“He was despised and rejected by men, a man of deep sorrows who was no stranger to suffering and grief . . .” (Isaiah 53:3, TPT).

I sat on the floor of my sunroom. The deep red roses just outside my window graced the fence beautifully. Somehow that’s all I remember seeing that morning. 

I sobbed deeply as I rocked back and forth. The tears rolled down my face and dripped onto the bamboo floor. The pain was so deep within my chest I didn’t know if I would ever be OK. I wasn’t even sure I could lift myself off the floor. 

I was sure I was miscarrying. I had so many promises and hope for this baby. How could they be slipping away? Yet, I knew something wasn’t right in my body. It would be another five days before my doctor confirmed what I already knew to be true. 

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She had gobs of dark hair and green eyes. Beautiful in every way. I had seen her in a dream, but that would be the only time I would get to see her this side of Heaven.

How could you God? I angrily pondered. Where are You?

For weeks, I carried on the best way I knew how. I cried with everything I did. I felt so angry with God. How could a loving God allow such a thing? Loneliness and hopelessness were my constant companion. 

A verse kept rattling around my head, but for weeks I ignored it. I didn’t want to learn any lessons right now. I was keeping my distance from God. I felt He deserved the silent treatment for what happened. 

Finally, I gave in. I looked up Isaiah 53:3, “He was despised and rejected by men, a man of deep sorrows who was no stranger to suffering and grief . . .” I sat quietly in my favorite spot on the chocolate brown sofa. I could feel the Lord speak to my spirit, “Do you know why I allow grief?”

With resentment seething through me, I replied, “No!”

He gently spoke, “Grief is one of the only things that will unravel a soul deeply enough for it to finally heal.” 

He didn’t have to say another word. I knew this was true. Coming from a childhood filled with abandonment and addiction, I knew there were places in my soul I had sealed off many years ago. 

He spoke again, “A real resurrection can come to these places if you let it.” 

I had a choice to make: run from God and seal off this part of my soul again or surrender all of this grief to Him and find healing.

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I reread the verse. Jesus had deep sorrows, too. He was no stranger to suffering and grief. He had felt what I felt. He knew the depths of my grief. At one time, He was so crushed by grief that His body sweated drops of blood. He knew every bit of pain I was experiencing. He didn’t mind my anger. In fact, he wanted to take my hand and lead me into healing. In his wounding, I could find my healing. In His grief, I could find my peace.

He didn’t suffer for nothing, and neither would I. 

Here was the champion of my heart offering me an invitation. He wasn’t afraid of my pain. Nor my anger. He wasn’t afraid of my grief. He met me right there where I needed Him most. I had rejected Him, but He would never reject me. I blamed Him for my pain, but He responded with gentleness and love.

He led me when I couldn’t see, held me when I couldn’t breathe, and comforted me when I felt loss. Real resurrection came when I chose to surrender to the Grief Bearer of my soul.

And the Grief Bearer He is. Step by step and moment by moment, He met me in the deep recesses of my pain and led me to a peaceful place once again. Ever faithful and ever loving, He leads us through our grief and on the path of healing for our souls.