Treasuring loss as a valuable life experience

The gospel is a game changer. Not only are we put right with God in accepting Jesus’ finished work on the cross and in following his ways; we are empowered to live a life that cannot ultimately conquer us.

This life, however, is accorded only to true converts whom actually apply the basics of the gospel rule—which is to suffer this life well. Why do we know this is the case?

Let’s now dig into what every person needs to know before they die.

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Jesus came to save souls—every soul. And in doing that, in being saved, two things are granted to us; first, we have direct eternal access to God; second, which is the context of this article, we have power from above that reframes our attitudes and responses to life. And this has particular relevance, in this case, to our attitudes and responses to loss.

We will all undergo experiences of loss. Not one, but more. For some it’s many. For some it seems that’s all life is, loss! Within many losses, also, there is a layering affect, where many levels of loss are felt. It can feel that in losing a partner, a child, a marriage, etc, that we’re losing so much more, such do the ripples of grief extend into so many areas and relationships in our lives.

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Only in loss do we get this gospel opportunity. (Even as I read this previous sentence I’m left with mixed feelings—the worldly me thinks, “How can you ‘sensationalise’ loss,” but the Christ-centred me thinks, “Okay, this is when Christian faith finally becomes relevant in a life we can so easily live without God.”)

Let me repeat the sentence: Only in loss do we get this gospel opportunity.

Only when life turns pear-shaped and we’re thrown into a situation where our circumstances cannot be reconciled—at least in the short-term—do we become desperate to reach out for help. We must reach out to be helped.

Only in loss are we positioned to ponder, “What kind of life experience is this, and how will I and others (ultimately) benefit from this life experience?” That kind of reflection drives us to believe there is a purpose in suffering this loss.

While life is going swimmingly, let’s admit it, the gospel forever feels detached from our experience. We know its truth at a head level, but we also know at a heart level that we do not have a cross to bear at present. At least unconsciously, this causes us to feel a little far from God, which is a paradox, because we don’t need God close. This doesn’t discount experiences of joy and gratitude that we do have because life is going so well—with that we do have a connection with God!

Then what enters our life is loss. Suddenly we simply must draw on God through surrender. No longer can we get away with a superficial connection with God.

We know we must go deeper, not only because it’s essential to our survival; but also because we become patently aware, that with a level of suffering we never thought was possible, there is a reality of God that is deeper than we ever thought was possible.

Having traversed the experience of loss—after we’ve reconciled the depths of grief—we do remain connected to God at a far deeper level. We’re taken deeper in our worship, we know more because of those intensive experiences of reading our Bibles, we’ve grown in empathy and compassion, and we’re all the more grateful that we got through the worst experience of our lives thus far.

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We can cherish loss as a valuable life experience because we can. Not only that, but we need to because it’s the only way we can respond in grief with positive sincerity.

When we step out of our pain sufficiently to wonder ‘why’ we are having this experience in the context of our overall lives, and life itself, we can begin to hope that the experience will mean something someday—that it was for a purpose.

We may not be able to do this every day, for there are some days when we just can’t, but there are also days when we can, so when we can, we can, and we should try.

It’s when we try and make an assault on the Mount called Pain, striving for the purposes in it and beyond it, as a cherished life experience, that we come to see God at work; the gospel coming alive in our midst, as we cling to our cross as Jesus clung to his.

Let’s face it, if loss has arrived, no choice is availed to us to do anything other than see what we can make of it; no choice other than to deny the experience or rail against it. And neither of those choices wash for hope.

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I know it was the case for me, though it’s not the case for everyone. The only way God could truly reach me was through loss. It was the only way to get this back-slidden Christian’s attention.

What I speak of here is not about making an idol of loss. It’s about making something of the undeniable event and circumstance of loss for God even as God woos us back to hope.

None of us reckons that it is loss that gets us back on track in life. None of us counts it a truth that the experience of loss is a valuable one. I, and many I know, do attest that what I speak of here is true.

Indeed, it is highly likely that if God woos us back to Jesus through loss, we will come to treasure the life experience we’re given, even as what we valued was taken from us.

Of course, it’s only the converted who will reckon this as a work of God.

Loss is God’s way of showing us a form of life that is common to life. Until we experience more of the gamut of experience, we cannot empathise. Until we experience times when our hearts fail, we don’t have empathy for those whose hearts are failing. Much of the time it’s true; until we are broken, we don’t really fully appreciate the plight of the broken.

Photo by Ahmed Zayan on Unsplash