Joni’s Heart on Grief
“‘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
If you are experiencing grief today, first, I want you to know that you are not alone. My heart goes out to you—and so does our Savior’s—as you walk through this moment or season of loss and pain. But still, the suffering of grief can feel unbearable. It’s why I’ve always considered grief a kind of death. And if you feel that way, I understand, except the grief I have experienced doesn’t involve a grave or a tombstone… My grief was for my body, a paralyzed body that treasured all the beautiful memories of what once was.

When I dove into shallow water—bang! Suddenly, my life as I knew it was gone. I broke my neck and lost the ability to use my hands or legs. I also lost all my hopes for my future, my potential, and my dreams. And this is why I have such sympathy for people who have lost a precious loved one to cancer, a degenerative disease, old age, or a fatal accident. Suddenly, that one you love is gone.
My own experience with grief is part of why I love to come alongside people who are grieving. And it’s a journey! I recall Randy Alcorn saying when he lost his wife… “Grief doesn’t follow a tidy timeline. It’s not something you ‘get over.’”
The consolation of “just being there”

I think of my friend, Jane, who lost her husband, Jonathan, in his 50s. The family had no clue that he was in danger of heart failure. Jonathan never complained of chest pain. But one night, right before bedtime, Jane left their room to get a drink. When she returned, her husband was on the floor. She rushed to revive him, yelling to their three adult children to call 911. Medics arrived within minutes, but hard as they tried, they could not save him. Jane laid beside him, wailing. She hugged her children and rocked back and forth.
The next morning, when I got word, Ken and I immediately drove to see Jane—just to bring our presence and the comfort that comes from being there. But I tell you, her grief was so enormous, she was utterly inconsolable. And so, Ken and I were just there, praying. And occasionally, I quietly sang a few hymns.
Jesus Christ, the Man of Sorrows

Now, Jane is no longer inconsolable. But she is still mourning the loss of her precious husband in a way that God would want her to mourn. She trusts our Savior, Jesus Christ, of whom it says in Isaiah 53 verse 3 was a Man of Sorrows and acquainted with grief. He knows our deepest pains. This is the God that Jane trusts. She recognizes her absolute need of God’s promises, and she has anchored herself to the Word of God; holding fast to 1 Thessalonians 4:13–14 where the Apostle Paul writes:
“Dear brothers and sisters, we want you to know what will happen to the believers who have died so you will not grieve like people who have no hope. For since we believe that Jesus died and was raised to life again, we also believe that when Jesus returns, God will bring back with him the believers who have died.” (NLT)
Don’t you love that promise? Jane does, too. She’s not grieving the wrong way, without hope as if she would never see her husband again. She is grieving—that is, Jane is still crying; she’s still often blindsided by huge pangs of loss—but that’s to be expected. She is moving slowly through it. She carries grief with her. And as she does, it is changing her. Her grief is not smaller, but her capacity to hold it has gotten bigger. Jane moves through life a little more thoughtfully (and that’s not a bad thing).

As she leans on Jesus in her grieving process, Jane sets a good example. She treasures joy-filled moments with her children. She is trying new activities and hobbies, meeting new people, and slowly healing, knowing full well that the loss of Jonathan is reshaping her soul. And my goodness, she now possesses a livelier hope of heaven. She’s learning to look forward. And I think that Jane is seeing that with time, her joy and sorrow can live side by side.
That’s what 2 Corinthians 6:10 is all about… that, as servants of God, we are called to be “sorrowful, yet always rejoicing; poor, yet making many rich; having nothing, and yet possessing everything.” See, you can experience both grief and joy simultaneously. While you may still face great sadness, it is possible to find a deeper, abiding joy in Jesus Christ. And so, Jane and you and I focus on eternal things where our hope serves as an anchor for our wounded hearts.
Grieving with hope and joy

Believe me, in my wheelchair, my heart is anchored in heaven. I do not grieve the loss of a functioning body as “…those who have no hope…” like it says in 1 Thessalonians. My grief still hurts, but it is infused with hope because I know this pain is only temporary. Jesus’s resurrection guarantees that.
For instance, recently I lost the nerves and muscles in my right arm. And it happened so fast. As a result, I can no longer feed myself. Oh, how I mourned the loss of that precious little bit of functioning ability. But my sorrow is laced with joy… I’m sorrowful yet always rejoicing because I’m looking forward to the day when God Himself will wipe away all my tears and yours, as well.

Friend, God is not distant in our grief—He is near. And He is merciful. Infants who die are in heaven. Loved ones who know the Lord are in heaven. It doesn’t take more than a mustard-seed-sized grain of faith to ensure that. And my grief? Jesus has promised in Isaiah 35:6 that one day I’m going to jump out of this wheelchair and leap for joy! On that day, you and I will hold each other and dance and rejoice because grief will be… gone. Now that is good news for anyone who grieves!
“Then will the lame leap like a deer, and the mute tongue shout for joy. Water will gush forth in the wilderness and streams in the desert.”
Isaiah 35:6
—Joni Eareckson Tada


When Grief Overwhelms
The grief and sorrow that comes from loss – no matter how dark it feels – is only temporary. Jesus has uprooted the terror of grief and replaced it with resurrection and hope. And once you have the hope of Jesus, you can carry the sorrow without drowning. Hang on to hope!
