Why I question one particular prayer in times of grief
It’s Good Friday and I’m reflecting on death.
Over the past few years, there has been so much loss and grief among members of my community.
Children losing parents. Parents losing children. Husbands and wives losing their spouses. Friends who don’t know how much longer they might have with their ailing loved ones. It’s heartbreaking.
And when these losses occur, what words might possibly comfort those who mourn?
When I lost my mother, then my father, many words of intended comfort came my way—and I say “intended” because not all of the words were comforting. Sometimes, a poor choice of words was even hurtful.
There were times when I wished people would simply say “I’m sorry” or “My condolences” rather than attempt to say something and make sense of someone’s death.
Which is what many of us try to do. Especially Christians.
And lately, there’s one prayer I’ve been hearing that bothers me.
The “God is Sovereign” Prayer
This prayer is often uttered to someone who is grieving a recent loss, and it goes something like this:
God, we know that you are good and that you are sovereign, and that this is all part of your plan. We know that you will use this to accomplish your good will and be glorified through this.
It’s not the content that I take issue with (for the most part, anyway). It’s the choice of words and the timing of it all.
Yes, I believe that God is good.
Yes, I believe that God is sovereign over all of his creation.
Yes, I believe that God has a plan.
And yes, I believe that God can redeem situations that seem irredeemable to us.
But how helpful is it to say these words to a child who has unexpectedly lost a parent? Or to the victim of abuse? Or to someone who has lost everything in a disaster?
God, we know that you are good and that you are sovereign, and that this is all part of your plan. We know that you will use this to accomplish your good will and be glorified through this.
What might the hearer imagine God to be when they hear this? An iron-fisted king who schemes to take away loved ones, allow abuse, or destroy someone’s life for his own glory?
And why do we often feel a need to emphasize God’s sovereignty but not Jesus’ presence with us?
Isn’t Jesus Immanuel, which means “God with us?”
Isn’t Jesus the Incarnation—the Son of God, the Word—who chose to come to earth as a human baby who would crawl and walk in the same dirt, on the same fallen earth, that we all walk on?
Then, at The Last Supper, when the disciples argued about which one of them would be the greatest (Luke 22:24), didn’t Jesus tell them to be humble servants instead (vv.26–27) and model it for them by washing the dirt from their feet (John 13:3–16)?
And today, as we observe Good Friday and remember the crucifixion of Jesus, I’ve been wondering: did Jesus flex his sovereignty on the road to Calvary?
Jesus could have called down a legion of angels to help him, but he didn’t (Matt 26:53).
He kept silent as people mocked him, the ”King of the Jews,” placing a scarlet robe and a crown of thorns on him (27:27–31).
Yes, I believe that God was sovereign over the arrest, trial, and crucifixion of Jesus, and that all of this was part of God’s plan for our salvation, but what I’m asking is whether Jesus underscores God’s sovereignty or God’s presence with us.
Emptied on the Cross
We in the modern, developed world seem to be enamored with power and victory, and therefore, tend to emphasize the might and sovereignty of God. Yet, on the cross, Jesus did not achieve victory through a dazzling display of God’s power.
Instead, Jesus:
“who, though he was in the form of God, did not count equality with God a thing to be grasped, but emptied himself, by taking the form of a servant, being born in the likeness of men. And being found in human form, he humbled himself by becoming obedient to the point of death, even death on a cross.”
(Phil 2:6–8 ESV)
In the first century, crucifixion was a scandalous and shameful way to die.
The cross was not the symbol of faith that is is now. In the first-century Roman Empire, the cross was a horrendous death penalty for the likes of slaves, robbers, assassins, and rebels. The cross was so abhorrent that the Roman statesman, Cicero, once wrote, “Far be the very name of a cross, not only from the body, but even from the thought, the eyes, the ears of Roman citizens.”
“Cross” was a dirty word in Roman society. And to the Jews, it was a curse from God to be hanged on a tree (Deut 21:22-23).
Yet, Jesus, who was in the very form of God, did not seize or make use of his equality with God, but humbled himself to death.
On a cross. In the Roman Empire. As a Jewish man.
He did this for you. He did this for me.
We are all the ones who sin and deserve crucifixion, but Jesus took our place on that cross so that we wouldn’t have to.
Jesus is God who is not only present with us, but also identifies with us and even suffers for us.
So when people are faced with tragedy and the world makes no sense to them, what if we focused on God’s presence instead of God’s sovereignty?
God was present in the fiery furnace with Meshach, Shadrach, and Abednego (Dan 3:25).
God was present with Daniel in the den of hungry lions (Dan 6:22).
God is present with us though we walk in the valley of the shadow of death (Ps 23:4).
And yes, in each of these instances, God was, and is, sovereign. But to someone who is grieving, it may be more helpful for them to know that God was present, that God is present, and that God will continue to be present with them in the midst of their pain.
Jesus is God who weeps when his friends die (John 11:35) and teaches us to do the same with those who weep (Rom 12:15).
And, after Jesus returns, “the dwelling place of God is with man. He will dwell with them, and they will be his people, and God himself will be with them as their God. He will wipe away every tear from their eyes, and death shall be no more, neither shall there be mourning, nor crying, nor pain anymore” (Rev 21:4).
God is with us.
Immanuel.
