Feb. 16, 2022, was the day my dad died. One month and five days later, I lost my grandfather. Grampa’s death was expected; Dad’s was not. Grieving a loved one is not something that anyone ever wants to go through. Whether the death is expected or not, it is a dreadful ordeal. But everyone must go through it at some point in their life. Maybe you’re already thinking about a date—a day on the calendar that you remember with a sinking feeling, a day that you can’t help but relive over and over again. If not, don’t take for granted the time you get to spend with your family and loved ones because every second spent with them is a great blessing.

Even two years later, I still experience grief every day, but amid the paralyzing weight of it, I have learned three things from grief. I don’t believe I would have learned these lessons quite so deeply if I hadn’t experienced grief firsthand. It doesn’t make it easier to bear, but it allows flickers of light to appear in various areas of my life. I hope these three lessons can help you whether you’re experiencing grief yourself or you know someone who is going through it. Every trial, no matter how difficult, teaches you lessons about yourself and the world. “. . . we also glory in tribulations, knowing that tribulation produces perseverance; and perseverance, character; and character, hope” (Romans 5:3–4).

God alone sees you through

The greatest lesson I’ve learned through grief is that God alone sees me through. Without His presence in my life and the hope of His plan, I don’t know how I would have gotten through it all. When going through something as seemingly hopeless and final as death, worldly comforts can only help so much. It takes God’s peace and complete reliance on Him to get me through the days. When things don’t make sense, pray to God. Ask Him for peace. There’s a verse in Philippians that describes perfectly what it’s like to partake in God’s peace: “Be anxious for nothing, but in everything by prayer and supplication, with thanksgiving, let your requests be made known to God; and the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and minds through Christ Jesus” (4:6–7).

Even through the darkest trial of my life, I can feel God working with me and bringing me peace. It surpasses all understanding that I can feel peace. It’s because it comes from God and not the world. God’s peace mainly comes from hope in His plan. The Bible teaches that after death, we enter a state of rest, much like sleep.  At Christ’s return, those who have lived faithfully will be resurrected to eternal life in a new spirit body (1 Corinthians 15:50-51; 1 Thessalonians 4:13-18). I find peace in the knowledge that this life isn’t the end, and the future God has for us will not fade: “I know that whatever God does, it shall be forever, nothing can be added to it, and nothing taken from it” (Ecclesiastes 3:14).

Keeping the big picture burning brightly is what helps me get through the days. Dad’s favorite verse was Matthew 6:33: “But seek first the kingdom of God and His righteousness, and all these things shall be added to you.” That was Dad’s motivation throughout his entire life, and now I wear a ring that reminds me of that precious motivation. Additional verses that help me are Romans 8:18, 2 Corinthians 4:16–18, and 1 Peter 1.

Grief is a goad

A goad is not a term that we’re very familiar with in our society today, but it was common in ancient times. Back then, goads (sharp, pointed sticks) were used frequently in farming to help prod and encourage an animal to move forward. Solomon used a goad as a metaphor for intellectual and emotional improvement in Ecclesiastes: “The words of the wise are like goads . . .” (12:11). Here, he characterizes wise words (or instruction) as a goad—something that prods an individual and helps them move forward. In a previous chapter, he writes about grieving. Although he doesn’t explicitly mention goads in this verse, the idea is similar: “Better to go to the house of mourning than to go to the house of feasting . . . Sorrow is better than laughter, for by a sad countenance the heart is made better” (Ecclesiastes 7:2-3). Here, Solomon highlights the vast difference between partying and mourning, especially the inward differences between the two. A party atmosphere (or living in constant lighthearted enjoyment) doesn’t encourage contemplation. It is fun, but there is nothing there to prod you, to push you toward improvement.

Mourning, on the other hand, promotes inward thinking. It acts as a goad in that it brings an individual to see their shortcomings through meditation. It prods and pushes. A goad isn’t pleasant—it is sharp, and it hurts to be poked with it. However, it is meant to help you spring into action and keep you from being stagnant. Standing still is not an option.

There have been many instances in which I felt my grief was making me take steps backwards. It is paralyzing at times. But through the process, I have learned to be more contemplative about my life. I take things more seriously and strive harder to keep building my relationship with God. Part of this is driven by the desire to live up to Dad and Grampa’s examples. Grampa was one of the hardest workers I knew—and not just physically—spiritually too. There were many times when I would see him in his office pouring over his Bible. He hated reading, but he loved studying his Bible. Not long before he died, I remember him talking to someone on the phone and commenting on the trial he was going through saying, “These are exciting times.” He kept his mind focused on what mattered, and his outlook at the end of his life reflected his ultimate goal of being in God’s Kingdom. I often think about his example and push myself to improve.

Grief teaches empathy

Grief has helped me be more empathetic towards those going through trials—especially those who are going through the loss of a loved one. In the past, I would read prayer requests, pray for the people once or twice, and then move on with my life. Now, I feel the pain with them. I think about them often and keep them in my prayers because I know what they’re going through. Even though no one’s grief is the same, there is still a feeling of connection when two people go through a similar loss. Through this connection, I have found it much easier to comfort others.

Comfort first comes from God who is the ultimate Comforter: “Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of mercies and God of all comfort, who comforts us in all our tribulation, that we may be able to comfort those who are in any trouble, with the comfort with which we ourselves are comforted by God” (2 Corinthians 1:3–4). From the comfort that God gives us in our trials, we are able to comfort others through their trials.

One way this learned comfort manifests itself is in the ability to know what to say. I won’t sit here and profess that I always say the right things, but I’ve learned about what words are helpful and more importantly, which ones are not. A couple of things I don’t say anymore are: “How are you doing?” and “I’m here if you need anything.” Asking someone going through deep grief how they’re doing is an impossible question. Unless you are a very close friend and are in a private situation, ready to listen, it’s better to avoid it. Be more intentional with what you say. A simple “It’s good to see you” or “I’m praying for you” holds more meaning than “How are you doing?” The second statement sounds nice, but it doesn’t offer any specificity or time frame. It may be difficult for a grieving person to make decisions or ask for help. A better way to help someone grieving is to give them options and a time that you are available. “I would like to help you with [specific thing]. I’m available [date, time]; can I come over and help?” Doing this takes the pressure off of the person and only requires them to figure out the date and time that would work for them.

Grieving a loved one is not an experience that anyone ever wants to go through, but it is inevitable. When faced with that seemingly insurmountable trial, it is paramount that you rely on God. Only He can provide you with true, lasting peace through the truth of His plan. Grieving, though at times paralyzing, can also help prod you forward. Use the naturally contemplative nature of grief to push you to improve yourself. Finally, with the comfort that God grants to us, work to pass on that comfort to others who are going through similar trials.

In the last letter Dad wrote to me, he ended with these words: “Keep putting God first, and it always works out—even when it may not make sense.” The trials we go through may not make sense, but God’s plan is greater. He will see us through.