Week 6: Grieving with Hope

Week 6 – Voice Recording 1

Grieving with Hope

Hello, and welcome to Week 6.

This week, we are looking at something that touches almost every heart that has walked through trauma: grief.

Not only grief over death, but grief over what we lost — safety, childhood, trust, health, years that feel stolen. Grief over what should have been, but never was.

Our Scripture focus is from 1 Thessalonians 4:13–14:

“But I would not have you to be ignorant, brethren, concerning them which are asleep, that ye sorrow not, even as others which have no hope. For if we believe that Jesus died and rose again, even so them also which sleep in Jesus will God bring with him.”

Notice carefully what Paul does not say. He does not say, “Do not sorrow.” He says, do not sorrow as those who have no hope.

Christian grief is not the absence of tears. It is sorrow anchored in resurrection.

Trauma often freezes grief. Some of us were not allowed to grieve when the loss happened. We had to survive. We had to function. We had to carry on.

But ungrieved sorrow does not disappear. It lodges itself in the body. It returns in waves. It shows up in tears that feel out of proportion. It surfaces in anniversaries, songs, or quiet evenings.

God does not rebuke grief. He welcomes it.

Naomi in the book of Ruth lost her husband and both her sons. She returned to Bethlehem and said:

“Call me not Naomi, call me Mara: for the Almighty hath dealt very bitterly with me.” (Ruth 1:20)

She did not pretend. She did not sanitise her pain. She named it.

And yet, her story did not end there.

Through Ruth, God was quietly weaving redemption. At the end of the book, the women of Bethlehem say:

“Blessed be the Lord, which hath not left thee this day without a kinsman…” (Ruth 4:14)

Grief was not Naomi’s final chapter.

And grief is not yours either.

Isaiah 41:10 tells us:

“Fear thou not; for I am with thee… I will strengthen thee; yea, I will help thee; yea, I will uphold thee with the right hand of my righteousness.”

In grief, we often feel emptied out. Naomi said, “I went out full, and the Lord hath brought me home again empty.”

But emptiness is not abandonment.

God is especially near in grief. Psalm 34:18 says:

“The Lord is nigh unto them that are of a broken heart.”

And perhaps most tenderly of all, we remember that Jesus wept.

John 11:35 — “Jesus wept.”

He knew He was about to raise Lazarus. He knew resurrection was coming. And still, He wept.

Which means this: tears are not a lack of faith.

You are allowed to grieve what you lost.

You are allowed to grieve who you might have been.

You are allowed to grieve what was taken.

But we do not grieve alone. And we do not grieve without hope.

Because death is not final.

Loss is not ultimate.

Christ is risen.

And one day:

“God shall wipe away all tears from their eyes.” (Revelation 21:4)

Until that day, we grieve — but we grieve leaning forward into resurrection.

This week, I encourage you not to suppress grief if it surfaces. Bring it to the Lord. Write it. Speak it. Pray it.

Let grief move through you in the presence of Christ, not in isolation.

He holds you even here.

Week 6 – “Going Deeper” Recording Transcript

Grieving the Losses Trauma Leaves Behind

In this Going Deeper session, we are going to look more closely at the layers of grief in complex trauma.

Because cPTSD is rarely about one loss.

It is cumulative.

You may be grieving:

• The loss of safety

• The loss of innocence

• The loss of healthy attachment

• The loss of years spent surviving

• The loss of a relationship that never became what it should have been

• The loss of trust — even in your own perceptions

Sometimes the hardest grief is not over someone who died, but over something that never existed.

The father who never protected.

The mother who never nurtured.

The childhood that never felt safe.

That grief can feel complicated. Even confusing. Because we are grieving something invisible.

And yet Scripture makes space for this.

Lamentations 3 shows us Jeremiah grieving the devastation of Jerusalem. He says:

“My soul hath them still in remembrance, and is humbled in me.” (Lamentations 3:20)

Grief humbles us. It exposes our vulnerability. It reminds us we are not in control.

But the very next words are crucial:

“This I recall to my mind, therefore have I hope.” (Lamentations 3:21)

Grief and hope can coexist.

Trauma can make us afraid of grief. We may fear that if we begin to cry, we will never stop. That if we open the door, the pain will overwhelm us.

But suppressed grief does not heal us. Processed grief does.

Processing grief does not mean reliving trauma. It means acknowledging loss in the presence of Christ.

Here are three deeper reflections for this week:

First, grief is not regression.

If you thought you were “doing well” and suddenly feel sorrow again, that does not mean you are going backwards. Healing is layered. Grief comes in waves. This is normal.

Second, grief is not weakness.

The world tells us to be strong by being stoic. Scripture tells us strength is found in dependence.

Christ Himself was “a man of sorrows, and acquainted with grief.” (Isaiah 53:3)

If grief were weakness, Jesus would not have wept.

Third, grief prepares us for glory.

Paul writes:

“For our light affliction, which is but for a moment, worketh for us a far more exceeding and eternal weight of glory.” (2 Corinthians 4:17)

Trauma tells us suffering is meaningless.

The gospel tells us suffering is not wasted.

One day, every unjust loss will be reversed.

Every tear accounted for.

Every wrong addressed.

Every absence filled.

Until then, we live in the tension.

We grieve what was.

We trust what will be.

If grief feels heavy this week, do something tangible.

Write a letter to what you lost.

Light a candle and pray.

Sit quietly and let yourself name the sorrow.

Read Psalm 13 slowly.

And when you finish, speak resurrection aloud.

Say:

“Because Jesus rose, this is not the end.”

Grief does not get the final word.

Christ does.

And He is making all things new.