We’re Not Built for Grief

When I’m super frustrated or confused about something, I tend to process things by writing down my thoughts. This post is bound to be longer than some because, a little over a week ago, Ethan Hamilton didn’t even know he was sick. Five days later, he died of Leukemia.

People die every day. Sometimes we grieve about it. Most times we don’t. When the deceased is not close to us, we tend to shrug it off as more evidence of a fallen world. When they are, our hearts break and we wonder what the heck went wrong.

Ethan’s father, Jack, is my mentor, friend, and 40-year partner in ministry. Ethan’s mother, Linda, is the big sister my wife still loves. His siblings, Jared and Phoebe, were close to our three. Any way you cut it, this all hurts.

Ethan was eight years old when Sheryl and I were asked to lead High Desert Church 40 years ago. Ten years later, he left town for Point Loma University. A few years after that, we traveled to Seattle to watch him marry the love of his life, Andrea. It’s still fun to hear his parents brag about the accomplishments of his and Andrea’s two amazing children, Lily and Eli. Even from a distance, we were privileged to watch him grow up, from that sweet boy into a godly husband and dad. From that determined kid into a University Athletic Director, and a clear voice for the Gospel in the middle of the national conversation of college athletics.

I tend not to be a name-dropper, but I have to admit, I often referred to my personal friendship with Ethan as a badge of honor. We have always been so proud of him.

Simply stated, Ethan Hamilton was an amazing guy at a lot of levels. What he accomplished in his 48 years is flat-out impressive. It’s funny how the thing that stands out in my mind, though, is how he treated my son. Ethan’s father and I spent three days every spring at a father/son retreat at Forest Home. Then we’d turn around and do the same thing each fall with our daughters. The first year we went to the retreat, Drew was barely starting elementary school. Ethan was already in high school. You’d think they would have had little in common. But that year, and every year thereafter, Ethan and Jared treated Drew like they were all best friends, always making him feel like he was one of the big boys. It was virtually impossible to walk away from a conversation with Ethan Hamilton feeling unimportant!

We’ve probably all thought the same thing over the past week. “Of all people, Lord, why take someone like Ethan?” But our frustrations extend well beyond that. Why would God allow people to lose their lives as martyrs, or allow anyone to go hungry, or allow someone we deeply care about to die of a vicious disease?

The Bible is filled with stories of people who experienced tragedy. And, one of the things they had in common was that they all wondered, “Why?” At the time of a tragedy, of course, no answer could ever suffice. I mean, why would God allow the death of such a beloved husband, father, son, brother, and friend? I don’t know. But that’s not the point. In times like this, even if God gave us a specific answer about why, even one that kind of made sense to some of us, it wouldn’t be enough. We don’t just want answers. We just want our loved ones back. But the fact that we cannot understand does not mean that there is not understanding somewhere. Just because we cannot fathom a reason for such a tragedy as the untimely death of a loved one, it doesn’t mean there isn’t one. Over time, God’s people have often found that, what once seemed utterly senseless, became an important piece of a much larger narrative.

Years ago, John Piper wrote an article about this kind of loss that I had never considered before. He suggested that the Lord calls us to think differently about tragedy, that tragic situations and their effects are not wounds that need to be healed, but disabilities that we are called to bear. Some disabilities are physical. Other disabilities are mental. Others are emotional and spiritual. When our mindset shifts from getting beyond the pain, or beyond the horrible memory, to acknowledging the ongoing presence of the pain and remorse, then even the memory itself becomes miraculously transformed from a life-paralyzing reality to a life-deepening, mission-empowering reality.

Maybe the grief we feel right now is not like a wound that we should expect to heal, but like an amputation that we would expect to produce a lifelong limp. His family won’t ever run the same. But that limp can give them the miraculous capacity to minister to other people with a very unique kind of joy and peace, that only a person who had to swallow such a bitter pill can know.

For some, a tragedy like this might cause them to reevaluate their faith in this “loving” God of ours. Maybe the world is right. Maybe we should eat, drink, and be merry. After all, tomorrow we or someone in our family may die. Ironically, the Apostle Paul said that living the party life is what all of us should do. Except for one thing.

“If the dead are not raised, ‘Let us eat and drink, for tomorrow we die.’” (1 Corinthians 15:32) 

That one thing is the Resurrection. In fact, that could be the biggest “if” in the whole Bible. Christians must never be deceived by the sneakiness of grief, because we know something the world doesn’t know. Jesus beat down death. The Apostle compels us to believe the Resurrection is true, at least until it’s our turn to find out that he was right.

Tim Keller writes about the exchange between Sam and Gandolf in the climactic scene of The Lord of the Rings trilogy. Sam was ecstatic when he discovered that Gandolf was alive and not dead, as he’d feared. Sam says, “I thought you were dead! But then I thought I was dead myself.” And then he asks Gandolf, “Is everything sad going to come untrue?” The answer that Jesus would give is, “Yes.” Because of Jesus’ Resurrection, the sad will not only become untrue, but relationships will somehow become greater for having once been broken.

The Psalmist tells us that God knew the number of our days before any of them even began. When I’m asked to lead memorial services, I often calculate that number for the loved one who left. Ethan got 17,773 days. We’ll certainly never forget the day he left. On the Fourth of July, Ethan’s number was up. So, what’s your number? What’s my number? I don’t know. I don’t know why Ethan didn’t get more. I do know that he will live as long as you and I will. Because of the Resurrection of Jesus, not only will Ethan live forever, but so will all of us who place our faith in Jesus. That’s why we can be confident that this is not the last we’re going to see of Ethan Hamilton.

While Craig Barnes was still pastor of the National Presbyterian Church in Washington D.C., he wrote a book entitled, When God Interrupts. It includes this paragraph.

“We will probably spend most of our lives with family, friends, good health and good work. But they are not ours by rights. They are not promised to us. We may have to give them back to God at any moment. Someday we will give them back. The trick is to learn how to do that before they leave us. That allows us to spend the rest of our time enjoying them as the temporary gifts that they are.”

As Sheryl and I have tried to process Ethan’s passing, we found ourselves weeping. The tears were not just for the Hamilton family, although there were plenty shed just for the saintly tribe they are. So many of our tears were shed for ourselves. We truly loved that kid! At one point, in her grief, Sheryl said something truly profound.

“We’re not built for this.”

I thought about that for the last couple of days. She’s right. None of us are built for grief. We were created for fellowship. We were not built for broken relationships. We were never designed by our Creator to experience loss, to struggle with death, to grieve the passing of a loved one. But when the presence of sin devasted our environment, suddenly, human beings were like fish out of water.

Sheryl was absolutely right. We were never built to grieve. But thanks be to God! (To quote a famous Apostle.) Because of Jesus, we should never over-grieve.

“Brothers and sisters, we do not want you to be uninformed about those who sleep in death, so that you do not grieve like the rest of mankind, who have no hope.” (1 Thessalonians 4:13)

So, yes. Thanks be to God!

“‘Where, O death, is your victory? Where, O death, is your sting?’ The sting of death is sin, and the power of sin is the law. But thanks be to God! He gives us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ. Therefore, my dear brothers and sisters, stand firm. Let nothing move you. Always give yourselves fully to the work of the Lord, because you know that your labor in the Lord is not in vain.” (1 Corinthians 15:55-58)

So, never stop. Not ever. Don’t stop praying for the Hamiltons. And don’t stop working on behalf of the Gospel. If death can’t beat us, neither should our doubts.