The Great Big Sad: Available Now

The Great Big Sad: Finding Comfort in Grief and Loss is now available. This book is the third in the series of children’s books that follow siblings Josh and Mia as they experience hard things in life. We first met them in Tell God How You Feel where they learned to lament to the Lord all their big feelings. In The Great Big Sad, we find them experiencing the death of their grandmother. Each sibling experiences and responds to grief in a different way and the adults in their life help them as they journey through it. They learn to find comfort in the fact that Jesus experienced grief too.

This story is intended for parents and caregivers to read with their children as they seek to disciple them through loss. It includes a letter to parents with suggestions on helping children who have experienced the death of a loved one. There are also discussion questions for families to use at the end of the story.

My hope for the book is that is helps parents walk alongside grieving children. I pray that it equips parents to talk about this difficult topic and helps them point their children to their comfort and hope found in Jesus Christ.

Here are what some readers have said about the book:

I’d love to know what you think of the book and your experience of reading it to your children!

Join the Launch Team for The Great Big Sad

The Great Big Sad releases soon and I’d love for you to join the launch team! What’s a launch team, you ask? It’s a team of people who get to read the book before anyone else and then spread the word about the book.

How do you join the team?

1. Register to join the team here. Once registered, you’ll receive a digital copy of the book in your email as well as images you can share on social media. The first fifty people who participate in launch team duties receive a free hard copy of the book once it releases.

2. In addition, you can participate in the launch team’s Facebook group. Meet other readers and talk about the book together. I will be participating as well and look forward to interacting with you about the book. To join that group, click here.

Coming Soon: The Great Big Sad

Grief and loss. It’s a reality we all experience at some point in our lives. It’s something we don’t think about until it happens. Perhaps you remember the first person of significance in your life who died, how you felt, how you grieved. Grief always hits us in ways we could not have anticipated. It is painful. It’s multi-layered. It’s often complicated. It comes in waves. And it never really goes away.

What makes grief all that more challenging is when we need to help our children navigate their own grief. How do we walk alongside our children as they face the loss of someone they loved and cherished? How do we help them when we are caught up in our own grief? How do we point them to Christ in the midst of such sorrow?

My third book in the series of books about siblings, Josh and Mia, releases soon. You may have read Tell God How You Feel or God Hears Your Heart—both books are directed at helping children learn to bring their emotions to the Lord. The Great Big Sad follows Josh and Mia as they hear the hard news that a beloved relative has died. We see them respond to the news in their own way. Throughout the book, they learn ways to express their grief, to talk about it with others, and even ways to honor their loved one’s memory. They also find comfort and hope in the gospel and the promise of the resurrection.

The book includes a letter to parents, helping parents with practical tips in coming alongside their children as they grieve. There are also discussion questions to use with children to talk about what they learned from the story. While The Great Big Sad is the story about a hard and painful loss, it’s also a hope-filled book, one that points children to Jesus.

The Great Big Sad is available for pre-order now. Sign ups for a launch team will be up soon. Stay tuned to The Great Big Sad landing page here on the blog for a link to sign up. Launch team members will receive early access to the book and help spread the word about its release. I hope you will join us!

When Grief Makes You Weary

When the calendar flipped to the new year, I didn’t feel that usual burst of inspiration to do all the “new year” things. You know, like organizing my pantry or making resolutions of improvements I want to make in my life or creating a wish list of books to read in 2023. I didn’t get out my calendar and make plans for the future. In fact, just the thought of setting a goal or making a resolution made me weary.

I know not everyone is into making goals at the start of the new year. And I know not everyone likes to organize their life or plan ahead, but I do. So when I wasn’t motivated to do so, I had to pause and consider why that might be.

Then I remembered. Grief.

The past year for me—actually, the past few years, if I’m honest—was filled with losses, both big and small. Some loss was hard to define, like when I closed the chapter on many years as a homeschooling parent. Other losses felt confusing, like when my son left home for college and I felt a mixture of sadness for me and happiness for him. And then there was the most recent loss of my father back in November, a loss which really began the year before when we first learned he had Alzheimer’s and then had to spend a year watching him fade away.

The truth is, grief, in all its forms, is tiring. It makes even simple, everyday responsibilities challenging. It’s like slogging through squishy mud where your shoes get sucked in with each step. Activities that you usually complete without a thought all of a sudden require significant work. You are physically and emotionally drained. Spent by the smallest efforts.

It was helpful for me to realize this and to acknowledge that I am not super-human. After a series of losses, I can’t expect to just carry on as usual. I need to take time to rest. I need to acknowledge what I have lost and work through them.

One recent morning, I read in Psalm 119: “I am weary from grief, strengthen me through your word” (Psalm 119:28, CSB). The psalmist is a long time companion for me and he often reminds me of what is true. The psalm doesn’t describe the situation which brought the psalmist grief. Was it grief over the loss of a loved one? Grief over personal sin? Over something happening in the nation as a whole? Grief over the hard circumstances of his life? Whatever the reason, the psalmist resonates with my own heart: grief is tiring. But he then reminds me that strength is available; it’s found in the word of God.

Throughout the Bible, God speaks to those who are weary and promises them rest. He doesn’t tell them to get their act together or just “get over” their circumstances. He doesn’t call them to self-rescue. Instead, he invites them to find rest in himself. He promises life and strength through communion with him. He feeds and sustains his people by his word. Even more, the word of God breathes life into the dead spaces of our lives. This is good news for those who are weary from grief.

I can’t help but think of Ezekiel and the Valley of Dry Bones. God brought Ezekiel to a valley scattered with bones. Ezekiel describes the bones as “very many” and “very dry.” There is no life to be found in them. I can only imagine what such a valley looked like. God asks him, “Son of man, can these bones live?” (Ez. 37:3). God then gives him words to speak, to prophecy over the bones and at his words, an amazing thing happens. The bones return to life! Ezekiel watches as the bones come together with great rattling. Then sinew. flesh, and skin come upon them. God then tells him to, “Prophesy to the breath; prophesy, son of man, and say to the breath, Thus says the Lord God: Come from the four winds, O breath, and breathe on these slain, that they may live” (Ez. 37:9). Just like at creation when God spoke and life began, Ezekiel speaks the words of the Lord and life is resurrected; the bones return to life. From barrenness comes new birth; from emptiness comes fullness; from sadness comes great joy.

This story in Ezekiel points to the way the Spirit breathes life into our dead souls so that we can respond in faith to the call of the gospel. And it’s a reminder of the power of God’s word in all the lifeless spaces of our lives. It’s good news for the weary and faint of heart. It’s good news for those who grieve.

May the psalmist’s prayer be our prayer as well: “I am weary from grief, strengthen me through your word.” Like the psalmist, we can engage with God in our grief and cry out to him in our weariness. We can ask him to renew our strength. We can pray for resurrection in our own valleys of dry bones. And as we encounter him through the Scripture, we can expect great things. For the One who spoke and said “Let there be light” will bring light to rise upon the darkness of our days. He will bring new life. He will strengthen the weary heart.

Photo by Marcus Ganahl on Unsplash

What the Gospel Says to Those Who Suffer

He’s forgotten how to walk.

This thought hit me as I gripped by father’s arm and urged him forward across the living room. I found myself instructing him: Push down on your cane. Lift your foot. Put it down. Push down on your cane again. As we approached the chair he wanted to sit in, I again coached him through the steps required for him to turn around and sit back into the chair safely.

Later, he turned to me and asked, “What is your name?”

“Christina,” I responded. “What your name?” I asked in return.

He paused and with a bit of hesitation, told me his name. I smiled and nodded.

I handed him the photo book I gave him for Christmas last year. The one that had pictures of my family with our names and facts about us. It includes photos of my boys, one in his football uniform, the other in his cross country uniform. He keeps the album next to his chair to flip through when he wants to remember something.

It wasn’t an hour later that he shared with me a memory of visiting me where we used to live in Florida. He described the neighborhood and details about our house. But then another hour later, he was staring off into space, lost in world of his own.

My husband and I made this trip after learning that my father’s Alzheimer’s had worsened and my mother needed help. It made matters worse that hurricane Ian had just whipped through Florida and the power was out everywhere. On our drive down the interstate, we past one power truck after another, pickups pulling large generators, and disaster response teams. They were all headed to meet the needs of people after a horrific storm.

We were headed to see how we could help in my parent’s personal storm.

Alzheimer’s is everything you hear about and more. It’s as heartbreaking as you can imagine. It is debilitating. It causes confusion and fear. Most of all, it’s a thief, first of treasured memories, then of basic life skills. It’s like taking apart a puzzle, one piece at a time. But not in any kind of order; rather, in a random sort of way. The picture retains its outer shape, but the inside has holes scattered throughout. Those holes only get bigger and bigger.

Until there’s no picture left at all.

I have to believe that the gospel has something to say to those suffering the wretched horror of Alzheimer’s or every other disease we experience in life. It has to say something to those who find themselves at death’s waiting room, not knowing when their name will be called. It has to say something to those who care for the suffering, who pour themselves out day and night to meet the needs of a loved one who can’t do for themselves anymore.

The gospel has to speak to those who suffer.

And it does. In fact the entire Bible is the story of a God who cared about his people’s suffering so much, he entered into time and history in order to do something about it. Whenever I experience personal suffering and I need to preach the gospel to my heart, to remind myself of who God is and what he has done and why that matters in the dark moments of life, I always return to the beginning of the story. In returning to the beginning, we are reminded that diseases such as Alzheimer’s find their origins in the fall of man, for when God created the world, there was no illness. There was no decay. Our first parent’s bodies worked as they were created to. They had no aches or pains—no disease that ravaged and destroyed the bodies God had made. Their lives were complete and whole. It wasn’t until that moment in the garden where Adam and Eve broke God’s law and ate from the Tree that sin then entered the world, and along with it, sickness and death.

All disease traces its roots back to that day. That’s why we are right to grieve the physical illnesses and pains of life, because they do not belong; they are not part of God’s original creation.

But God showed his grace to our parents that day when he found them attempting to hide from him, ashamed of what they had done. God not only covered their sin and shame, but he also made a promise, what theologians call the proto-evangelium—the first gospel. In Genesis 3:15, God promised a rescuer, one who would go up against Satan and defeat him—one who would rescue us from the wretched curse of sin and death.

Jesus came to fulfill that promise. He came to conquer sin and death. He came to break the curse of sin that separates us from the One who made us. And he did so through his perfect life and sacrificial death on our behalf. The gospel assures those who suffer that our Savior suffered for us so that we will not suffer for all eternity. He made us right with God so that now, through faith in Christ, we have the assurance of eternity forever in a place where there is no more sin, sickness, or sorrow. We are cleansed from sin, forgiven, and made new creations. Because Jesus rose from the grave, he ensured our own resurrection at the last day. On that day, we will have bodies that are whole and complete, free from sin, and free from the ravages of illness and disease. What a glorious thing to imagine!

The gospel not only gives us hope for the future, but it also gives us hope right now in the present. It tells us that our Savior knows our pain; he knows our suffering. The Bible calls him the “Man of Sorrows.” “Surely he has borne our griefs and carried our sorrows; yet we esteemed him stricken, smitten by God, and afflicted. But he was pierced for our transgressions; he was crushed for our iniquities; upon him was the chastisement that brought us peace, and with his wounds we are healed” (Is. 53:4-5). The author to the Hebrews says, “For we do not have a high priest who is unable to sympathize with our weaknesses, but one who in every respect has been tempted as we are, yet without sin. Let us then with confidence draw near to the throne of grace, that we may receive mercy and find grace to help in time of need” (4:15-16). We have a compassionate Savior who knows what life is like in a fallen world. He calls us to come to the throne and bear our lay our burdens before him. And he promises grace and help in our time of need.

Even more, when he left to return to the Father, Jesus sent his Spirit who now lives within his people. The Spirit fills us with hope as he reminds us of God’s word, as he counsels and comforts our weary hearts, as he equips and enables us to do the work we are called to, and as he transforms us into the image of Christ. We have the very Spirit of Christ living within us. The same Spirit that raised Christ from the dead is at work in our hearts. It is this Spirit who even now prays for us when we are too weary to pray for ourselves. “Likewise the Spirit helps us in our weakness. For we do not know what to pray for as we ought, but the Spirit himself intercedes for us with groanings too deep for words. And he who searches hearts knows what is the mind of the Spirit, because the Spirit intercedes for the saints according to the will of God” (Rom. 8:26-27).

Over the past year, my parents’ days were reduced to the square feet of their house, where the routine was consistent, making life predictable and safe for my dad. One routine was their evening Bible study where my mom read aloud to my dad. I don’t know how much it impacted him in recent weeks as his disease worsened, but I pray that the words of life and the promises of God’s grace for him in Christ—words he’s heard his whole life—brings comfort and peace as he enters into another stage of his disease.

It was hard to see my father so debilitated. I felt helpless. It grieved my heart. It’s not right for a child to instruct a parent in how to do the basic things of life. It reverses the natural order of things. In those moments of helplessness, I just kept praying, “Father, please provide.” He did and I know he will continue to do so. My father is now in a long term care facility where he will receive the care he needs—until the day when he meets his Savior face to face.

Life in this fallen world is hard. It’s painful. It’s filled with sorrow. But for those who trust in Christ, we do not grieve as those who have no hope. For our hope is found in a person, our Savior, who suffered on our behalf, and who will one day return to take away our suffering once and for all.

Father in heaven, I pray for all those who are wounded by the effects of life in this fallen world, whose bodies betray them by sickness and disease. The sorrow and fear they feel is great and at times just as debilitating as the disease. And just as great for those who provide care. I pray that you would comfort the hurting with your perfect love. I pray you would shower your grace upon them, that they would know the depths of your love for them. That you would be with them. That you would sustain them and carry them. Until that day when Jesus returns to make all things new. In Jesus’ name, amen.

Photo by Dominik Scythe on Unsplash

He Knows Our Sorrows

Have you ever watched a television series or a movie that was a real tear jerker? Maybe it was something that everyone raved about and then you watch it and afterward felt like you’d experienced emotional whiplash. When that happens to me, I then want to go back to that friend who recommended it and ask, “Why did you do that to me?”

It’s not as though I don’t like tear jerkers; I’m just not always emotionally ready to watch something that will make me cry. I like to be prepared beforehand to know I am going to walk away from a television show or movie feeling emotionally exhausted.

If only we had such a choice in real life. If only we could choose the time and date when we are emotionally prepared to experience something heavy and hard. If only we could push pause on difficult times of life or better, change the channel all together.

We know all too well that real life is not like that. All too often, the sorrows of life come upon us when we least expect it. And there’s no pushing pause or changing the channel. That’s because life in a fallen world is hard. We experience loss and heartache and trial on the regular. Jesus himself said that we would have troubles and sorrows in this world (Jn. 16:33). Peter instructed us to not be surprised by trials when they come (1 Pet. 4:12).

While the hardships of real life are nothing like watching them unfold on a movie screen, we do have a compassionate Savior who knows and understands the sorrows we bear. “For we do not have a high priest who is unable to sympathize with our weaknesses, but one who in every respect has been tempted as we are, yet without sin” (Heb. 4:15). Our Savior knew well the grief and fear, hardship and poverty, rejection and injustice, temptation and loneliness we face in this fallen world (Heb. 2:17).

Jesus Christ was born not in a castle, but in a stable. His parents were not royalty; his father was a poor carpenter. He was rejected by the people of his own hometown. John tells us that Jesus knew grief as he wept at the grave of his friend Lazarus. He was betrayed by Judas, mere hours after he washed his feet. On the night before he was arrested, he cried out to the Father in lament, asking that the cup be taken from him, all the while trusting in his Father’s will. As he anticipated what was to come, his agony was so great, he sweat drops of blood. HIs friends then went on to abandon him at his darkest hour. Upon his arrest, he was mocked, beaten, and crucified for our sins. Isaiah sums up the sufferings of our Savior well: “Surely he has borne our griefs and carried our sorrows; yet we esteemed him stricken, smitten by God, and afflicted. But he was pierced for our transgressions; he was crushed for our iniquities; upon him was the chastisement that brought us peace, and with his wounds we are healed” (Is. 53:4-5).

The fact that our Savior knows what it is to suffer life in a fallen world is important; it reminds us that he was both fully human and divine. In his humanity, he had to experience suffering to become a perfect sacrifice in our place. John Calvin wrote, “Certainly those who imagine that the Son of God was exempt from human passions do not truly and sincerely acknowledge him to be a man.” He also cautioned, “if we are ashamed that Christ should experience fear and sorrow, our redemption will perish and be lost.” The fact that Jesus felt such intense emotions should encourage us in our own sorrows for we have a Savior who understands our pain—so much so, he was willing to bear the weight of sin to set us free.

Friends, we are not alone. We have a Savior who has gone before us. We have a Savior who knows and understands and cares for all our sorrows. The psalmist wrote that God keeps a count of all our tears; he stores them in a bottle; they are recorded in his book (Ps. 56:8).

Our sorrows matter to God.

What then are we to do with our sorrows? We do what Jesus did: we bring them to God in prayer. We lament. We cry out to the God who hears us. “In my distress I called upon the LORD; to my God I cried for help. From his temple he heard my voice, and my cry to him reached his ears” (Ps. 18:6). And he hears us because of Jesus Christ. Through faith in the Son’s work on our behalf, we are brought into the family of God. He are adopted as his children; we belong to him. This means we have full rights and free access to the Father; there are no barriers that keep us from him. “Let us then with confidence draw near to the throne of grace, that we may receive mercy and find grace to help in time of need” (Heb. 4:16).

It’s true: real life is nothing like it is in the movies; it’s harder. We can’t walk out when we don’t like a particular scene. We can’t push pause until we are ready to engage. But what’s far better is having a perfect Savior who has gone before us. A Savior who knows our cares. A Savior who has born our sorrows. Let us cry out to the One who hears and cares for all our sorrows.

Photo by Aaron Burden on Unsplash