Grief is a funny thing, and if you allow it to run its course, it can lead you along a path of seemingly random stops. A thought here, a memory there. A smell or a taste. Perhaps it leads to laughter, or maybe eyes filled with tears.

Many of us don’t know what to do with our own grief, and I dare say that even more of us don’t know what to do with someone else’s grief. But our Lord does.

A bruised reed he will not break, and a smoldering wick he will not snuff out, till he has brought justice through to victory. (‭‭Matthew‬ ‭12:20‬ ‭NIV, emphasis mine)

God treats our pain with tenderness. He isn’t like the school-age friend who pokes our bruise and asks if it hurts. He isn’t the one-upping friend who douses what little flame we have left with their own story of pain.

He is the God who carefully and tenderly watches over our hurt until He once again brings us to the victory that He achieved for us. He doesn’t look at us awkwardly as our eyes overflow and our lips tremble. He never wonders what to say; in fact, He is okay not saying anything at all. Far from being a sign of distance, His silence is often a sign of simply being near us without trying to fix us. His Father’s heart holds us before He heals us, and as one who feels bruised and smoldering, I am thankful that He wants to do more than just make me better.

He wants to make me whole.