On Loss

By Pastor Wilson

I remember the pit-of-my-stomach pain. It was my second-year at Concordia Seminary in St. Louis and I had just received a phone call from the local computer repair store. I had taken my laptop there a few days earlier to see if they could fix my unresponsive computer. The man on the other end of the line said he could, but that my hard drive couldn’t be recovered. That was my hard drive with a year and a half of seminary course work on it, my hard drive with two years of professional magazine work on it, my hard drive with four years of undergraduate work on it, and my hard drive that I foolishly hadn’t backed up too. Needless to say, I had a pain in the pit of my stomach as I thought of all that I had lost.

To be honest, in the days after that I struggled with those feelings. I struggled because I had lost so much and yet I felt extremely guilty too. Why was I so emotional and hurt over losing eight years of work when others were mourning things much worse? The loss of their homes in fires, the loss of their jobs in unemployment, or even still worse- the loss of loved ones in death. My files didn’t measure up to any of that, so why was I still feeling so much pain from what I had lost? I shared all of this with my faculty mentor at the seminary and he took it all in with his expert listening skill. Then he shared something with me that really helped. He acknowledged that the loss of papers and essays, sermons and Bible studies may not be in the same category as other loss people experience, “but that doesn’t make it any less of a loss for you,” he said. “With loss comes grief and pain, and it is important to acknowledge that and allow yourself to grieve freely- even if what you have lost is different from what someone else has.” That was an extremely helpful conversation for me. It allowed me to feel pain and sadness over what I had lost, without feeling guilty by comparing myself to others or their situations. Only after allowing myself to grieve over my lost files, was I able to feel like I could move on and restart producing new work and saving it on a new hard drive and with an external backup close at hand.

I was thinking about this the past few days, because I think that many of us may be in a similar situation during these days of the COVID-19 pandemic. I know that I have been experiencing many of the same feelings I did eight years ago.

If you asked me my favorite things to do in life- I’d likely tell you meeting for worship at church, traveling with my family, and watching college football would all likely top my list. And yet this year, COVID-19 has taken each of those things away at one time or another.

For 12 weeks this spring we were unable to safely meet in-person for worship at Trinity. And though we met online during that time, I deeply missed being together to hear God’s Word and receive His gifts for us. Even now that we have returned to worship, I deeply miss the closeness that we once could have at church- the ability to greet you, talk with you, and hopefully encourage you in the faith is still not what it once was… and it hurts.

Traveling with my family is also something that means a lot to me. Exploring new places, seeing new sights, discovering new adventures with Brianna, Maisie, and now Gabriel is one of my greatest joys. I countdown to those opportunities on my calendar and start planning and looking forward to the next opportunities as soon as our travels end. Because of the pandemic, all of our personal travel plans were postponed or outright cancelled this year. While we’ve tried to adjust and see family when and where it has been safe, the loss of those long-waited-for plans has hurt.

If you know my interests at all you know that I love sports. I can probably carry on a legit conversation with you about your favorite sports team- no matter what sport or team you root for. If you don’t believe me feel free to give it a try next time you have a chance. Though I love all sports, no sport has captivated my love or devotion more than college football. I know that many of you likely feel the same. Before the 1996 college football season I stumbled upon a college football yearbook at the grocery store. I bought it and took it home and proceeded to record every college football game result in that book for the rest of the year. I have done the same thing for the last 23 years. No one needs to have a hand-written record of every college football result for 24 years stored in their basement. You could access any of that on Google in seconds- and yet keeping those records has meant more to me than I can say. With the news this past week that more than half of college football games won’t happen this year, and possibly more cancellations to come, I think 2020 will be the first year since 1995 that I won’t keep my annual ritual. That hurts.

I’ve felt these feelings of loss throughout the past few months we have lived through- and I know that you have likely had your own feelings of the things that you have gone without too. Maybe it’s being able to see and hug your grandkids. Maybe it’s missing out on attending youth sports events or rooting on your child there. Maybe it’s missing out on your usual coffee visit with a dear friend, or attending a reunion that you were long looking forward to. Likely you missed when we couldn’t be together at church too. All of that hurts, doesn’t it? And it is okay to acknowledge that.

For a long time this year I’ve felt the same guilty feelings I did when my hard drive crashed. What right do I have to feel pain or loss when others have it so much more severe? How can I feel loss when the families of 160,000 Americans and counting are grieving the death of a loved one? How can I feel loss when many people’s entire lives have been turned upside-down? Perhaps you have felt that way too. But even though all that is far greater than what many of us have experienced, it doesn’t make it any less of a loss for you. With loss comes sadness and pain- and it is needed and healthy to acknowledge those feelings yourself during this time too.

And so, my encouragement to you is to allow yourself to grieve the losses you have experienced because of COVID-19, whatever they may be. You know them better than anyone else and you know the hurt they have caused you. I also encourage you to pray for each other- and especially those who may have been affected through this pandemic in even greater ways than you- that they would have peace in their grief as well. And finally, I’d encourage you to remember that which doesn’t change and which we will never lose- the steadfast love of Jesus Christ. Lamentations is a book of, well, laments… and yet the words of Lamentations 3:22-23 offer us great peace in the midst of a world of great sadness. I pray that they would do just that for you in these days of mourning and for all our mornings to come.

“The steadfast love of the LORD never ceases; his mercies never come to an end; they are new every morning; great is your faithfulness.”