“Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted” (Matthew 5:4).
“Rejoice in the Lord always. I will say it again: Rejoice!” (Philippians 4:4).
On March 26, 2022, it was my daughter’s first birthday. Like most first birthdays, we had a party for a kid who only wanted to eat the icing off the cake, loved the wrapping paper more than the presents, and was the first to go to bed. Along with others, my parents were at our house for the birthday party. They stayed for the whole day and into the night. After the party, Dad turned to my son and said, “Hey, curly top, let’s go get some new baseball stuff for your first season.” So, Dad, the little man and I went to the store, and Dad proceeded to buy every piece of my son’s baseball gear. Dad loved sporting goods stores and buying stuff for his grandkids, so in his opinion, we needed it all. We even left the store with eye black because six-year-olds obviously need eye black when they start their baseball career. After shopping, we got back to the house and said our goodbyes. Dad said what he usually told me privately every time we were together: “Love God and love people. Take care of that family of yours.”
Three days later, I woke up the usual way—to my son jumping on me. As I reached down for my phone like I would any other day, I immediately realized something wasn’t right. I had six missed FaceTime calls and 10 texts from my older brother and Mom. Within minutes, I had another FaceTime call from Mom: “I don’t know how I’m supposed to tell you this, but your dad had a heart attack. He died in the night.” Shock doesn’t feel like a strong enough word to describe my feelings at that moment. Horror. Disbelief. “No, no, no!” I screamed in my head. I asked a few questions, and as Mom answered, I mouthed the words to my wife, indicating Dad had died.
I drove my son to school, then immediately began the hour-long drive to get to Mom and my brothers. I walked into my older brother’s home and hugged everyone. Few words were spoken; our emotions were ragged and raw with disbelief. One of my brothers lived in the same city as my parents but had been up all night. So, I offered to take Mom home. As we pulled into the driveway, I realized that for the first time, Mom would walk into the home she had shared, knowing that the love of her life would never be there again. Our world had changed forever.
Blessed are those who mourn? Rejoice in the Lord always? I’m sorry, but those are not the words that came to mind! To be honest, these Scripture verses confused me. I mean, seriously? Blessed am I when I’m in intense pain? I wasn’t there, and in the months that followed, those were the hardest things to believe or do.
About a year after losing my dad, in frustration, I told my counsellor, “I don’t get what I’m supposed to be doing to get over or through this or whatever. I feel like I’m so far behind; I can never be okay again.” The counsellor asked me a question: “What do you think the goal is?” That caught me off guard; I didn’t have an answer. It took several more months of prayer, counsel, tears and conversations with my wife as we navigated our grief to find one.
You see, I learned that my goal was not to find out why but to ask God what. What do I need? What should I see? Asking “why” was not going to bring back Dad or help me move forward. I could spend my whole life trying to figure out why it happened and why it happened that way. The goal was not to “get over” Dad’s passing, to forget him, or to act like everything was fine until I broke down, or to be happy on Father’s Day again. The goal was to find peace in God. God’s peace, not my peace. They’re different.
Paul writes about the peace of God in Philippians 4 while in crisis. He is in prison; he is in turmoil. Yet, through the inspiration of the Holy Spirit, Paul commands himself and others to “Rejoice in the Lord always.” It seems unthinkable. How can we rejoice when our faith has been shaken, and we can’t understand why? Well, we can’t get there on our own.
Grief creates fear and feelings of hopelessness, lack of purpose, mind-numbing sadness and pain. Whether we are mourning a loss or facing some other kind of tumultuous life experience, we need the peace that passes our human understanding, and the Bible clearly gives us direction to it! Philippians 4:7 says, “And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.” When we set aside our “why” questions, we leave room for God to bring us His unique peace. We learn to rejoice in the Lord through every circumstance—not because the storms are gone but because God’s peace brings the ultimate comfort. We can “Rejoice in the Lord always” when we look to Him every single day, acknowledging that He has a plan for our lives and thanking Him for His sacrifice that allows us to walk in that plan.
The wave of emotions that comes with celebrating the life of someone you have lost is unexplainable. Becoming blessed as someone in mourning can only happen one way—by moving beyond “why” to embrace the unusual peace of God, the One who brings true comfort.
Benton Gibbons is the lead pastor of LifeHouse in St. Thomas, Ont.
This article appeared in the April/May/June 2025 issue of testimony/Enrich, a quarterly publication of The Pentecostal Assemblies of Canada. © 2025 The Pentecostal Assemblies of Canada. Heart image © istockphoto.com. Photo of the Bible and coffee cup by the lake is by Aaron Burden on Unsplash.