We Will All Be Changed: Hope in the Midst of Grief

(By Rachel Joyce)

For the first six months or so, I felt like a stranger to myself. Normally, tears come easily…when I see someone suffering, when my chronic pain worsens, tears are pretty standard. 

But now, with this — the death of my beloved father? No. I felt frozen, unable to feel or to respond.

A friend asked if it would be ok to send a book on grief, and I accepted with gratitude.

My dad had lived a good life, blessed so many, but this journey into the unknown realm of grief had left me grappling with pain beyond words. And my tears had dried up. My heart felt unequal to the task of dealing with such a loss.

Lord, please help me now. I don’t know what to do, where to turn, how to find my balance again after such deep grief.

I find my heart drawn to that little country cemetery in the country town where I grew up. His burial had been delayed: Maine doesn’t allow burials between the end of November and the beginning of May, so we waited. Six months later, we buried him with honor and grief still raw.

After the “official” ceremony was over, everyone left, but my husband, daughters, and I stayed by the coffin; we needed time together as a family to grieve. We Facetimed our boys who were unable to be there in person, and then had a time of remembrance — each sharing a precious memory of my dad. And as we reminisced, laughing and crying, praising God for my dad’s life and all we had learned and valued from him, we felt God’s presence holding us, comforting us.

In the months that followed, I found myself drawn over and over to his grave. I know that he is with Jesus, but his body is there. 

And God values that body — so much that it will be resurrected one day. 

So I return to that spot, to water the flowers, to weep, and to offer my grief up to God. I’ve wept with such intensity that it scared me, but I’ve known comfort as well, the comfort of our heavenly Father who loves us, our Father who one day will wipe every tear from our eyes. And I hold onto the hope that one day, Dad will rise.

The last time I visited him, I read these words aloud at his grave: 

“For the perishable must clothe itself with the imperishable, and the mortal with immortality. When the perishable has been clothed with the imperishable, and the mortal with immortality, then the saying that is written will come true: ‘Death has been swallowed up in victory. Where, O death, is your victory? Where, O death, is your sting?”…thanks be to God! He gives us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ” (1 Corinthians 15:53-57).

My voice rose as I read the sacred words. They were a promise and a trust. Death does not have the final say. Death will be swallowed up by victory. 

The victory of the cross will have the final say. And I will rejoice, even through my tears, because my God is greater than death, and one day, we will all be changed. In an instant, in the twinkling of an eye, we will all be changed.

And we will be with Jesus, the One who loves us, who ransomed us, and who holds all our tomorrows. He comforts us as we grieve, He strengthens us, and enables us to live for His glory. He fills us with hope, and because of Him, we will never be alone. 

If you are grieving today, may you experience the comfort of Jesus holding you and find strength in the hope that His victory over death is also your hope.

He is our Lord. He is our God. And one day, very soon, we will be in His presence forever. Praise be to His holy name!