This is the first post in a four-part series exploring the shape of Christian spirituality. If you prefer to listen you can do so here, at Apple Podcasts, or at Spotify.
Letting go is at the heart of Christian spirituality.
Trailing the hearse, we turned off the paved two-lane road onto a narrow dirt track. Vast fields lay on either side. After about a mile, a tiny graveyard appeared on our right. A mound of freshly dug earth marked the spot of the newest grave.
Once we had gathered under the rustic pavilion, I choked out the familiar words:
“Earth to earth, ashes to ashes, dust to dust.”
The pallbearers lowered our granddaughter’s coffin into the rich Louisiana soil. Addi was eight years old. Our hearts are still aching.
Condolences have arrived by phone, text, email, letter, and card. People ask me how I’m doing. I say, “I’m grieving. But I’m okay.”
Grief is a long, hard, uneven emotional ride. My counselor friends have much to teach us about the rhythms of mourning and how to navigate them. I have nothing to add to their wisdom. But I do have a few insights to share about the spirituality of grief.
After all, grieving is soul work. At least, that’s how Christian tradition sees it. And I’m experiencing it that way. As it turns out, grieving is about letting go. And letting go is at the very core of all authentic Christian spiritual practices.
Jesus himself told us this. Only, he said it in startling terms — terms designed to get our attention:
Whoever comes to me and does not hate father and mother, wife and children, brothers and sisters, yes, and even life itself, cannot be my disciple. (Luke 14:26)
On the face of it, this does not sound like Jesus. Hate? Really? Jesus is the one who tells us that life is all about love. Love God. Love your neighbor. Completely.
So let’s substitute hate for something else. Let’s try let go:
Whoever comes to me and does not let go of father and mother, wife and children, brothers and sisters, yes, and even life itself, cannot be my disciple. (Luke 14:26)
I admit, this is not a translation from the Greek original. Still, it strikes me as consistent with the spirit of what Jesus is getting at.
In Jesus, God is giving himself utterly to us. It’s up to us to give ourselves back — or not. And God is not asking for this, that, or the other sliver of our lives. God wants our whole being.
C. S. Lewis imagines Jesus saying something like this:
Give me all of you! I don’t want so much of your time, so much of your talents and money, and so much of your work. I want YOU! ALL OF YOU! … No half measures will do. (Mere Christianity)
And here’s the paradox of the Christian path: when we give ourselves to Christ, he gives us back our true self — the Beloved.
By now you may be wondering what this has to do with grieving. Here it is: I express my grief through a spiritual practice—the practice of letting Addi go. Of giving her over to Christ. And, again paradoxically, that is how I receive her back.
There’s an old poem, frequently recited at funerals, that says it well:
We give them back to Thee, dear Lord, who gavest them to us; yet as Thou dost not lose them in giving, so we have not lost them by their return. Not as the world giveth, givest Thou, O Lover of Souls. What Thou gavest, Thou takest not away, for what is Thine is ours always if we are Thine.
So you see, I’m grieving. And this is why I’m okay.
This reflection is part of the series The Shape of Christian Spirituality.
Part 1: Letting Go: The Spiritual Shape of Grief
Part 2: Openness to God: The Spiritual Posture at the Heart of Christian Life
Part 3: What Makes Spiritual Practices Christian? Secular and Religious Spiritual Pathways
Part 4: Becoming the Beloved: The Eternal Trajectory of Our Spiritual Habits
Some Good Writing about Grief
, The Grieving Place, The Good Grief Guide with Christine Vaughan Davies, Mourning Mom Time TravelsFood for Thought
“The ego hates losing – even to God.”—Richard Rohr, Falling Upward
“I will not say: do not weep; for not all tears are an evil.”—J.R.R Tolkien, The Return of the King
“You will lose someone you can’t live without, and your heart will be badly broken, and the bad news is that you never completely get over the loss of your beloved. But this is also the good news. They live forever in your broken heart that doesn’t seal back up. And you come through. It’s like having a broken leg that never heals perfectly—that still hurts when the weather gets cold, but you learn to dance with the limp.”—Anne Lamott, Bird by Bird
Schedule me for your event…..
My colleague Holly Davis is now scheduling me for speaking events in 2026. Click her name or the button below to get on my speaking calendar. I love connecting with people face-to-face. Retreats and conferences are a great way to do that.
From your tender and vulnerable
share, you have given a gift of hope to those who mourn. Remembering you in prayer.
Thank you for these helping words as my grief has reopened recently. Anne Lamont’s words are especially helpful. Thanks for sharing. You all remain in my prayers.