There is no path through this life that does not involve at least some measure of grief. This world is so broken that at different times and in different ways, grief affects us all. Some grief flows from what we loved and lost, but other grief flows from what has never been and may never be. This second kind is what Drew Hensley refers to as “invisible grief,” and it is the subject of his book by that title—a book for those who know the pain of unmet desires and unseen sorrows.
Hensley is no doubt correct when he says that “Grief is most commonly viewed through the lens of loss of life or loss of relationship (such as divorce).” But less visible forms of grief are no less real. What does invisible grief look like?
It can take many forms. For example, it could be singleness for those who desire marriage; it could be infertility for those who desire children; it could be abandonment that prevents certain relationships; it could be a mental or physical chronic illness or disability that prevents you from pursuing certain aspects of life and community; or it could be a combination of these. It could be a series of circumstances that have brought you to a place you never expected to be and have kept you in a place you never wanted to stay.
There are at least two markers of such grief: it is long-term, lasting for a stretch, a season, or all of life; and there are no memories to attach to it and no love to cling to because there has been no love lost. “With invisible grief, there is pain and loss that doesn’t have a place to go because of a future that doesn’t or hasn’t yet come to exist.”
Having identified invisible grief, Hensley ministers to those who have experienced it and does so in part by relating his own story—a story of permanent infertility. He tells how he and his wife came to the crushing realization that it would be medically impossible for them to have biological children. He tells how he responded in sinful despair before learning to endure with hope and joy.
Through the pages of his book, he addresses some of the lies we believe about grief, like “bad things don’t happen to good Christians” or “time heals all wounds.” He grapples with the common question of whether God really cares for us if he withholds what we long for. He assures sufferers that it’s okay to not be okay and encourages them to come to see grief as a gift, so that even as God works in us, he also works through us. He covers matters of identity and matters of purpose, then begins to chart a path forward in which we learn to suffer within gospel community and learn to live faithfully in the presence of both joy and grief during our long journey to heaven.
“My hope in writing this,” he says in his introduction, “is to provide new language and perspective to a form of grief that often gets passed over and even repressed.”
I’m tired of watching so many people struggle in silence, unsure if their grief is valid or worth someone else’s time and attention (it is!). I believe invisible grief is unique enough from how we traditionally think about the topic that we could use a different approach. This book represents what Laura and I looked for but couldn’t find: an honest conversation about the pain and loss from what never was and may never be, feelings that were, at times, hard to fully describe.
That is exactly the book he has written, and the book I’m thankful he has written. I know so many people who struggle with invisible grief, and I trust this book will minister to them and to many others.
