He does answer Job with Who: a God big enough to manage our confusion and anger, even when it’s directed at him. God never answers all of Job’s whys either. Had he answered all her questions? We are never really told. Had God proven himself faithful over time, despite her distrust, anger, and unbelief? Yes. What God was giving her after loss was something entirely new. This baby she held in her arms would bear no resemblance to her son, the man who died without fathering a child. Naomi probably glanced up and thought about what might have been. I have no doubt as she held this baby in her arms Naomi thought of Mahlon and Kilion. If we summarized the last chapter of Ruth as “they lived happily ever after,” we who have buried husbands and sons would have questions. She brings him her anger, frustration, loss-all of it. Moll calls this oversimplified at best and heretical at worst (137). Too often we pressure grieving Christians to “give a testimony” or “count it all joy,” as I was just days after I buried my husband. When your theological arguments are exhausted and your patience turns to anxious urgency, you need a woman like Naomi to tell you like it is” (135). Moll’s take here is utterly refreshing: “Naomi travels her grief journey with far less finesse. Many would prefer Naomi to have kept the faith as she walked back into town. Other authors vilify Naomi or compare her to the “godly” daughter-in-law for the purpose of pointing out Naomi’s flaws. Moll’s treatment of Naomi is the most empathetic and redemptive I’ve read. Moll also makes insightful observations about one of the most misunderstood women in Scripture: Naomi. It made me wonder, What’s wrong with me? These insights benefit both the sufferers and those who would seek to help them. After my husband’s death, I experienced ambivalence, even resentment, at the avalanche of kind offers of help. “To hear someone offer help wrote that loss in cement” (100). She offers insight to would-be consolers as to why receiving help might be painful for a widow: to accept help was to acknowledge the specific places in her life where her husband’s loss was felt-from grocery shopping to finances to carpooling. She also shares advice for helping grieving children, forged from the anguish of seeing her own children’s pain. “In a world where so little felt like it was within my control anymore,” she writes, “I discovered that I could still put one foot in front of the other” (80). It offered her a sense of control in out-of-control circumstances. Move: In Moll’s case, walking provided more than daily exercise. Nourish: good nutrition can bolster a grieving person’s immune system. When Helping Hurtsīeyond the Darkness is bursting with practical advice that Moll sums up in three words: nourish, rest, and move. It is because death has revealed a greater longing-for a joy that lasts, unbroken, abounding, forever and ever” (215). Grief will remain with the bereaved for a lifetime, but she insists that doesn’t mean we can’t have satisfying lives after loss: “If life doesn’t shine as brightly anymore or our days feel emptier, it’s not because death has taken away our joy. Moll invites us to see grief as a companion, not something to get over, struggle to defeat, or endure. And what doesn’t kill you, does it indeed make you stronger? Nope. Moll writes, “The obstacle course of sorrow can become a very human attempt to beat back the darkness instead of seek Christ in it” (42). Time does not heal all wounds, and there’s no right way to grieve.
Anyone who has grieved a significant loss will tell you that how we speak of grief is often disassociated from the lived experience. Moll notes a painful reality: those who mourn will have few who’ll understand their suffering. Grief may walk with us for the rest of our lives, but Jesus will too. And as you do, you might be surprised to discover the path is wide enough for another companion, the Good Shepherd of your soul. Whether you’ve lost someone dear to you or you’re supporting a loved one as they mourn, you can learn to walk with grief. In her debut book, Beyond the Darkness, Clarissa offers her powerful personal narrative as well as honest, practical wisdom that will gently guide you toward flourishing amidst your own loss. Her life changed forever in 2019 when her husband, Rob, died unexpectedly while hiking―leaving her with four children to raise alone. The Bible says that “God is near to the brokenhearted,” but what does that look like when you’re lost in the darkness of agonizing grief? How do you engage with your sorrow when the world tells you to shoulder through or move on?Īward-winning writer and podcaster Clarissa Moll knows this landscape of loss all too well.
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