Nobody teaches children to perform their grief. Nobody has to. They learn quickly that grief elicits sympathy and sympathy elicits comfort or compromise. I recently watched my one-year-old grandson, having just been scolded for touching what he knows he must not touch, bury his head in his hands, then covertly peek out to make sure his mother and grandmother were witnessing the incomprehensible depths of his sorrow. Sometimes kids are at their cutest when they are at their naughtiest.
We all know what it is to perform grief—to ensure that others are aware of our sadness by forcing them to see our sorrow. We may do this to gain their attention or compel their sympathy. We may do this because we make grief an idol and are only validated when others feel sorry for us and express their concern. We may do this as a means of manipulating others so they do our will. Yet while such forms of performative grief are obviously sinful, I am convinced there is another form that is not. There is a way in which we can perform our grief publicly and receive God’s blessing.
As Christians, we do not belong to ourselves. The Heidelberg Catechism says it sublimely in its opening sentence: “I am not my own, but belong—body and soul, in life and in death—to my faithful Savior Jesus Christ.” We belong to Jesus and belong within his people. We live the Christian life in community in such a way that we are both many and one—many individuals and one church.
Though we suffer individual sorrows, we suffer within the context of our wider belonging. Our suffering is not our own any more than our lives are our own. We suffer, at least in part, so we can equip others in their suffering, both by example and instruction.
Our suffering is not our own any more than our lives are our own.
The instruction comes as we “comfort those who are in any affliction, with the comfort with which we ourselves are comforted by God” (2 Corinthians 1:4). What we learn in the darkness, we whisper to others in the light. The comfort of the shepherd’s rod and staff becomes comfort we minister to others as they pass through the dark valley. God instructs us so we can instruct others.
The example comes as we experience and endure suffering before the eyes of our fellow believers. As they see us submit to God in our sorrows, they learn to submit to God in their sorrows. As they see us rejoice in all circumstances, they learn to rejoice in all circumstances. As they see us praise God in the darkness, they learn to praise God in the darkness. Through our godly example, we, like Paul, tacitly say, “Be imitators of me, as I am of Christ.” Each of us learns to suffer by witnessing the suffering of others.
We always endure our sufferings in a deeply personal way. We never cease to be individuals whose griefs really are painful and whose sorrows really are distressing. But we also always endure our sufferings in a communal way. We never cease to be members of Christ’s church who are living our lives before others, and therefore we never cease from the responsibility to serve them well.
Hence, when God calls you to suffer, and he most certainly will at one time or another, commit to being a faithful steward of your sorrows. Know that in this time of grief, God has given you an opportunity not only to be served, but also to serve, and not only to receive, but also to give. Even in this, you are called to do good to others for the glory of God—to perform grief well so others will see how a Christian endures with faith, with hope, and with love for God and his people.
