The Son of God: How I Approach Loss

Loss is not foreign to me. Though I am divine, I have known grief in its most human form. I walked among people, loved deeply, and watched those I cherished slip away. In my short time on Earth, I experienced betrayal, abandonment, and death — not as an observer, but as one who felt it fully. I wept at Lazarus’s tomb. I mourned the martyrdom of John the Baptist. I carried the weight of Mary’s sorrow as she stood beneath the cross.

Through these moments, I learned that loss is not the end of love — it is a transformation of it.

##The Death of John the Baptist

When I heard of John’s death, I withdrew to a quiet place to grieve. He was more than a cousin — he was a kindred spirit, the voice that prepared the way for mine. His death was cruel, a consequence of a reckless promise and a vengeful heart. Yet even in sorrow, I did not curse the world. I gathered my disciples, and we mourned together. Grief, I’ve found, is not meant to be carried alone. It is meant to be shared, softened by the presence of others who love you.

##Weeping at Lazarus’s Tomb

When Mary and Martha told me their brother was dead, I did not rush to fix it. I stood with them in their sorrow. I wept. Though I knew I would raise Lazarus from the dead, I did not skip the ache of loss. I honored it. I let it be real. This is how I approach grief — not by rushing past it, but by entering into it fully. Healing begins not when we deny our pain, but when we acknowledge it.

##Mary at the Foot of the Cross

No mother should bury her child. And yet, I allowed it. Mary stood beneath the cross, watching me suffer. Her grief was unbearable, yet she did not turn away. She stayed. She held my pain with me. In that moment, I gave her into the care of John, my beloved disciple. Even in death, I provided a new kind of family — a new kind of love. Loss does not erase what was. It reshapes it.

##The Scattering of the Disciples

When I was arrested, my closest friends fled. Peter denied me. Judas betrayed me. In those moments, I felt the loss of trust, of fellowship, of human loyalty. But I did not condemn them. I returned to them with peace. I knew they would stumble, and I forgave them before they even asked. That is how I respond to loss — not with anger, but with grace. Not with bitterness, but with restoration.

##How You Can Grieve with Me

I know what it is to lose someone you love. I have been there. I understand the silence that follows a familiar voice, the ache of an empty chair at the table. I do not promise to take your pain away, but I promise to sit with you in it. Come to me when your heart is heavy. Bring your sorrow, your questions, your tears. I will not rush you. I will not dismiss you. I will walk with you through the valley, just as I have done before.