Lamentations 3:22–23
The steadfast love of the LORD never ceases; his mercies never come to an end; they are new every morning; great is your faithfulness.
I love celebrating birthdays, but as the years go on, survival sometimes feels like the bigger accomplishment. My 57th birthday last year was one I’ll never forget—not for joy, but for sorrow. My wife of 23 years had died unexpectedly the summer before, and my two teenage daughters and I did our best to mark the day, though the absence was crushing. I had been living in shock for months, drifting in a fog of hopelessness, unsure what there was left to live for.
That night, after our small celebration, I kissed the girls goodnight, went to my room, and broke. I fell on my face in tears, praying for the first time in months—begging God either to take me out of my misery or give me some reason to keep going.
It turned into hours of wrestling: anger, despair, loneliness, confusion. Every raw emotion of grief poured out until I finally passed out on the rug. When I woke, I knew only this: God was not finished with me. I didn’t know the way forward, but I knew I had to live one day at a time and wait for Him to reveal it. The words of Andy Dufresne in The Shawshank Redemption came to mind: “I guess it comes down to a simple choice: get busy living or get busy dying.” By God’s mercy, I chose to get busy living.
Looking back, what I was really wrestling with was acceptance—not only of her death, but of the loss of the future we had dreamed together. Acceptance looks different for everyone, but as William James wrote, it is “the first step to overcoming the consequences of any misfortune.” That step became the beginning of a long walk with a God of amazing grace, who would resurrect my life for His glory.
Along the way I’ve learned:
- Grief is not something to be ashamed of but a testimony to love.
- While death is a tragic obscenity, in God’s economy it never has the last word.
- Even well-meaning friends can undermine grace by leaning too heavily on cultural or therapeutic rules.
- I must never apologize for God’s healing, even if others doubt it.
- And because God is in the business of resurrection, our rebirth rarely looks like our old dreams—it is His new design, often more surprising and beautiful than we could imagine.
Among His greatest gifts of grace this past year is the woman I now call my wife—an extraordinary, godly woman with her own story of resurrection still unfolding. God has joined our stories into one, setting us on a one-flesh path to bless others. Almost overnight I became a stepfather to three fascinating children, while my own daughters are slowly finding their places of acceptance, being shaped through suffering into godly young women.
God has also given me a new calling—away from the pulpit for now and into the work of coaching, counseling, and consulting. With hard-earned experience in ministry, family therapy, spiritual direction, and grief, I now walk alongside people all over the world.
A year has passed since that dark night of the soul, and I can say without exaggeration it has been the most excruciating, unexpected, and beautiful year of my life. As I enter my 58th year, I carry a hope I never thought possible again. I remember telling a congregant years ago, crushed by death in her family, that we should “never underestimate the mercy of God.” Today I echo that with deeper conviction. His mercy has picked us up, dusted us off, and set us living again.
For the Kingdom,
Jay