A Grief Observed

Taking time to grieve and not rushing to find peace

09/22/2025

Luke 8:16-18 Jesus said to the crowd: "No one who lights a lamp conceals it with a vessel or sets it under a bed; rather, he places it on a lampstand so that those who enter may see the light. For there is nothing hidden that will not become visible, and nothing secret that will not be known and come to light. Take care, then, how you hear. To anyone who has, more will be given, and from the one who has not, even what he seems to have will be taken away."

Jesus’ parable today of hiding a lamp under a bed seems like a silly and unnecessary teaching. After all, who lights a lamp only to conceal its warm glow from the world? Well, one time we might feel so tempted is when we go through some grief due to loss, like when someone dies, or when your dog dies.

Now, most of the time I am on the outside looking at the grief of others and counseling or comforting them. I help them not to hide their lamp under a bed. But lately I find myself on the inside of grief looking out, ever since Apollo died last week. And I certainly don’t feel like letting my light shine lately.

This past week I found myself feeling the four predictable stages of grief outlined by Dr. Elisabeth Kubler-Ross: anger and blame, sadness and depression, bargaining with God, and right now I feel a marathon way from acceptance and peace. A lot of people have urged me to be open to getting another dog. But that feels like the last thing I can to do.

What I really want to do is hide my lamp of faith under my bed of pain, crawl under the covers, and cry into the pillows of grief and loss into which I bury my head. And if there’s one thing I have learned by walking with people going through grief it is there are no short-cuts. It is a long, slow, miserable slog through the cold, rain, and mud.

And as you can easily imagine, it is nearly impossible to carry a candle and keep it from going out in the  rain. Sorry for returning to the previous metaphor, but I just feel like going back to bed, pulling the covers over my head and listening to endless Adele songs, whose lyrics always sound so melancholy and mournful.

One of the most unusual books of the Old Testament is called Lamentations. Have you ever read it, or even heard of it? It never made the New York Times Bestseller list because it recounts the excruciating and demoralizing experiences of the Jews in exile in Babylon. Lamentations is the quintessential book about grief and loss in the Bible, perhaps second only to Job.

Lamentations does not hide the stages of grief: anger, sorrow, depression, regret, desperate bargaining, etc. But the fact that the book is included in the inspired canon of Scripture means God is somehow mysteriously present in our grief, too. In other words, his light continues to shine in his Word, even when we don’t feel like letting his light shine through us.

Another tremendous book about raw and unadulterated loss is C. S. Lewis’ little known book called “A Grief Observed.” Lewis shares how the pain of losing his beloved wife, Joy, nearly caused him to lose his faith. And that is saying a lot if you are familiar with what a towering theological giant Lewis was at Oxford and throughout the Christian world. In a sense, that book is all about the moment Lewis wanted to hide his lamp of faith under his bed of grief, sorrow, and loss.

And by the way, if you are more into movies rather than reading books, I highly recommend the John Wick series of movies starring Keanu Reeves. Yes, it is about a mobster and hitman who ruthlessly murders people left and right, while heart-pounding music fills the screen and your senses.

But do you know what triggers John Wick to return from retirement? Someone kills his dog, a beagle named Daisy, which was a gift from his late wife, Helen. In other words, John Wick hides his light under a bed of pain from the loss of his puppy. I feel I could have starred in the John Wick movies right now.

What is my point in this homily, besides sounding like I’m trying to undermine the point of Jesus’ parable? I guess it is just to say we cannot rush our grief and there are no short-cuts to find peace. The Old Testament book of Ecclesiastes says there is a “time” for every affair under heaven.

And then it adds, among other noteworthy times and moments: “There is a time to weep, and a time to laugh; a time to mourn, and a time to dance” (Eccl 3:4). And for me right now, it is a time to listen to Adele and watch John Wick. I’ll bring my lamp of faith out from under my bed tomorrow. And that is why Jesus has to remind us to let our light shine: so we don’t stay in bed forever.

Praised be Jesus Christ!