Grieving Those You Loved, and Caring for Those Who Grieve

I’ve been thinking a great deal about grief lately — partly because age brings more loss, and partly because my unwillingness to grieve well has caused pain in my relationships and leadership.

On Friday afternoon, I received news that one of my early mentors and pastors, Scott Cagle, had passed away. It is a tragic and heartbreaking loss for so many — especially his family.

Scott was a kind, charismatic, and inspiring man. Being around Scott made you want to be like Scott. He was funny, loving, and passionate about proclaiming the Gospel. He taught me more about prayer than anyone else ever has. He was open to innovation and risk-taking.

One of Scott’s greatest legacies — and greatest gifts — lives on in my daughter. I went to work with Scott at Northstar Church when my daughter was just a baby. One afternoon, I was sitting in his office when his daughter called. He stepped away to talk with Erin. When he came back, he had a smile on his face — she had called to tell him about a boy and get his advice.

That day I said to Scott, “I need you to teach me how to be the kind of dad who gets a call from his college-aged daughter to talk about boys.”

And he did.

Today, my almost 17-year-old daughter and I talk about almost everything — including boys.

Grieving Those You Loved

Grief is like the ocean. It is unpredictable, it comes and goes like the tide, and it hits you with all types of waves. People grieve differently, yet there are a few universal truths worth remembering.

Grief is not a project to complete; it is a process to walk through.
The goal isn’t to “get over” the loss of a loved one, but to learn to carry their absence differently over time. Healing isn’t measured by productivity but by presence. When you show up to face your deepest fears, that act of courageous defiance paves the pathway to future hope.

Grief is not linear.
One day you may feel like you’re finally back on your feet, and the next, grief knocks you down again. Ups and downs are part of the journey. Some seasons are harder than others.

Grief is not logical.
Moments of peace and moments of sorrow coexist. Hope and sadness can occupy the same space in our hearts. This tension can make it difficult to express what you’re feeling to others — and that’s okay.

Caring for Those Who Grieve

Pastoring is the sacred work of caring for souls. In caring for those who grieve, I’ve learned a few lessons that may help others, too.

Resist the temptation to fix the “problem.”
Our natural, well-intentioned impulse is to try to make people feel better. Instead, help people feel. Give them space and permission to hurt, to be angry, confused, and — most of all — sad. Help them courageously allow grief and hope to exist in the same space.

You cannot carry their pain, but you can be present in it.
You don’t have to know the answer to “why?” It’s perfectly acceptable — even holy — to say, “I don’t know, but I’m here with you.”

Above all, remember that Jesus meets us in our grief — and in our care for those who grieve.
Spiritual strength is always borrowed strength. You don’t have to be strong in the conventional sense, because spiritual strength is not summoned from within but supplied from above. God meets us where we are, especially in the valley of the shadow of death.

Whether you’re grieving or walking with someone who is, may you find comfort in knowing that Jesus grieves with us — and promises resurrection on the other side of loss.