Throwing the book across the empty room, I screamed to no one in particular. Still shattered by the suicide of my son, the text made me angry. It spoke of the sovereignty of God and how nothing happened without him allowing it. That made me angry at the author of the book, angry with God, and angry with myself for being angry at the God I so loved.
I knew I had to come to a place of peace, but it broke my heart as I curled into a fetal position crying for the loss of my son. How could God allow such a horrible thing? Why had he not stopped it? He could have intervened. Yet, he chose not to, and my son died.
My love and belief in God hadn’t changed, but I struggled to understand why he permitted my son to die and the devastation that loss brought to our family. The weight seemed too much to bear. As I watched my loved ones suffer, the sorrow felt as if it might crush us all.
Knowing the chasm would break me for sure, I pleaded with him to pull me out of the pit of despair. As God does, he answered in unexpected ways.
Writing has always been a part of who I am, so I began pouring out my thoughts and winding through them as if on a path to an unknown space I needed to find. My heart overflowed with pain and suffering—that, I expected—but there was joy, blessings, thanksgiving, and hope intermingled as well. As I lay bare my feelings in words, I encountered the God I loved. I found Him there—the same, unchanged—just as He said. Sovereign over all. Even the death of my son.
Lament was in the space I found. It became my sustenance. I studied it; I experienced it; I longed for it. As I learned more about lament and searched the Bible for Scriptural examples, I wondered how I had lived so long without understanding its power. In the Psalms, as I read David’s laments, I became overwhelmed with emotion as I recognized his words as similar to ones I had also cried out to God.
Be gracious to me, O LORD, for I am languishing; heal me, O LORD, for my bones are troubled. My soul also is greatly troubled.
But you, O LORD—how long?
Psalm 6:2-3 ESV
I am weary with my moaning;
every night I flood my bed with tears;
I drench my couch with my weeping.
Psalm 6:6 ESV
Repeatedly, I found solace in my Lord as He revealed himself to me through my own sacred lament and those recorded in his Word. Through lament, I first cried out to God about the struggles, pain, and sorrow—everything I felt so deep in my soul. Then, I praised Him for His grace and mercy and for who He is. I received the comfort of his understanding, and He granted me the peace I thought I could never find again.
Of course, I continue to grieve the loss of my son. I will until I am with him again. However, my relationship with the King has deepened into something I had never known and didn’t even know to ask for. My heart and life are God’s in a way I had not experienced before my son’s death. I know more about His character and who I am in Him. I have experienced Isaiah 41:10, where God promises He is with us, will help us, and will hold on to us:
Fear not, for I am with you;
be not dismayed, for I am your God;
I will strengthen you, I will help you,
I will uphold you with my righteous right hand.
(ESV)
God was with my son in those painful last moments, and, in a blink of an eye, my son was with Him for eternity. Although I don’t pretend to understand everything and wish my son were still with us, I have come to accept and appreciate God’s sovereignty over my loss.
This essay was originally posted on the website: https://www.sarahewestfall.com/essay-series/2021-4-9/finding-peace-sovereignty-god-faith-griffin-sims
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