In this world, which is ravaged by the effects of sin, you cannot avoid grief. And when it comes, you must walk through it for there is no way around it. Part of walking through grief are the annual reminders. Birthdays, anniversaries, holidays, and the date of your loved one’s death. They come with painful regularity.

In my journey with grief, two literary passages regularly sustain me. The first is from the Scriptures. In the much beloved Psalm 23, we read, Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for you are with me (v.4). The valley of the shadow of death is a poetic reference to actual deep and narrow canyons through which a shepherd would lead his flock. It was a place of darkness and danger. Its depth and narrowness made it difficult to maneuver through and thus one faced the threat of predators, animal and human.

But the psalmist reminds us that it is in this very place where the Lord is present with us. All our human comforters may be absent. But we are never alone. Our good shepherd does not fear even the valley of the shadow of death. In love and in strength, he comes to us.  

The other passage is from The Magician’s Nephew by C.S. Lewis. One of the main characters is Digory, a boy who, from our very introduction to him, is weighed down by grief and sadness. Polly comes across him after he has been crying. She somewhat unintentionally goads him into revealing the reason for his tears. There are actually several but the heart of it is expressed by Digory when he says, …and if the reason was that they were looking after your Mother - and if your Mother was ill and was going to - going to - die. The narrator then relates that Then his face went the wrong sort of shape as it does if you’re trying to keep back your tears.

Later on in the story comes the passage I keep in mind. Digory and Polly and several others have entered Narnia right at its creation. Unfortunately, one of their number is the witch, Jadis. They have brought evil into Narnia and are called upon by Aslan, the great lion king of Narnia, to undo what they have done. But Digory, sensing Aslan’s power, blurts out a request for something that will cure his mother. He has been looking at Aslan’s feet and claws but as he makes his request, he looks at Aslan’s face. And here is what follows that speaks to me in my grief:

What he saw surprised him as much as anything in his whole life. For the tawny face was bent down near his own and (wonder of wonders) great shining tears stood in the Lion’s eyes. They were such big, bright tears compared with Digory’s own that for a moment he felt as if the Lion must really be sorrier about his Mother than he was himself.

“My son, my son,” said Aslan. “I know. Grief is great. Only you and I in this land know that yet. Let us be good to one another.”

Saints, Aslan, as we know him in this world, is King Jesus, the Lion of the tribe of Judah. And as Aslan knew grief, so did Jesus. For we are told that he is a man of sorrows and acquainted with grief (Isaiah 53:3). So, take courage as you walk through grief and sorrow. Your Savior is with you and always will be. And He knows by experience that grief is great and He will be good to you.