ALPHA MAAMA (A.M.)

 FALAITE ‘EPELELI 10, 2026

2 SAMIUELA 19-21; ‘AISEA 25:6-9

There will be a day when God will dry the last tear from our eyes, and we will never weep again.

‘E ‘i ai ha ‘aho ‘e holoholo’i ai ‘e he ‘Otua ‘a e lo’imata faka’osi mei hotau ngaahi fofonga, pea ‘e ‘ikai te tau toe tangi.

When I got the call, the life almost went out of me, and it wasn't even concerning my own daughter. The girl's mom called and told me that, after calling and searching all over the house for her daughter, she had found her in their basement. She was dead, with her suicide note lying next to her. The depth of grief in this mother's voice, interrupted by haunting wails, would suck the life out of any caring human being. I knew I had to go to her, but I dreaded entering that house. I felt emotionally and spiritually empty. All of the things I rehearsed in my heart to say when I arrived seemed woefully inadequate or inappropriate.

The theological things I knew that spoke to this horrible moment seemed distant, sterile, impersonal. When I entered the house, I could physically feel the grief. It was as though a horrible, heart-crushing cloud had filled that home. It made it hard to think and hard to breathe. The family cried and I cried. I held on to them in the silent awe of loss. I left them that night emotionally spent, but I knew they would never leave, never escape, never forget. Yesterday she was in the kitchen doing homework; today she was in the basement lifeless, a horror too powerful to grasp.

Absalom had been David's little boy. David had held him close to his heart as an infant. He had played with him as a toddler. He had watched his personality and gifts develop. He had experienced Absalom's searching mind and developing leadership gifts. David had enjoyed many loving, nurturing, wisdom-giving, discipling, fun-filled, and proud dad moments with his son. Nothing could have prepared David for what Absalom would do and the horrible way Absalom would die. David was overcome, controlled, and imprisoned by his grief (2 Sam. 18). It is right to feel and to cry out in grief, but it is dangerous to be ruled by it. So God raised up Joab to confront David, calling the king to return to the work God had anointed him to do.

Joab's words in 2 Samuel 19 may seem harsh and unloving, but grief is both appropriate and potentially destructive. It must never control our hearts, become our identity, or shape our future hope. Now, I am talking not about denying powerful and appropriate emotions, but about remembering who we are and what we have been given as children of God. 

In horrible moments of tragedy and loss, we have four things from the Lord. We have his presence. He is with us and for us in our grief. We have his power. He blesses us with the same power by which Jesus was raised from the dead. We have his promises. These represent the present and future help that he has guaranteed each of his children. We have his commands. Scripture tells us how to live, no matter what we are facing. God meets us in the worst, most unthinkable moments with the grace of his presence, power, promises, and commands, and through them he gives us just what we need in our deepest times of need. What love!