I met my husband on a blind date. Sounds ordinary enough. But it wasn’t. A long-time friend of mine called me one day and said, “Sit down. My wife and I have prayed about this, and we want you to meet someone. He’s a widower with three kids.” Ugh. And then he told me some of the awful details. Cancer. A four-year, hard-fought battle. Three beautiful kids and this strong man of great character left behind. I couldn’t comprehend a person my own age having gone through such a trauma. And what about the kids?
The gravity of what they had lost began to set in the very first time I met them. A picture of their mom and her obituary was framed in the entryway of their home. Her handiwork was everywhere. She had made the curtains in the kids’ rooms, and hung the wallpaper. She had decorated every room. I looked through albums, and more albums, of the birthday parties she had thrown for them and the hairstyles she had fashioned for the girls. The Christmases, dance recitals, soccer games, baseball practices–all of them captured her smiling face, loving touch, or playful sense of humor. Her hand-written recipe cards were in the kitchen; her coat was in the closet. But the warmth and security of her presence was most certainly gone. Now what?
One out of seven children will lose a parent or sibling before the age of 20.[1] That statistic overwhelms me.
My kids were 6, 8, and 10 when their mom died. I fell in love with their dad, and I fell in love with them. They were 9, 11, and 13 when I became their second mom. I made most every mistake a person could make in trying to navigate them through their grief. I didn’t know what I was doing. Our lives seemed too frantic, at the time, to try to figure it out. I was desperately trying to make a home for our kids, while also trying to manage the effects of their trauma. I see everything more clearly now that they are grown. I’ve learned a lot, both from Scripture and from experience, about broken-heartedness. What does a broken-hearted child need in order to heal? To re-engage with life? To prosper? To believe in God’s goodness again? The short answer is Jesus. Revealing Jesus to our sorrowful children is our privilege and our calling. The long answer, well let me take a crack at it:
In fifth grade our oldest daughter, Kristina, was placed in a grief group at her public school. The school counselor was trying to facilitate some discussion by pointing out the kids’ body language and what it said about how they were feeling. Our daughter looked at him with fury and said, “Did your mom die?” When he replied, “No” she said, “Then you don’t know anything about how I’m feeling.”
Grieving kids often feel alone. They think no one understands what they’re going through. This gets magnified in their thoughts and sometimes manifests itself in a tornado of angry outbursts, tantrums, obstinacy, and other tempestuous behaviors. Sometimes it manifests itself in depression, withdrawal, apathy, or panic. Don’t take these behaviors personally. I did. Big mistake. This is just what childhood grief looks like. It’s rough and raw. Your child doesn’t hate you. She hates being in pain.
At times my kids’ overblown emotions made me want to pull away, to punish, or to control. But when I think back on it, I know they were just trying to communicate how traumatized they felt. They were too young to tell me with words. They couldn’t articulate their inner turmoil so they showed me with chaotic behavior. In those terribly hard moments, I wish someone had told me how important it was to calm myself first, and then try to sympathize. What would it feel like if I had lost my mom at their age? Correction of their bad behavior might be necessary but I’d say double down on love and empathy. Oh what a stretch that is. But it works. Then help them, by asking many, many questions, to tell you what’s in their heart.
Another thing I found very helpful, when my kids felt all alone in their pain, was to ask them about their mom. What was she like? What do you remember about her? How did she make you feel special? I found they were eager to tell me. You know those recipe cards I said were in the kitchen? Kristina and I went through every one of them. We saved her favorites. I ended up learning to make one of their mom’s recipes, the one the kids liked the most, Korean flank steak. So let your kids tell you how much they loved the one they lost. Doing this created a very deep bond between my kids and me. I think they would tell you that sharing their mom with me made them feel less alone.
Their souls are swarming with unrest. Inside they may be screaming, “Where is God?! Why has this happened to me?!” And because of their experiences, they will often conclude God isn’t real . . .God doesn’t love me . . .God isn’t kind. Eventually these kids will want answers to some pretty sophisticated questions about God. Mine did. Why does He allow people to die? If God is good, why is there so much evil in the world? What will we do in heaven? Does God answer prayers?
Someone has to anticipate and answer these questions with the hope and comfort of God’s Word. Our faith, our knowledge of the Word, and our personal relationship with Jesus are critical in helping our kids through their dark valley. We can use the Bible to tell our kids about people who lost loved ones or were trapped in terrible circumstances. We can point to David, Ruth, Joseph and so many others to show them how God healed, blessed, and delivered them, and gave them extraordinary futures. We can teach our kids about death too, and how it originated. That way they will never have to wonder if the death of their loved one was their fault, or God’s fault. God hates death. They must know that.
Ultimately behind all of a grieving child’s questions is a deep need to be reassured of God’s goodness. We have the love of Jesus, living inside of us, to give them that assurance. We can all testify of the extraordinary ways God has been good to us, especially when we’ve faced difficulties. The revelation of God’s goodness produces faith and hope for the future.
Finally I will share with you one revelation that has revolutionized my understanding of broken-heartedness and its remedy.
“A merry heart makes a cheerful countenance, but by sorrow of the heart the spirit is broken.” Proverbs 15:13 (italics mine)
“The Lord is near to those who have a broken heart, and saves such as have a contrite spirit.” Psalm 34:18 (italics mine)
A broken heart and a broken spirit go hand in hand. Grief is a spiritual issue. If a child’s spirit is broken by sorrow, who can mend it?
“He (Jesus) heals the brokenhearted and binds up their wounds.” Psalm 147:3
Jesus heals broken spirits. He does this by revealing His character and nature to us. It is not as important for children to understand their grief as it is for them to know their Healer.
Kristina’s reflection on Jesus’ crucifixion was the turning point in her grief. That’s because there is no better comfort than knowing Jesus’ heart for us. When a child no longer doubts His goodness, the healing begins.
I am extraordinarily blessed to have three beautiful, loving kids who call me Mom. What ultimately led my kids back, from despair into faith and life, was knowing Jesus is good, Jesus loves them, Jesus is with them, and Jesus has eternally good plans for them. Jesus. He’s the short answer. He’s the long answer.
To order the great resource for children click here: Emily Lost Someone She Loved
For more information helping children grieve, contact Kathleen Fucci Ministries
Kathleen Fucci earned a B.A. in Psychology from The University of the South and an M.A. in Theology from Fuller Theological Seminary. She is a conference speaker and has taught Bible studies for churches in Southern California, including The Vineyard Church of Anaheim and Rock Harbor Church.
Her special areas of interest include: Christian apologetics, Biblical exegesis, eschatology, and health and healing, with extensive research in human physiology and psychoneuroimmunology (the effect of thoughts and emotions on the body’s immune system), as well as neurocardiology and neurotheology. She has a passion for helping others discover and walk in their full inheritance in Christ Jesus.
Kathleen is an award-winning children’s picture book author, and recently finished her second picture book to offer hope and healing to children grieving the loss of someone they love. She is a wife and mother of three adult children, who lost their mom when they were young.
[1] Findings from http://www.hellogrief.org/about/life-with-grief-research/ 2015; 5:5
Sadly, children are not exempt from suffering, especially when they are faced with the death of a parent. Over the course of their lives, they will experience the many stages of grief, and as they grow, grief can grow and pop up in surprising ways. Shaping their perspective will play a huge part in producing positive fruit from their grief. Children must be directed and encouraged to see that God is both in control and a loving, kind, and gracious Father. Through that lens they will be able to see that God gives purpose in their pain—ultimately to know Him in a way they never would without the pain.
In a perfect world, childhood is a time of joyful innocence, brimming with family activities, warmth, and wonder at all you’re learning and experiencing. Yes, my childhood included many of these things: a loving family, fun activities, sports, crafts, vacations, church, school, friends, birthday parties, girl scouts.
I was ten years old. It no longer mattered to me how good my life had been, or what I had learned at Vacation Bible School. Death taught me, “God doesn’t love me!” The loss I felt screamed in my ear, ”God isn’t good!” And the pain I carried whispered,“Things will never, ever be good again.”
I tried so hard to reconcile a good and loving God with the death of my mom. Deep down I wanted to believe that God was real and kind. That my mom was in heaven, not buried in the ground. I wanted to believe more than anything, but it felt as if there were a gulf separating me from God.
I turned inward with my feelings. Everyone was falling apart around me, so I resolved that no one would see me cry. I would remain stable. Steady. Only I wasn’t. My anger was so overwhelming, I could not manage it. I was mad at everyone. God. Why did He allow this to happen? My family. Why wasn’t I told more about what was happening with my mom? My friends. Why did they all have whole families when mine was torn apart? Didn’t they know how lucky they were to still have a mom?
To cope I began doing the things my mom used to do – making sure my brother and sister were okay. That they had eaten dinner, done their homework. I did laundry. I cleaned. I did all I could to maintain order amidst the chaos churning all around me, and within me. I grew more and more bitter. What ten-year-old has to endure these things? Why is my life so hard compared to those around me? Why did this have to happen to me? Will things ever get better? Is the rest of my life going to feel like this? Will I ever feel joy again?
In the months after my mom’s death, I decided that either God wasn’t real—or He wasn’t good. Since I prayed for my mom to live, and she died, these seemed the only possible conclusions. Either way, I wanted to know. I wanted to know more about this God I didn’t even believe in. Months turned to years as I sat in this place of anger, pain, and brokenness.
Without my praying, without my asking, without my even dreaming it could be so, God blessed me with another amazing mother. A mother who sat with me for hours to talk about the loss I had experienced. A mother who would allow me to ask any question about God I wanted—or needed—to ask. A mother who took me to church, but let me make my faith my own. A mother who cooked for me. Cared for me. A mother who loved me unconditionally, as I had been loved before. Without my even asking, God redeemed. Without even knowing it could be possible, He restored to me what I had lost.
As I processed my grief with my new mom, I began to grow in a true knowledge of who God is.
One summer my life-long best friend invited me to a church camp. Sitting in the crowded chapel, I listened, stunned, as the speaker walked us through Jesus’ crucifixion. I had no idea that Jesus had suffered like this. The truth rang loud and clear in my heart: Jesus was familiar with suffering. The man continued, “It does not matter what has happened to you, God was with you. He wept when you wept.” This time, my faulty paradigm shattered. God wasn’t distant. He wasn’t bad. He didn’t hate me. He was intimately aware of my suffering. He wept, too, in fact. When I would scream into my pillow at night, when the tears wouldn’t stop flowing, when the hole in my heart threatened to undo me, Jesus was with me. He cared. He loved me. He had, in fact, never left my side.
Being reassured of God’s goodness, His mercy, His love—it changed my life. He has provided for me, and restored to me what I lost. He has mended my broken heart. These miracles are proof to me of who He is and what He can do. He is much greater than my ten year old mind had allowed.
My new mom is like one of those stones the Israelites took up as they crossed the Jordan River—a symbol of God’s goodness. I can look back on my past and, instead of seeing a shattered life, a broken heart, I see the hand of a loving Father—restoring, redeeming, and healing.
To order the great resource for children click here: Emily Lost Someone She Loved
For more information helping children grieve, contact Kathleen Fucci Ministries
Kristina Fucci earned a B.A. in English from Westmont College and an M.A. in Christian Apologetics from Talbot School of Theology. Before joining Kathleen Fucci Ministries, Kristina worked in Christian publishing as a contributing writer and marketer for a number of children’s ministry resources, including Sunday School and Vacation Bible School Curricula. She has also worked in Christian radio.
If you would have told me 8 months ago that I would never speak to my husband again, never look at him, never kiss him, never receive a text message from him, I would have told you to put a pillow over my face because I wouldn’t be able to survive one single day without him. If you would have told me that he wouldn’t be here to lay with every night and feel his warmth, reach up on my tippy toes to kiss him, or hear his handsome voice telling me he loves me ever again, I wouldn’t have been able to fathom the pain of what that may feel like and I would just assume to not feel it, and put me out of that misery before I would have the chance to experience it. Yet here I am every night falling asleep alone, looking at my phone and not seeing his name pop up, nor seeing him walk through the door. And it really is more painful than I would have imagined if you would have told me this would be my life. 8 months later, how I am getting through every day is beyond my own capability.
Ever since the day I met him, we talked- phone, text, Facebook message, snapchat, sticky notes- all the things- all day- everyday- for exactly 5 years. I was one of those over-bearing girlfriends when he wouldn’t answer a text back within a reasonable amount of time, I would become upset. Why? Maybe I’m crazy. Or maybe I craved to talk to him because he was my most favorite person in the entire world. Not talking to someone who I had an endless conversation with for 5 years is truly beyond my own capability.
We honestly did everything together. Grocery shopped, worked out, cooked, bathed our dog…when my prescription was ready at the pharmacy, the three of us (yes, our dog Daisy, too) would pile in the car and drive a half a mile down the road to get it. We didn’t do anything without each other. Why? Maybe I’m not independent enough. Or maybe because he was my partner in everything and I didn’t question doing anything without him. Or perhaps I somehow knew our time was limited. So how I am going to the grocery store by myself, out to coffee alone, or raising a 94-pound stubborn dog without his help, is positively beyond my own capability.
I feel like I have shared a few personal things, so why not dig a little deeper. Before our wedding, I developed debilitating anxiety. It came out of nowhere and it took over my life with full force. I think it stemmed from the fear of standing up in front of 150 people with everyone staring at me at the altar on my wedding day. Obviously, I wasn’t anxious of who I was marrying- it was just this unexplainable fear of having to stand up there for 15 minutes in the Atlanta summer heat. I still can’t explain why or where this anxiety came from, which makes it more frustrating. Regardless, Matt did some exposure therapy with me to try to overcome this irrational fear. He made me stand outside in the Houston heat (much hotter than Atlanta) in my wedding shoes, with a hooded sweatshirt on for 30 minutes, twice as long as our ceremony was supposed to be. (Can I just brag for a second about my sweet husband? Without judgement or criticism, he helped me through my absolute ridiculousness). And it worked because even though I felt jittery at the altar, it wasn’t as hot or as long as when we were “training.” The point of this obscenely silly story is to just put in to perspective how fearful and anxious I was 8+ months ago, when everything in my life was 100% perfectly fine. So, imagine now that something very real and terrifying happened to me, what my anxiety should be…
I was the Matron of Honor at my best friend’s wedding a few weekends ago. At her wedding, I stood up there husbandless, widowed, scared and scarred. But I was up there. I wrote a speech but convinced myself I wouldn’t be able to read it, told my friends that I wasn’t going to read it and that I would just write a nice letter to the bride and groom- up until the DJ called us up there as it was time for speeches. Something literally pulled me up from my chair and held me up there. I was able to read the words off my phone and through the microphone in front of 150 people. How I stood up there is exceptionally beyond my own capability.
All of this, the big and little things, that I’ve done in the past 8 months, are beyond my own capability and 100% through the strength Christ has given me through the Holy Spirit. This isn’t meant to brag or tell you all “I’m fine!” or “all is well.” I am writing to tell you why I can be fine. I am not fine on my own. I am not strong on my own, I am strong with Jesus. I am no longer anxious like I used to be, not because I just “got over” the things that made me feel anxious, but because I know God is in control. It is not worth the energy to be worried because God knows what will happen the next minute from now, tomorrow, and next year.
Would it be easier to hide under my covers and say no to all the opportunities that have arose since Matt has been gone? Of course. Do I hear the lies and fears running through my mind? All the time. Is it easier to listen to those lies rather than to ignore them and hand them over to God? Yep, it’s so tempting to believe them. Am I “okay?” A lot of the time, no, I am not. Bitterness, anger, pitifulness, and deep, deep grief do take up a lot of my emotions. But when I choose to see all of God’s works being put together piece by piece – joy, hope, and thankfulness begin to take over those other stages of grief.
Most of the advice I hear when I encounter a challenging situation is “give it to God”. Sounds easy… How do I actually DO that? It’s a constant learning process and I am trying all the time. But here are two things I cannot ignore:
I still have hopes and dreams for my future. A single dream cannot be put together based upon my own capability, it is through the power and sovereignty of Jesus Christ that dreams (big and small) will be fulfilled according to His plan so long as I put my trust in Him and honor Him. God isn’t going to offer me an instant solution, it is going to be a long, long road following Him, but He will point the way forward. I am confident that, in this storm, He is never going to let me down.
What are you going through right now that would be a lot easier if you handed it over to God? What dreams of yours haven’t been fulfilled because you haven’t invited God to help piece things together? What are you trying to accomplish that you can’t complete with only your own capability? Follow Jesus, He will point the way forward. You don’t have to do it on your own. You will be able to do the things you thought were impossible when you invite the God into your situation.
I am standing on the other side of everything I am afraid of, and God is standing there with his arms wide open*. He is walking with me, opening and closing doors, making things work together better than I could myself, He is good even when life isn’t.
*Lyrics from Wide Open by Northpoint INSIDEOUT.
Listen here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TzOaWq5YczA
I remember the feeling constantly haunting me.
I was certain I was going to die young.
I was certain I would never get to experience marriage or pregnancy or motherhood or any of life’s monumental joys that had always filled my dreams.
Not only was I sure I would die young, but I was relatively certain I would be the one to take my own life.
Since the moment I had stared at my dad’s body on a morgue table with a self-inflicted gunshot wound in his chest, a spirit of death had come upon me and, from that point forward, consistently sold me vicious lies that were packaged to look and sound like inevitable truths.
I was a Jesus-loving, Holy Spirit-filled, ministry-leading young woman who was regularly plagued by thoughts of suicide and inescapable feelings of oppression and death. Not because it was anything I desired, but because my soul was the battleground for a very real and tangible degree of spiritual affliction that I was completely ill-equipped to recognize and fight at that point in my faith journey.
Nobody had ever talked to me about true spiritual warfare. Nobody had spoken up about the reality of unclean spirits and the doors we often leave open for the enemy to maintain jurisdiction in various areas of our hearts and lives.
I didn’t grow up in a denomination of the faith that taught much about deliverance, so I assumed it was my responsibility to do my best to cope.
To cope with the feelings of oppression I just couldn’t quite shake.
To simply cope and focus on my desire for happiness.
When I opened the Holy Word of God I frequently read of Jesus casting out demons and the power of God to break the chains of bondage to unclean spirits in our lives, but nobody around me was talking about how I could practically be set free of my own struggles. So I assumed I was supposed to quietly find balance between both—faith in Jesus, balanced with the need to somehow keep my restless and anxious thoughts in check.
But Jesus didn’t take the cross and rise from the grave, conquering sin and death—overthrowing darkness and bringing a new administration of mercy and grace—in order for us to cope. Jesus came to set the captives FREE. To deliver us from evil and to give us the Holy Spirit as our guide and our helper so we can move through this fallen, oppressed world reigned by an enemy who is slick and deceiving (2 Corinthians 4:4, Ephesians 2:2, John 12:31), with great authority, power and victory over the dark spirits that delight in our self-destruction.
You see, in John 10:10 Jesus said,
“The thief comes only to steal, kill and destroy. But I have come that they may have LIFE, and have LIFE in all its fullness.”
Jesus was never apprehensive about addressing the realities of spiritual warfare and the prevalence of unclean spirits. He came to make us aware of who our true enemy is (Ephesians 6:12), and to equip us to recognize the schemes of darkness (2 Corinthians 2:11).
It’s why one of the very first things Jesus did when He began His ministry was cast out an unclean spirit (Mark 1:25-28). It’s why one of the first instructions Jesus gave the disciples when He sent them out was to cast out demons (Luke 9:1-2). It’s why, in Jesus’ final message before ascending to Heaven, He noted that one miraculous sign that will accompany those who believe in Him will be the authority and power to cast out demons in His name (Mark 16:16-18).
Jesus spent His ministry educating us to the reality that the affliction we face in this life is not simply a matter of mental health, or physical health, or emotional health. No, the reality of the battles we are fighting are of spiritual health. And He has given us the ability, through the power, love, rescue and restoration offered by the Holy Spirit, to armor up and fight the good fight of faith (1 Timothy 6:12).
I will never forget when I was delivered from the spirit of death that had afflicted me for so long. I was speaking at a church in Colorado and during a gap in our itinerary, the leadership team invited me back into their offices. They were so full of lovingkindness and so earnest in their care for me.
They sensed in their hearts that I was wrestling with something and they explained that they were passionate about seeing people set free from spiritual affliction. That was where I first learned the power of simply speaking about the affliction we are enduring. We take ground from the enemy who is shaming us into silence when we find courage to articulate our struggle.
I began to open up about this nagging feeling of death and doom that was haunting me and without missing a beat they began to pray some of the most powerful and specific prayers I had ever heard. They led me through warfare prayers that broke generational curses, claimed victory over the enemy in Jesus’ name, and reclaimed jurisdiction in my soul from the grip of unclean spirits. We repented of sins, prayed God would search my heart and draw to mind areas of unforgiveness in my life, areas of deceit, areas of disobedience. We prayed and repented and asked God to cover even the sins I could not draw to mind (Psalm 19:12). And then we praised and trusted. We praised God for His faithfulness to cleanse us of all unrighteousness (1 John 1:9), we prayed the blood of Jesus over my life—that I would be sanctified by His love (Hebrews 10:10-14). We trusted God for freedom by the power of the Holy Spirit and before I knew it they capped it off with a resounding ‘amen’ and it was time to head to our next event.
I was amazed. And speechless. And couldn’t quite wrap my head around all that had just happened, but my spirit felt instant relief. The next morning I woke up feeling legitimately renewed and from that day forward I was never again afflicted by fears of premature death, thoughts of my inevitable capacity to commit suicide, or doomed feelings of oppression or tragic loss.
There were definite benefits to the ways the world had offered me help up until that point, but no grief counseling or anti-depression medications had been a complete prescription to the affliction of my soul. They had treated the symptoms, but never uprooted the cause. I needed Jehovah Rapha, the Great Physician, the One who is mighty to save, to do surgery on my suffering spirit.
Don’t get me wrong, I am truly happy our society is beginning to address mental health. It is very real, very important, and a layer of our well-being that is essential to nurture. However, mental health issues are not the sole answer to the cause of suicide. It is one layer of the problem, but it is not the exhaustive answer to the strangleholds we are wrestling with in growing proportions.
We must recognize that there is spiritual warfare that is real and tangible and we must fight for those around us who are afflicted and don’t know true deliverance or the hope of healing. We must become warriors of intercession. Part of the reason Christ came was to show us how to set the captives free, how to cast out demons, to heal, to love, and to move in power and authority. If we truly desire to make headway in the arena of mental health, then we must begin to speak of spiritual health and the Holy Spirit’s power to completely transform us from the inside out—leading to the complete and transformative renewal of our minds (Romans 12:2).
God fiercely loves every single one of us—and Jesus came to set the captives free. May we humble ourselves before the Lord (James 4:10) in order to understand these realities more fully and by the power of WARFARE PRAYERS put the unclean spirits, including spirits of death and suicide, in their rightful place—a footstool beneath OUR KING’S feet (Hebrews 10:12-13).
For more by Mo Isom visit: http://moisom.com/blog/
