helped me take the next steps forward, but they didn’t lessen the pain or the tears. Grief continued to come in waves.

The Tsunamis of Grief

The worst day came after Wendy’s Celebration of Life. When my daughter returned to Texas, I was alone for the first time. That Sunday morning, grief overwhelmed me in church. Tears streamed down my face, and I couldn’t stop crying. I left the service and walked into my empty home. The silence was deafening, and the loneliness was unbearable. I was such a mess that I couldn’t bring myself to attend my niece’s birthday party.

What I’ve learned is that grief comes in waves. Sometimes, it’s a gentle wave—a memory of holding Wendy’s hand while we watched TV. Other times, it’s a tsunami that leaves me gasping for air. These tsunamis often come during moments of deep loneliness, like Thanksgiving without her or the Christmas season, which was her favorite time of year.

A close-up of a bald man's tear-streaked face with a goatee and a gentle smile, reflecting a mix of sorrow and hope under soft, warm lighting. The background is softly blurred, emphasizing his expression — Tears of sorrow and gratitude, etched on a face of strength and hope.

Tears of Joy

As I write this, I am weeping. Grief is still very much a part of my life, but I’ve come to realize something important: not all tears are sad. Increasingly, they are tears of joy and thankfulness. I feel immense gratitude for the gift God gave me—33 wonderful years with Wendy, including 32 as her husband. I cherish and give thanks for the love we shared, the memories we created, and the life we built together. These tears remind me of how deeply Wendy loved me and how much I loved her in return. They are tears of appreciation for the laughter, the shared moments, and the blessing of having someone who truly understood me. Most of all, they are tears of hope, knowing that one day, I will see her again and we will rejoice together in God’s presence.

An artistic depiction of Jesus standing near the tomb of Lazarus, His face filled with compassion and tears streaming down. Grieving onlookers surround Him, set against a natural background of trees and rocky terrain under soft, muted lighting. — Jesus wept, showing us the depth of His love and compassion.

Embracing the Tears: Jesus Wept

If Jesus wept, it’s okay for us to weep too. His tears at Lazarus’s tomb show us that grief is not a sign of weakness but a natural response to love.

Scripture reinforces this:

Psalm 34:18 (NLT): “The Lord is close to the brokenhearted; he rescues those whose spirits are crushed.”
Ecclesiastes 3:4 (NLT): “A time to cry and a time to laugh. A time to grieve and a time to dance.”
Matthew 5:4 (NLT): “God blesses those who mourn, for they will be comforted.”

Grief is not something to run from or hide. It is a testament to the love we shared. As I continue this journey, I embrace the tears, knowing that they are a natural part of the healing process. They remind me of the depth of my love for Wendy and the promise of eternal life with her.

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