Grief is not unique to single adults. Grief is a part of life for everyone. Even little children are not shielded from it for long. Most of us can recall burying (flushing?) a deceased pet goldfish or putting a cute little hamster into a shoebox coffin. Many people lose their grandparents when they are young, or grieve the moving away from friends when a parent takes a job in a new town. Little griefs are disappointing; big griefs are life-altering.
Only those who are single by choice are spared the “big grief” of journeying through life without a partner. For the never-married who long to be paired, an undercurrent of grief always shadows the hope that their soul mate is still “out there.” Widows and widowers not only grieve the death of their spouse, but also the death of dreams and daily life as they have known it. The grief of divorce is similar, except that it is the death of a marriage and not a person. Many divorced people say divorce is worse than death because there is no closure. That is, the spouse still lives on, and there is no socially sanctioned ceremony where friends and family circle around to help one say good-bye to the dead marriage. Even when a marriage has been horrid, and divorce brings relief, there is still grief for what could have been; indeed for what should have been.
And so, most single adults are acquainted with grief. In the small group of single women that is meeting weekly at my church, we talked about it in our most recent meeting.
We considered the odd phrasing of Matthew 5:4, which says, “ Blessed are they that mourn…(KJV).” What? How does the word blessed belong in the same sentence with the word mourn? My sense of it is that grief increases our capacity to receive blessing from God. Ironic, oh yes. A “big” grief, like divorce or the death of one’s mate, calls forth an intense emotional pain that doesn’t ever well up in a person who is not grieving, for there is no such abyss in their heart. Abyss is exactly the right word. Merriam Webster defines it as “a hole so deep or a space so great that it cannot be measured.” Abyss describes real, unspeakable grief. If you have truly grieved you know this place, this bottomless “hole so deep.”
The blessing, the great irony of grief, is that the abyss it creates—the “space so great that it cannot be measured”—is the very space God refills with His comfort. Thus, the deeper the grief, the deeper the space it carves out for God’s comfort. Those who have truly grieved ARE blessed because they can know God in a deeper, more experiential way that those who have never deeply grieved.
Meditate on the astonishing Amplified wording of Matthew 5:4.
Blessed and enviably happy [with a happiness produced by the experience of God’s favor and especially conditioned by the revelation of His matchless grace] are those who mourn, for they shall be comforted!
The grief comes first, clawing a deep cavern into the flesh of the soul. And then, for those who invite God into this dark space–crazy true–the balm of His magnificent comfort is poured out to fill the abyss dug by grief. And as the “big grief” that caused us to be single slowly soaks up its comfort from God, we are empowered to walk on through life, as long as God wills, as whole, healed, unmarried daughters and sons of God.
“Weeping may endure for a night, but joy comes in the morning (Psalm 30:5).”