Care
“So don’t worry, because I am with you. Don’t be afraid, because I am your God. I will make you strong and will help you; I will support you with my right hand that saves you.” ISAIAH 41:10
Personalized Scriptures
Psalm 30:5
My weeping may stay for the night, but rejoicing comes in the morning.
Psalm 55:22
I will cast my cares on the Lord and He will sustain me; He will never let the righteous fall.
Psalms 147:3
He heals my brokenheart and binds up my wounds.
Grieving Loss
When Loss Feels Like Too Much
Nothing cuts deeper than losing someone you love—whether through death, divorce, or separation.
Sometimes, grief comes in a different form: the sudden loss of a job, an unexpected move, or a life change that leaves you feeling unmoored. The weight of sorrow can feel unbearable, as if your very soul is being crushed under it. You might find yourself asking, How could a loving God allow this kind of pain?
Grief doesn’t move in straight lines. One moment, you feel numb. The next, you’re angry. Other times, you simply feel lost. The unpredictability of it can make you question your own sanity. But hear this: grief is not a sign that something is wrong with you. It’s evidence that something is wrong with this broken world.
When Grief Feels Like Chaos
Grief doesn’t just hurt; it disorients.
You might feel a deep, aching emptiness or an irrational fear you can’t explain. One day, anger takes over—sometimes at the person who left, sometimes at yourself, sometimes at God. Other times, grief is quiet, pressing in like a heavy fog.
And then there’s the physical toll: trembling hands, sleepless nights, a stomach too tied in knots to eat. Your mind replays What if? and If only… on an endless loop.
It’s overwhelming. It’s exhausting. But it’s not permanent. You won’t always feel this way. Over time, grief reshapes itself. It doesn’t disappear, but it softens. And slowly, step by step, you will find your footing again.
Why Grief Hurts So Much
God gave us the ability to feel pain for a reason. Pain signals that something is wrong.
When a bone is broken, we limp—not because we want to, but because our body is protecting itself. Grief is the same. The emotions that surge through you—the sorrow, the anger, the confusion—are your soul’s way of saying, This was not how it was meant to be.
And you’re right. It wasn’t.
Death, separation, and loss were never part of God’s original design. When Adam and Eve chose sin, they introduced brokenness into the world. Ever since, humanity has been grieving—longing for what was lost, aching for what should have been.
This ache you feel? It’s real. And it’s proof of how deeply you loved. The deeper the love, the deeper the grief.
How Grief Heals
Grief doesn’t feel like healing. It feels like breaking.
C.S. Lewis, after losing his wife, wrote: “What do people mean when they say, ‘I am not afraid of God because I know He is good?’ Have they never been to a dentist?”
Healing often hurts. A wound must be cleaned before it can close. A broken bone must be reset before it can grow strong again. Grief feels unbearable, but God is at work—even in the pain.
Loss forces us to wrestle with big questions: Who is my true beloved? Where is my real home? These are not just sentimental thoughts; they are eternal ones.
As believers, we hold onto this promise:
"He will wipe every tear from their eyes. There will be no more death or mourning or crying or pain, for the old order of things has passed away." – Revelation 21:4
One day, every loss will be restored. Every tear will be redeemed. Until then, grief is a reminder that this world is not our home. And hope is the promise that one day, we will be whole again.
Nothing cuts deeper than losing someone you love—whether through death, divorce, or separation.
Sometimes, grief comes in a different form: the sudden loss of a job, an unexpected move, or a life change that leaves you feeling unmoored. The weight of sorrow can feel unbearable, as if your very soul is being crushed under it. You might find yourself asking, How could a loving God allow this kind of pain?
Grief doesn’t move in straight lines. One moment, you feel numb. The next, you’re angry. Other times, you simply feel lost. The unpredictability of it can make you question your own sanity. But hear this: grief is not a sign that something is wrong with you. It’s evidence that something is wrong with this broken world.
When Grief Feels Like Chaos
Grief doesn’t just hurt; it disorients.
You might feel a deep, aching emptiness or an irrational fear you can’t explain. One day, anger takes over—sometimes at the person who left, sometimes at yourself, sometimes at God. Other times, grief is quiet, pressing in like a heavy fog.
And then there’s the physical toll: trembling hands, sleepless nights, a stomach too tied in knots to eat. Your mind replays What if? and If only… on an endless loop.
It’s overwhelming. It’s exhausting. But it’s not permanent. You won’t always feel this way. Over time, grief reshapes itself. It doesn’t disappear, but it softens. And slowly, step by step, you will find your footing again.
Why Grief Hurts So Much
God gave us the ability to feel pain for a reason. Pain signals that something is wrong.
When a bone is broken, we limp—not because we want to, but because our body is protecting itself. Grief is the same. The emotions that surge through you—the sorrow, the anger, the confusion—are your soul’s way of saying, This was not how it was meant to be.
And you’re right. It wasn’t.
Death, separation, and loss were never part of God’s original design. When Adam and Eve chose sin, they introduced brokenness into the world. Ever since, humanity has been grieving—longing for what was lost, aching for what should have been.
This ache you feel? It’s real. And it’s proof of how deeply you loved. The deeper the love, the deeper the grief.
How Grief Heals
Grief doesn’t feel like healing. It feels like breaking.
C.S. Lewis, after losing his wife, wrote: “What do people mean when they say, ‘I am not afraid of God because I know He is good?’ Have they never been to a dentist?”
Healing often hurts. A wound must be cleaned before it can close. A broken bone must be reset before it can grow strong again. Grief feels unbearable, but God is at work—even in the pain.
Loss forces us to wrestle with big questions: Who is my true beloved? Where is my real home? These are not just sentimental thoughts; they are eternal ones.
As believers, we hold onto this promise:
"He will wipe every tear from their eyes. There will be no more death or mourning or crying or pain, for the old order of things has passed away." – Revelation 21:4
One day, every loss will be restored. Every tear will be redeemed. Until then, grief is a reminder that this world is not our home. And hope is the promise that one day, we will be whole again.
When the Ones Who Raised Us Start Needing Us
You’ve seen it coming, maybe even talked about it. But when it actually hits, nothing quite prepares you for it.
I’m talking about that season of life when someone you love—your mom, dad, spouse, or even a beloved in-law—starts showing signs of slowing down. Maybe it’s the forgetfulness. Maybe it’s the doctor’s reports. Maybe it’s just the way they now need help with things they used to do without a second thought.
And if you’re in that season right now, caring for someone who once cared for you, I want you to hear this: You’re not alone. And what you’re doing? It matters deeply.
1. This Isn’t Just Hard—It’s Holy
We talk a lot about serving at church. But there’s a different kind of serving that happens at home—one that doesn’t come with stage lights or applause.
It’s the ride to the doctor’s office.
It’s repeating yourself again and again with patience.
It’s making sure the meds are sorted, the meals are soft, and the towels are warm.
This is sacred work. Not glamorous, but deeply godly. Jesus said that whatever we do for “the least of these,” we’ve done for Him. And some days, the least of these is the person who once carried you.
2. Grief Isn’t Just for Funerals
There’s a grief that shows up before goodbye.
You might be watching someone you love slowly slip away—not all at once, but in pieces. And that hurts in a way that’s hard to explain.
You’re not being dramatic. You’re not weak. You’re feeling the weight of love. Let yourself feel it. And when it gets too heavy to carry alone—ask for help. Pray. Talk to someone. Let community surround you.
3. Your Role Will Shift—And That’s Okay
Maybe you’ve noticed—you’re the one reminding your dad to take his meds. You’re the one explaining the same thing to your mom for the third time today. Or maybe you’re the husband or wife now holding up the person who once held you up.
The roles flip. The dynamic changes. And honestly, it can feel strange, even unfair. But remember this: Love adapts. Love stretches. And with God’s grace, so can you.
(And hey—if family dynamics get tricky, don’t be surprised. Not everyone will agree on how things should be handled. Do your best, and give each other lots of grace.)
4. Let It Be a Family Thing
Westside Walt, if you’re trying to hold this down while also working full-time, raising kids, and trying to keep your marriage strong—you’re carrying a lot.
Here’s a tip: Don’t try to carry it alone.
Let your kids be part of the process.
Let them bring Grandma a snack.
Let them sit next to Grandpa and watch cartoons.
Let them pray with you over Nana’s hospital bed.
This isn’t just about teaching your kids compassion—it’s about surviving the season together. Let it be the family service project that teaches everyone about love, honor, and legacy.
5. Receive the Grace That’s Available
Caregiving isn’t easy. But it can be beautiful.
Over and over, people who walk this road describe it with words like rewarding and humbling. Why? Because there’s a special grace that shows up when you lay down your life for someone else.
God sees it. God honors it. And He will meet you in it, with strength for today and hope for tomorrow.
⸻
If you’re living this right now, we’re praying for you.
You’re showing up when it’s hard. You’re loving when it’s inconvenient. You’re honoring those who paved the way for you.
And in doing that—you’re being Jesus with skin on.
Let us know how we can pray or come alongside you. You’re not alone in this.
I’m talking about that season of life when someone you love—your mom, dad, spouse, or even a beloved in-law—starts showing signs of slowing down. Maybe it’s the forgetfulness. Maybe it’s the doctor’s reports. Maybe it’s just the way they now need help with things they used to do without a second thought.
And if you’re in that season right now, caring for someone who once cared for you, I want you to hear this: You’re not alone. And what you’re doing? It matters deeply.
1. This Isn’t Just Hard—It’s Holy
We talk a lot about serving at church. But there’s a different kind of serving that happens at home—one that doesn’t come with stage lights or applause.
It’s the ride to the doctor’s office.
It’s repeating yourself again and again with patience.
It’s making sure the meds are sorted, the meals are soft, and the towels are warm.
This is sacred work. Not glamorous, but deeply godly. Jesus said that whatever we do for “the least of these,” we’ve done for Him. And some days, the least of these is the person who once carried you.
2. Grief Isn’t Just for Funerals
There’s a grief that shows up before goodbye.
You might be watching someone you love slowly slip away—not all at once, but in pieces. And that hurts in a way that’s hard to explain.
You’re not being dramatic. You’re not weak. You’re feeling the weight of love. Let yourself feel it. And when it gets too heavy to carry alone—ask for help. Pray. Talk to someone. Let community surround you.
3. Your Role Will Shift—And That’s Okay
Maybe you’ve noticed—you’re the one reminding your dad to take his meds. You’re the one explaining the same thing to your mom for the third time today. Or maybe you’re the husband or wife now holding up the person who once held you up.
The roles flip. The dynamic changes. And honestly, it can feel strange, even unfair. But remember this: Love adapts. Love stretches. And with God’s grace, so can you.
(And hey—if family dynamics get tricky, don’t be surprised. Not everyone will agree on how things should be handled. Do your best, and give each other lots of grace.)
4. Let It Be a Family Thing
Westside Walt, if you’re trying to hold this down while also working full-time, raising kids, and trying to keep your marriage strong—you’re carrying a lot.
Here’s a tip: Don’t try to carry it alone.
Let your kids be part of the process.
Let them bring Grandma a snack.
Let them sit next to Grandpa and watch cartoons.
Let them pray with you over Nana’s hospital bed.
This isn’t just about teaching your kids compassion—it’s about surviving the season together. Let it be the family service project that teaches everyone about love, honor, and legacy.
5. Receive the Grace That’s Available
Caregiving isn’t easy. But it can be beautiful.
Over and over, people who walk this road describe it with words like rewarding and humbling. Why? Because there’s a special grace that shows up when you lay down your life for someone else.
God sees it. God honors it. And He will meet you in it, with strength for today and hope for tomorrow.
⸻
If you’re living this right now, we’re praying for you.
You’re showing up when it’s hard. You’re loving when it’s inconvenient. You’re honoring those who paved the way for you.
And in doing that—you’re being Jesus with skin on.
Let us know how we can pray or come alongside you. You’re not alone in this.