I have believed in God for as long as I can remember. My mother and the church indoctrinated me with visions of the cross, and on Sundays, I trailed behind her with hurried steps while she marched us towards service and handed me over to smiling Christian women who gave me crayons to color pictures of Jesus petting a lion. Jesus seemed nice. I liked animals. I wanted to pet a lion – but nobody – nobody – talked about the faith required to pet that lion. Nobody told me about the fear and uncertainty and risk involved when the lion of life is crouching over you, and you need to step forward, step out – in faith. They just asked me to believe.
Belief and faith are different. We believe in our minds that God is real, but faith in Him, trust in Him, happens through experience.
There was a children’s Bible my mother had bought for me as well, full of pictures of Jesus and sick people being healed, and lambs. Lots of lambs. And the lion, of course. The lion was there with Jesus, but unlike my colored picture, this illustration included a group of children He had welcomed to join.
Jesus was a guy who made lions nice so we could approach them and sit with them and pet them. That’s what I thought. He makes the beast safe, and then we approach.
So when my husband died, and the beast of grief came crashing down with the weight and force of annihilation – I felt forsaken. I felt like I had done something wrong, and God had punished me by taking something precious. I had no faith in the capabilities of God or His reasoning behind allowing this. The idea of healing or figuring out how to move forward – the idea of sitting with my grief with any amount of peace was impossible. God had not made my grief approachable. My lion was very much a predator trying to devour me; thoughts even as dark as suicide did not escape me.
God allowed my husband to die. I was mad about that for a long time. But he was not punishing me. He was not trying to destroy me. He was not forsaking me. Life without death does not exist. There is no special pass to avoid grief simply because I know God. Every husband and wife die. This is the human experience, and God does not shelter us from the richness of that experience. The relevance of love, and loss, and grief are made clear by God’s decision to include them in every human experience, and this moment — this moment was mine — by way of circumstance. God had not turned His back on me; He was right there, motioning me to come and sit with Him, and He was sitting next to my grief.
I am 47 now, a long way from those Bible stories with Jesus and children sitting with lions, their smiles reflecting peace and acceptance and trust, my little reasoning skills assuming that God cleared the path of danger before he called them over.
The lion is not tame. That’s the kicker. That’s the invitation to faith. The journey we must make when Jesus motions for us to join – is not easy. Our trembling steps forward, our cries marinated in fear, our stumbling along the path, like infants learning to walk, our moments of weakness and defeat and even self-sabotage – the fixed gaze on Jesus that we must practice, and practice, and practice in the midst of something terrible. Nobody talks about this pilgrimage. But it’s the most important part. It’s how we learn to sit with the lion.
Believing is one thing. Even the demons believe, and shudder (James 2:19). Your trust in the journey, however – your faith – develops along the way until you find yourself sitting quietly with Jesus and your grief, at peace.
About Sonney Wolfe
Sonney Wolfe is a writer, educator, mother, nona (grandma), and widow. She holds a Master of Arts in English, teaches academic and professional writing for the University of Maryland, and writes features, press releases, blog posts, and personal essays for various news and social media.
Widowed in December of 2019, she soon joined the masses in COVID lockdowns, which deepened her understanding of grief as she witnessed widespread loss, especially among students. Now, she integrates grief support in her college classrooms by addressing pandemic disruptions, community loss, and mental health challenges. Her autobiographical teaching philosophy, born from her own grief journey, provides a platform to share her experiences and support students who have also lost loved ones.
In her professional writing, she sheds light on the human experience of loss and grief, particularly for widows. She explores the complex societal shift they face, transitioning from wives to widows and often single parents. This sudden change forces widows to navigate not only grief, but also a landslide of challenges: income loss, economic strain, relocation, career shifts, altered healthcare needs, and declining mental health.
Her Blog WIM Dispatches (Woman in Motion), https://sonneywolfe.com, chronicles her personal grief journey and advocates for the needs of widows, along with her IG: @WIM_Dispatches – and Facebook page: WIM Dispatches Life After Jay.
Such a helpful post, thank you! My husband passed away unexpectedly leaving me, my son, and daughter. It’s been immensely difficult with so many secondary losses and uncertainty. Thank you for sharing!