Over the four-plus years my beloved wife Nanci faced cancer, there were many good reports and many bad ones. We rode a roller coaster of emotions throughout her three surgeries, three rounds of radiation, and three rounds of chemo.
I vividly remember the day when the doctor said it was now stage-four cancer that had spread to her lungs. That night we prayed together, and then I went downstairs, got on my knees by the couch, buried my face in my hands, and wept. I poured out my heart to God, begging Him to intervene. I did what 1 Peter 5:7 tells us to do: “Cast all your anxiety on him because he cares for you” (NIV).
Suddenly I felt a presence beside me. I opened my eyes and saw our Golden Retriever Maggie’s front paws next to my hands. She gave me a look of loving concern, licked my tears, and then made a loud mournful sound she had never made before and never did after. I can only describe it as a groan. It startled me.
I thought immediately of Romans 8 which tells us that we groan, the whole creation groans, and God’s Spirit intercedes for us with groanings too deep for words. I realized that three of us were groaning together for Nanci, who we all loved—our God, myself, and our dog. And then I wept more, this time finding great comfort in both my companions.
The God of All Comfort
A year later, I was there when Nanci took her last breath. I felt profoundly sad, yet so privileged to have been her husband and to be there till death did us part. In the over two years now since she relocated to Heaven, her absence has been palpable. I miss her frequent texts about dogs and football and great quotes from Charles Spurgeon and J. I. Packer and others. I miss the sound of her voice and her laughter, always so loud and contagious.
The grief has been difficult. Yet God has been doing a work of grace in my life, bringing me comfort that allows me to go forward without her. (This is greatly helped by the anticipation of one day being with her again in the presence of Jesus!) In Psalm 16:8 David says, “I have set the LORD always before me; because he is at my right hand, I shall not be shaken.” To set God before me is to recognize His presence and constant help.
When a child falls off a bike, she doesn’t need her father to say, “Sweetheart, here’s why it happened—given your speed and the weight of this bike, it couldn’t tolerate that sharp turn and…” No. The child simply wants comfort. We don’t need explanations, most of which we wouldn’t understand anyway. We need “God, who comforts the downcast” (2 Corinthians 7:6). Millions of people, including me, attest to the comfort He has brought them in their darkest hours. “…you, LORD, have helped me and comforted me” (Psalm 86:17).
Joni Eareckson Tada and Steve Estes write in When God Weeps,
God, like a father, doesn’t just give advice. He gives himself. He becomes the husband to the grieving widow (Isaiah 54:5). He becomes the comforter to the barren woman (Isaiah 54:1). He becomes the father of the orphaned (Psalm 10:14). He becomes the bridegroom to the single person (Isaiah 62:5). He is the healer to the sick (Exodus 15:26). He is the wonderful counselor to the confused and depressed (Isaiah 9:6).
Paul says, “[The] God of all comfort... comforts us in all our affliction, so that we may be able to comfort those who are in any affliction, with the comfort with which we ourselves are comforted by God” (2 Corinthians 1:3–4). Often when we are grieving, we think only of receiving comfort, not giving it. There are times in grief when receiving needs to be our sole focus. But when God comforts us, we are enabled to also use that same comfort to console others.
While He pours out His comfort to us directly by a ministry of His Holy Spirit, God is also fond of using other people to comfort us. I have experienced this through my friends and family members. There is great pleasure in both giving and receiving comfort in God’s family. It’s fulfilling to be His instrument, and that’s a source of comfort as well.
The Friendship of Jesus
Jesus says, “No longer do I call you servants…but I have called you friends” (John 15:15). This stunning truth has become a deep daily comfort to me. Ever since I came to know Jesus as a teenager, I’ve had a friendship with Him; but it really hit home when my second best friend, Nanci, was no longer here for me. While other friendships have helped, nothing has meant more to me than the friendship of Jesus. It still does. Every day.
I have never felt closer to Him than I do now. I tell myself that Nanci now lives with her best friend and mine. And I am experiencing and sensing His presence with me every day. At her death, neither of us lost our best friend. He is still with both of us, even though we are not yet reunited.
That Jesus truly is and wants to be our friend is a revolutionary concept to many Christians. True, we should never deny or minimize the fact that we are God’s servants, and that itself is a high calling. But we should simultaneously affirm the wondrous fact that we are His children and friends. God can and does love His servants, but He certainly loves wholeheartedly His children and His friends. And He intends to do His best for us, even when that best takes a different form than we might have chosen.
Dwight L. Moody said, “A rule I have had for years is to treat the Lord Jesus Christ as a personal friend. His is not a creed, a mere doctrine, but it is He Himself we have.”
As we grieve, we find that grief itself is a companion; but our greater companion and closest friend is Jesus. He has said, “I will never leave you nor forsake you” (Hebrews 13:5). Jesus is our mentor and best friend, as well as Savior and Lord. Our relationship with Him grows as we spend time with Him—talking and listening to Him. As Oswald Chambers wrote, “The dearest friend on earth is a mere shadow compared to Jesus Christ.”
We Will Behold His Face
Suffering and weeping are real and profound, but for God’s children, they are temporary. One day, grief will end. Forever. Eternal joy is on its way. Jesus, our forever friend, “will wipe away every tear from their eyes, and death shall be no more, neither shall there be mourning, nor crying, nor pain.” This is the blood-bought promise of Jesus.
In the meantime, when our hearts ache, let’s turn to Jesus, our greatest source of comfort and peace. “This is my comfort in my affliction, that your promise gives me life” (Psalm 119:50).
