The Darkness Creates Space for Grief and God
Nov 17
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Tracy Busse
There is a space between All Saints Day and the Winter Solstice that invites us to breath in the cool scent of darkness. There is a heaviness to the shift in season that feels like a weighted blanket on your chest. The days are getting shorter at the behest of the night’s watch. All Saints Day invites us to remember the Saints who have passed on, while surfacing grief that was blinded by the light of longer days.
Grief is a natural process we all endure together. It brings sadness, anger, confusion, denial, and a host of other emotions. Sorrow for the loss of those dear to us endures during various seasons of our life because of our immense love or desire connected to the individuals who have died. We also grieve for unfulfilled hopes and for previous seasons that lifted our hearts with delight. There are many ways image bearers grieve.
Because humans are created in the image of God, we have a natural instinct to mourn what has been lost. We long for something unspoken that lives deep in our souls and manifests itself in different ways. We were created for eternity but we live in a world that reverberates with notes of our mortality. Romans 8: 22-23 could be a clue to what hails beneath the sorrows we live with every day.
For we know that the whole creation has been groaning together in the pains of childbirth until now. And not only the creation, but we ourselves, who have the first fruits of the Spirit, groan inwardly as we wait eagerly for adoption as children, the redemption of our bodies.
The groans of loss remind me of an old knotty tree that creaks at the summons of a brisk blustery wind. The last leaves of autumn surrender to the coming darkness of winter. Nightfall tells our eyes to surrender their dominance to other senses. The dimming of our sight intensifies the sounds and texture of grief. If we allow ourselves to pause when the days get longer and reflect on our soul we may hear the distinct echo of a holy groan or feel a vibration within trying to catch our attention.
Grief is not meant to be a solitary activity. Many cultures value communal grieving while some of us where told grief is a private matter. I once attended a Day of the Dead gathering and walked around in wonder while viewing altars of remembrance. In an odd way it felt like being at an art exhibit with someone close to the artist standing by. They could answer questions about the spicy Doritos and tequila propped next to a picture of their loved one. There was also clothing, trinkets, and rosaries representing the saint that once walked with them on this earth. It was not just a time to honor but a space to remember.
The longer nights offer us more space to reflect and to share with others what we miss about loved ones or seasons from the past. We also share ways we are mourning for things we wished for that never came to pass. In a sermon (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=C5LXTnjZBOg) on Romans 8 Trevor Hudson reminds us these groans are linked to deep desires. Hudson states, “Our groans are the meeting place between you and Christ.” God wants to join you in your grief and your longing. Even when you find yourself angry at God, there is a Divine invitation to express that anger to God. I often tell clients God can handle your anger and grief. Jesus modeled anger and grief for us throughout the gospels and was never condemned by God for his intense display of emotion. If anything, the incarnational Christ models the freedom we have to commune honestly with God.
The winter solstice and All Saint Days offer natural rhythms to embrace what feels scary, but I wonder if we invite the most loving image of God we know into those spaces of grief what might emerge? Will there be a heightening of your other senses. Allow yourself to lean into what feels scary, sad, or hard but remember you do not have to go alone. Invite God and others to join you in these places. We do not have to fend for ourselves in the darkness, but we can enter mindfully with God and others. You might find that what our eyes cannot see are best encountered through the eyes of our heart, spirit, or our community.
May you be blessed with love and grace as you bravely encounter what lives outside the sight of your eyes, and may the God of love join you as you journey to dark and sacred places.
Grief is not meant to be a solitary activity. Many cultures value communal grieving while some of us where told grief is a private matter. I once attended a Day of the Dead gathering and walked around in wonder while viewing altars of remembrance. In an odd way it felt like being at an art exhibit with someone close to the artist standing by. They could answer questions about the spicy Doritos and tequila propped next to a picture of their loved one. There was also clothing, trinkets, and rosaries representing the saint that once walked with them on this earth. It was not just a time to honor but a space to remember.
The longer nights offer us more space to reflect and to share with others what we miss about loved ones or seasons from the past. We also share ways we are mourning for things we wished for that never came to pass. In a sermon (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=C5LXTnjZBOg) on Romans 8 Trevor Hudson reminds us these groans are linked to deep desires. Hudson states, “Our groans are the meeting place between you and Christ.” God wants to join you in your grief and your longing. Even when you find yourself angry at God, there is a Divine invitation to express that anger to God. I often tell clients God can handle your anger and grief. Jesus modeled anger and grief for us throughout the gospels and was never condemned by God for his intense display of emotion. If anything, the incarnational Christ models the freedom we have to commune honestly with God.
The winter solstice and All Saint Days offer natural rhythms to embrace what feels scary, but I wonder if we invite the most loving image of God we know into those spaces of grief what might emerge? Will there be a heightening of your other senses. Allow yourself to lean into what feels scary, sad, or hard but remember you do not have to go alone. Invite God and others to join you in these places. We do not have to fend for ourselves in the darkness, but we can enter mindfully with God and others. You might find that what our eyes cannot see are best encountered through the eyes of our heart, spirit, or our community.
May you be blessed with love and grace as you bravely encounter what lives outside the sight of your eyes, and may the God of love join you as you journey to dark and sacred places.
Tracy Busse
Tracy Busse’s life and work have fueled an ongoing desire to move in harmony with the Trinity and to create spaces where all can encounter intimacy with God.
Tracy is a writer, teacher, counselor, and spiritual director. For over eighteen years, she has provided therapy to children and adult survivors of trauma and human trafficking. She also provides consultation and training to a variety of organizations who serve leaders and marginalized populations. Continued growth in Kingdom life and integrating God’s love and presence into her work are the heart of her practice.
In addition, Tracy is currently working on a doctorate in Spiritual Direction at Fuller Theological Seminary, which offered the opportunity to enjoy a 30-day Ignatian Retreat. The fruit of this experience continues to grow and reveal greater depths of God’s love and abundant grace. With the belief that God is in all things, Tracy finds delight on her paddle board, hiking, playing the guitar, painting, traveling, and resting in the company of fellow image bearers.
Tracy Busse’s life and work have fueled an ongoing desire to move in harmony with the Trinity and to create spaces where all can encounter intimacy with God.
Tracy is a writer, teacher, counselor, and spiritual director. For over eighteen years, she has provided therapy to children and adult survivors of trauma and human trafficking. She also provides consultation and training to a variety of organizations who serve leaders and marginalized populations. Continued growth in Kingdom life and integrating God’s love and presence into her work are the heart of her practice.
In addition, Tracy is currently working on a doctorate in Spiritual Direction at Fuller Theological Seminary, which offered the opportunity to enjoy a 30-day Ignatian Retreat. The fruit of this experience continues to grow and reveal greater depths of God’s love and abundant grace. With the belief that God is in all things, Tracy finds delight on her paddle board, hiking, playing the guitar, painting, traveling, and resting in the company of fellow image bearers.
