Sitting on the mourning bench is agonizing. Some days, grief will overcome you, and all you can do is bear it and cling to Christ. At times, it feels as though your heart ripped open and a gaping hole where your child once lived is all that’s left. You think you will not survive and might beg God to take you, too.
But you do survive. You survive because God enters each moment of your grief and wraps His arms around you tightly around you as you sit on the cold, dark, lonely mourning bench.
You sit there long, believing you are completely alone amid your darkest hour. You never are. God didn’t do this to you. He sits with you. He weeps when you weep. He loves you even more than you love your child.
One day, you will venture a foot or two away from the mourning bench. Maybe you’ll attend a family gathering when you haven’t been able to since the funeral. Or, you might plan a get-together in your home and suddenly realize that you enjoy life again, if only for a moment. And maybe, just maybe, it felt unbelievably good to laugh for the first time in months.
Gradually, you will wander further and further away until there is more laughter than tears on holidays, and the mention of your child’s name will bring a smile to your face instead of rendering you utterly helpless.
The mourning bench will beacon you occasionally but with less frequency and severity. Perhaps a song will take you back, or maybe reliving a memory in a photo. There will be no rhyme or reason. The important thing to remember is that it will be a brief visit, and you have what it takes to walk away again.
Please, friend, let the mourning bench serve to remind you that God is always present. He knows what you need and is but a prayer away. Cry out to Him. Lean into Him. Be held by Him.
This time on the mourning bench is agonizing but is a mere millisecond compared to the glory we will know forever.
Lord,
Let each one of us place our hope and confidence in You so that we will know the glory of eternity with You.
Amen