Letters to GriefSample

Ocean

Dear Grief,

You are the ocean. You pull in strong currents. Your depths are unknown. Your power is unmatched.

Your vastness takes my breath away. I stand at the edge of you and feel conflict within—I am simultaneously enamored by you and terrified of you. You are deafening and strangely soothing.

You make me feel small.

You come in waves, rising with lofty swells that crash down incessantly. I ride in your crest until you break, and I wash onto the shore, empty and defeated.

Your tides are ever-changing. Some try to predict you, but you are a force of your own. You charge forth uninvited and pull back in retreat, exposing evidence of life better left hidden under your surface.

I cannot comprehend your mystery.

You can be murky, violent, and volatile. You offer a means of passage from one destination to the next for those willing to take the risk. You carry and uphold. You have swallowed souls.

Your saltiness stings my eyes; I cannot discern your presence from my own tears.

In winter you form stoic icebergs that line your shore, masses of frozen mounds that keep well-intentioned visitors at bay, too fearful to set foot on your unpredictable foundation.

But as your Master fixed limits for the sea, which He created and “set its doors and bars in place,” so He limits you (Job 38:10, NIV). As He says to the waters He formed, so it is with you: “This far you may come and no farther; here is where your proud waves halt” (Job 38:11, NIV).

Your depths are unknown. I cannot comprehend your mystery.

When peace

like a river

attendeth my way,

when sorrows

like sea billows roll;

whatever my lot,

thou hast taught

me to say,

“It is well, it is well

with my soul.”

“It is Well with My Soul,”

Horatio Gates Spafford

Questions for Reflection

1. Which phrases from this metaphor of grief as the ocean could you most relate to at this particular phase in your grief journey?

2. When you feel as if you’re drowning in grief, what has helped you find air at the surface?

3. Horatio Spafford penned the lyrics of the hymn, “It is Well with My Soul,” on a ship while traveling to meet his wife after all four of his daughters drowned in a shipwreck in the same sea over which he crossed. How would you explain his ability to say, “It is well with my soul” after such a horrific loss?

Reflective Prayer

Lord, I am drowning. My arms are shaking with fatigue from trying to tread water and stay afloat. The waves are beating down on me, crashing onto my head, neck, and shoulders. I am exhausted.

I am searching for rescue, for relief, even for a brief reprieve, but I cannot see a lifeboat anywhere.

Sorrows roll over me like sea billows. Teach me to say, in the midst of it all, that it is well with my soul. Cause me to sense Your peace that passes understanding. Help me to see that even though the pain of this grief is real, it is only temporary—that one day, You will take it away and not allow it to return.

In Jesus’ name,

Amen

The Lord will be your everlasting light, and your days of sorrow will end.

Isaiah 60:20B (NIV)

For more devotionals by Kate Motaung, find her book, Letters to Grief, HERE.