The Guilt of Grief

 Simon Peter said, “I am going out to fish.”

The others said, “We will go with you.” So they went out and got into the boat. They fished that night but caught nothing. John 21:3

This wee story happens after the resurrection of Jesus, and Simon Peter is caught in a grief cycle.  He is mourning his betrayal of Jesus, denying he knew him three times.  The cockerel crows and Peter weeps bitterly.  Now Jesus is back, not quite the same but still Jesus.  And Peter is lost having been the natural leader of the group, and a dear friend of Jesus.  Jesus had promised to make him the rock upon which the Church is built, but surely not now.  Yet he had brought it upon himself.  He had set himself up for the fall, and boy, did he fall.  But now what?  So he takes himself back to what he knows best.  Fishing, but wouldn’t you know, he couldn’t even do that right.  

Living in this time, for those of us who are blessed brings with it the guilt of grief.  The famous 5 stages of grief - denial, anger, bargaining, depression and acceptance are well known.  But today, I want to think about the guilt of grief, that is those who are grieving but don’t believe they have the right.  We have a roof over our head, food on the table, money to pay the bills and our families, though distanced are well.  We know of death and we mourn for friends and the community, but though the damage of the virus surrounds us, we are ‘safe’.  And yet we grieve too.  

Like everyone we grieve what was.  We mourn the loss of just dropping round to see friends, of picking up the grandchildren from school, of nipping into the shops just for a wee look-see.  We put on a brave face as our child or sibling or parent celebrates a birthday in lockdown, wondering if Zoom is a gift or a curse! 

“When will the Church be back?” - oh I’d be rich if I had a £1 for each time I’m asked that.  Heavens, I think I’d be made for life if I had the answer.  We mourn our social gatherings from the Church to the pub, the stadium to coffee shop.  I read recently that if I’d known it was the last time I was going to eat out, I’d have taken the dessert.  And you know I had to agree. 

Grief exists in us all.  And yes, for some grief is bereavement.  The tangible grief that comes with death, where life has been changed forever.  And we look with compassion upon those truly grieving and it compounds our guilt for our grief.  For surely we are just inconvenienced and normal will return one day. 

I suspect, (and remember I’m no expert), that we are like Peter.  We have gone fishing and wondering why we caught nothing.  There is no going back to what was.  What has happened cannot be undone, just like Peter couldn’t take back his betrayal.  Fishing was his old way of life, his previous normal, but that didn’t work. We can’t go back.  All we can do is move forward, and importantly let go of the guilt of grieving. 

The weight of grief is heavy enough.  It is real. It is a deep, unspoken sadness we are scared to share in case we are called out as frauds.  I want to encourage you to own your grief, in ways that are right, safe and helpful for you.  In facing our grief together,  we can move forward together, supporting and encouraging one another.  Guilt will only drag us down and cripple us, isolating us by making us out to be wrong somehow.  

In the story, Jesus encourages Peter and the others to try one more time.  This time Jesus is with them and there is more fish than they can handle. God is generous in his care, his love, his provision.  He is also able to lift the burden of guilt as he did for Peter.  Peter had to face his reality, rather than be buried under it.  We have to face our reality.  And that might take some time but eventually the journey of grief leads us to acceptance.  God can help us lift the burden of guilt, and shower us with compassion, care, and love. 

I don’t know what the future holds, but I know who holds the future. And I know that Jesus said we are blessed now.  Blessed are they who mourn for they shall be comforted.  Let God comfort you.  Let go of the guilt of grieving and trust God to comfort you in your grief.  And Lord God, may I practice what I preach! 

God bless you, 

Love Sarah 

The Confession of An Over-Achiever

The Confession of An Over-Achiever

What I know about psychology could be written on the back of a postage stamp, so please take the following as anecdotal and personal.  

This lockdown is a real struggle for ‘over-achievers’.  How do we do something when we are so limited and restricted, especially if furloughed or work has shifted from people focussed to desk duties? How do we manage the guilt of not doing things?   A number of folks I have spoken to are stuck doing the admin work that they have avoided consistently - like data entry!   And then if you have children at home there is the joy (and frustration) of school work.  Encouraging the children to sit at the table and do subjects they have no intention of doing in school (going into S3), or the relentless boredom of maths revision and spelling sucking the life out of the youngest (primary), whilst you are trying to work feels like Sisyphus pushing the boulder up the hill again and again.  

Then there is the frustration of work that has changed overnight. For me, suddenly keeping in touch with people has become less about gathering together as supporting individual households, learning how to be a natural on screen(!) and finding technology to help rather than hinder.  Yet the real challenge for ‘over-achievers’ is that they need to be seen.  The affirmation that comes from people recognising all their hard work.  It’s not for praise as such or indeed glory.  It’s more complicated than that.  It is about a sense of purpose and place, of worth and value.  The ‘over-achiever’ will always go looking for something to show that they are doing something.  

My name is Sarah and I’m an ‘over-acheiver’.  Growing up I always felt I had to achieve in order to be seen, or if I did something ‘cool’ the school bullies would leave me alone. It is a constant battlefield because being an ‘over-achiever’ is exhausting, and generally means that you find it incredibly difficult to let stuff lie.  I can’t just iron a few items, I have to empty the basket.  So as an over-achiever how do I handle lockdown?  I am running 157km in May to raise money for the Church.  I felt the need to do something, and of course, it is something visible.  It is commendable and certainly worthwhile.  

And yet constantly I live in fear of not doing enough and what people might think of me or by extension the church.  That’s some level of arrogance perhaps, but it’s not meant as that.  It is the fear of failure or letting others down or leaving a negative impression.  So often the ‘over-achiever’ isn’t looking for praise but affirmation - that they are doing enough, doing the right stuff, that they are worthwhile. You will often find ‘over-achievers’ are incredibly busy people who are always trying to please everybody! 

So how can faith talk to the ‘over-achiever’...? The scripture that comes to mind is Paul talking with the early Church in Corinth - a place full of ‘over-achievers’ in a culture that encouraged that style of life.  

Paul says: I planted the seed, and Apollos watered it. But God is the One who made it grow. So the one who plants is not important, and the one who waters is not important. Only God, who makes things grow, is important. The one who plants and the one who waters have the same purpose, and each will be rewarded for his own work.

I am God’s child, and to be honest that is my core identity.  And he is the one person I don’t need to ‘show off’ to.  He loves me, and he calls me to be Sarah. And then he puts people in my life to share the adventure.  From family and friends, to a congregation and community, to colleagues near and far, I am surrounded by people who want to build a better world with me.  We are all in this together, each playing our part, for example, whether it is shielding at home to protect our health and limited resources, or simply staying home to slow the spread, or stacking shelves as fast as possible or caring for the dying whilst wrapped in PPE - all of us count.

And then there is God himself. As we continue through the Easter season we are reminded that death is defeated, that life has won, that evil is squashed and good has overcome.  Yes, we live in troubled times.  Some like to say the war is won but the skirmishes continue.  But God is over all, and through him all things are possible. He, who created the world in its intricate beauty, and saw that it was very good, also works in partnership with human beings to care for it.  Even God values the relationship of collaborative working.  God is in it with us, and will lead us through the valley of the shadow of death.  

I have learnt over these past couple of years, that sharing the responsibility of my calling with God and with others is key to living a healthy balanced life.  And I know that this is an on-going learning curve.  And when I start worrying that I’m not doing enough, I remind myself (again and again) the Church already has a Messiah! 

God loves you, and you are doing amazingly well.  Play your part, no matter how insignificant it might feel, knowing that you have saved lives, helped angels (in PPE) and contributed to the healing of communities and neighbourhoods.  That is no small achievement! 

God bless you! May you know his peace and presence with you.

Love Sarah 

The Place of Privilege

The Place of Privilege

I know I write from a place of privilege.  I want for nothing, my family are all home - none of us are on the frontlines, my cupboards are stocked, I have a park for a garden, I can get daily exercise and my workplace is within walking distance. My family throughout the generations including my Gran (97) are all well and are their usual chirpy selves(!).  Okay, maybe not quite their usual chirpy selves. Everyone I phone to offer help to are sorted which of course is fabulous. I’d far rather that than have anyone go short.  What then can I offer into these circumstances?  What encouragement can I offer?  I know God is with you yet for many it feels like he is taking a badly time vacation.  

None of us are avoiding the troubles of this time.  And I know that God is getting the blame from some.  He is in a place of privilege it would appear.  Where is he when so many are dying?  Why isn’t he fixing the world?  Why doesn’t he do something?  As you pour out your frustration to God, you are standing in the same place as many others have before you.  Read the psalms and you will hear your emotions reflected in them. When Jesus shares the Beatitudes - it is not blessed are the rich, blessed are the privileged, blessed are the employed - Jesus says blessed are the meek, blessed are they who mourn, blessed are they who are peacemakers, blessed are the poor...

Yet even in my place of privilege I know the anxiety of this time.  I feel it for my young children, shaped by this time.  I feel it for my congregation, many of whom are shielding and missing the contact of grandchildren or good friends. I feel for the families mourning as funerals are held with a handful of people. I feel for those waiting at home anxious for news of loved ones, unable to visit even those who are in hospital with, dare I say it, normal health concerns.  I feel for those I haven’t contacted since lockdown for one reason or another.  I feel for my Gran who is in a sheltered home in Perthshire, and with whom I have had longer conversations than at any other point in our relationship.  She was in the WAF and has decided that this is better than the war because at least no-one is trying to blow her home up!  Another lady - Mary - of the same decade told me this is worse than the war because at least in war time, they could go outside and meet up, they could have groups and share together.  Both my Gran and Mary, however, are incredibly resilient and could teach us all something about hanging in there and making the best of it. 

God is with us. Whether we are in the fields of contentment, the valley of the shadow of death, or the table of our enemies, God is there. We might be like Moses, broken and lost, running from our place of privilege and wandering the desert looking after another man’s sheep wondering what happened.  Yet God is there - the bush burning but not burnt up.  We might be like Elijah, given our all, burnt out and exhausted, crushed by selfish people and crippling systems - God meets Elijah with physical sustenance, then spiritual sustenance and then a reminder that he is not alone.  We might be like Mary, sweeping house, listening to Roman soldiers bullying people in the streets, praying for freedom, when God turns up with the promised Messiah.  Paul writes that we live in the world but we are not of the world. This world is what it is and we have to take responsibility for it.  God provides us with courage, strength, wisdom, knowledge and creativity beyond any other species and with that we have responsibility.  We can make the world a better place.  We can learn from this time.  We know the value of human life is the same whatever our creed, race, religion or sexuality.  We are reminded of the value of family and friendship, previously often lost to the busyness of life.  We are blessed by those society (politicians) looked down on as ‘lower class’ workers as the first became last and the last became first.  Suddenly celebrity status means very little as we clap for key workers or thank God when the bin has been emptied.  

God is in this season.  He is present holding the hand of the dying, for I believe that God is there for every birth and present at every death. Now is the season of challenging the stereotypes of global society, building community in streets where neighbours were strangers, where communication is concentrated and focussed, where what is essential proves how much was window-dressing.  What do we truly value? 

Just as I wish I could do more to help, I wish God could too but that is not the way this world works.  Yet miracles do happen.  As the world resets, as nature heals, as we come to appreciate the real value of life, maybe there are miracles already happening.  And if I can let go of my self-importance and place of privilege, maybe I will see what is really happening, and praise God even as I pray for the sick and the dying, the fearful and struggling.  We are the people of the cross and the empty tomb - there isn’t one without the other.  But the empty tomb speaks of life not death.  Life will overcome death. 

For God so loved the world that he gave his one and only Son that whosoever believes in him will not die but have eternal life.  John 3:16

Blessed are they who mourn, for they shall be comforted. 

We live in the hope of life eternal, that what we have and see is temporary.  Nevertheless we are called to be good stewards, to look after this world, and to love God, love ourselves and love our neighbours.  We are in this together - God and humanity share responsibility, working together.  So live well in this season, open to new possibilities, open to a brighter future, and the knowledge that God will be present always, even to the end of the age. 

May God bless you richly with what you need, whatever that may be! 

Now these three remain - faith, hope and love, but the greatest of these is love. 

Love Sarah