What can Jesus possibly mean, to say we are blessed by mourning?

By Mark A. Taylor

We were talking with my wife’s former colleague, now a widow after her husband died far too young. Her experience had left her with an analysis of grief much simpler than the classic five stages suggested by Elisabeth Kübler-Ross.

“First there’s the reeling,” our friend said. “Then the dealing, and finally the healing.”

Three stages

I could relate. We were knocked totally off balance by the phone call that told us my mother had died without warning. My wife’s mother, on the other hand, slipped away after an extended illness; we had anticipated her death for weeks, maybe months. But facing the finality of life was equally piercing even in the different situations. Now nothing was quite the same. And how strange, after attending so many other funerals, to sit with the casket holding this person we had known the longest.

But after the shock of reeling comes the burden of dealing. Wills or trusts (or the lack thereof). Lawyers. Probate. Stuff, all that stuff, to sort and distribute or pitch.

Then, eventually, the healing can begin. And I’m convinced this is a unique journey for each situation. Although experts have identified a predictable pattern for healthy grief, no two experiences are identical. And for some, the process takes years, and even then it doesn’t feel complete.

One promise

This is the grief we first remember when we hear the second Beatitude: “Blessed are those who mourn, for they shall be comforted.”

But although God does promise comfort for every bereaved believer coping with life’s devastating losses, Jesus seems to be addressing something different here.

Coming right after his affirmation of spiritual poverty, this is a statement about spiritual grief. Jesus is talking here about sin. And to fully acknowledge sin in our own lives brings as much a shock to the system as any death. It causes tears (there’s the reeling), and then repentance (there’s the dealing). Only then can spiritual health develop. (And the healing likely continues only as we embrace the experience of the third Beatitude: “Blessed are the meek.” More about that to come.)

Difficult challenge

Frankly, I’d like to avoid this part of the journey. It’s painful enough to stand totally stripped of pretense before God and to admit my utter hopelessness without him. But unless this leads to soul-wrenching grief, such an admission can quickly degenerate into self-pity (“I’m a terrible person.”) or even pride (“How wonderful that God loves me in spite of my sin!”). As John Stott says, after confession should come contrition.

Time and again Scripture connects mourning with confronting sin.

• When Ezra called the exiled Jews to face their blatant disregard for God’s command not to intermarry with the Gentiles, the whole nation gathered and wept (Ezra 9:13—10:1).

• Paul challenged the Corinthians to mourn because of the sin they tolerated (1 Corinthians 5:1-2). And later he praised them for their “godly grief” that led them to repent (2 Corinthians 7:8-10).

• James railed out at the injustices of the wealthy and called them to cleanse their hands and purify their hearts, to “be wretched and mourn and weep” (James 4:8-10).

Agonizing process

This is nothing like what we see when a two-year-old is forced by a parent to offer a sullen “I’m sorry” because he grabbed a toy away from a friend. Real progress doesn’t come till the child learns to share. (And most of us can testify this takes years!) “Sorry” isn’t good enough till it leads to action.

But the action won’t happen without the mourning. People won’t change their ways without a deep, soul-convicting regret that leads to something different. And more often than not, tears fill the stream that propels each of us to a new way of life.

The weeping that accompanies the death of a loved one comes because we painfully realize, “Everything’s different now.” Maybe not in the world around you. Businesses churn on, people chase after their daily duties, each morning brings a new weather forecast. But in your soul, you know you will never view life the same way.

This mirrors the agonizing process the Christian endures to be whole before God. Some will change their computer use. For others, the issue will be money, or how they deal with their children, or what they say about their boss. Some will see a counselor. Some will look honestly at the way they’re spending their time or how they behave around their non-Christian friends. Some will decide to stick with Alcoholics Anonymous. Some will examine and then edit the list of desires driving their choices.

Comfort, finally

The possibilities are endless. And many have realized the list never goes away. Holiness is a lifelong pursuit. But with each new tear Christians shed in grief for their sin, God makes a promise: “They shall be comforted.”

The greatest gift we can give God is our broken spirit and contrite heart (Psalm 51:17). And when we run back to the Father, driven by repentance and committed to change, he embraces us with an accepting forgiveness beyond our imagination (Luke 15:11-32). The cross of Christ is both the evidence of and path toward God’s unmatched love. “Weeping may tarry for the night, but joy comes with the morning” (Psalm 30:5).

And so I’m convinced we don’t need to sink in a swamp of sin, but I do believe each of us is yearning for the comfort Jesus promises in this Beatitude. And I’m thinking that sitting with God and shedding a tear or two about our broken condition would bring many of us the relief we’re seeking.

This is the second in a series of reflections on the Beatitudes.
Next Saturday: “Blessed are the meek . .  . .”

Photos by Alex Green from Pexels

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