By Nicole Langman, Guest Blogger

It’s in our shared understanding of loss that we find comfort. And it’s in our shared experience of goodbyes, endings, and disappointments those around us don’t seem to fully understand that we can find some respite from the loneliness of loss.

We get, in a whole new way, the quiet knowing of those who have been through loss that doesn’t quite fit into the stereotypical grief-worthy boxes.

During my early days in the valley, God reminded me that the presence of heartbreaking reality does not mean He is off His throne. He reminded me that both can be true—that God is good and in control while, at the same time, things are painful and hard. And definitely grief-worthy.

We can trust God and believe He’s good and also be brokenhearted.

We can still wish for things to be different. Even when we trust God to work things out for good (Romans 8:28), we can admit this is so much more than we think we can carry. Even when we believe He will do more than we imagine or hope for (Ephesians 3:20), it’s okay to sit in the confusion and sorrow of a story that’s hard to hold.

It’s good and right to grieve. We are created with the capacity to grieve. Jesus did. God does. And my Bible reminds me that countless ancestors did. You are allowed to grieve.

Though your loss might not be related to the death of a loved one, you can grieve.

Though many won’t understand the depth of your loss or the weight of your grief, it’s important to do the heavy lifting of sorrow. We can’t heal what we don’t acknowledge, and your courageous work here will be rewarded with a healing journey that will encourage others in their journeys through loss.

And today, as we move forward in this season of sorrow in your life, I want you to know I’m standing with you in trusting the One who weeps with us. The One who understands better than anyone the weight of sorrow and the pain of loss. It might not make sense to us right now. And on this side of heaven, we may never fully understand, but we can trust His heart. And He is ready and willing to carry us through this storm.

Jesus wept, and here’s why it matters

If you have your Bible, open it to John 11:35 and highlight that powerful little verse.

It still grabs my heart when I think about it. The shortest verse in our English Bible, and perhaps one of the deepest and most profound verses in the Word.

“Jesus wept.”

This is more than tears. It’s more than a quiet display of superficial emotion.

Jesus wept. This is divine tenderness—the tender heart of a loving God on full display.

Whatever you have faced or are facing today, let yourself follow the lead of Jesus. Weep. And know that He is weeping with you.

Can you picture this moment? The one where Jesus is weeping. All eyes are on this man who is pouring out emotion at the tomb of Lazarus. Jesus, feeling His friends’ pain, saw their sorrow and wept.

Jesus weeps with the ones He loves. He weeps with us.

I don’t know exactly what it is that you’re grieving today. What diagnosis, disaster, or disappointment you’re carrying. But I know that Jesus is weeping with you.

Not just a tear or two. But weeping. For you and with you. He is so sorry too. Not because any of this is His fault, but because His child is hurting and that grieves Him deeply.

He weeps because He loves.

Your story (and mine too)

We have a shared history of knowing sorrow. Our stories look different—they’re unique in their details—but similar in their heartache. And today, if no one in your life has said it, I want you to know that I am so sorry.

I’m sorry not only for what has happened but for all it means in your life. The changes and uncertainty. The new normal and all it requires of you. The weight of it. I’m just so sorry.

And more than that, much more than that, your sorrow has gripped the heart of our perfect Father. He is grieving with you.

I’m asking you to dig deep right now. Imagine, if you can, how it would feel to look up right now and see the tear-filled eyes of Jesus. His perfect eyes, full of love, gazing back at you.

Can you picture this moment?

He knows your story. He knows what you’ve been through and the pain of loss you’re carrying. Before you ever say a word, Jesus knows.

And if you’re feeling brave, picture all that has happened. The loss you’re living with. The words said that can’t be unsaid. The things done. The harmful. The terrifying. The unthinkable. The desperately unwanted.

All of it.

Now in your heart, collect it all up and picture yourself putting it into a box. Go ahead and fold it inside. If you need a bigger box, I understand. I did too.

And now, because you can, hold up that box and all that’s inside it to Jesus.

It’s one of your bravest moves. It’s the most important thing you can do today. Even though it’s hard. Even though it feels unfamiliar. Hold it up to Him.

What do you see in His eyes as He takes that box and opens it?

What do you notice about Him?

Because I know His heart, and I know His unrelenting, compassionate love is greater than we can imagine, in His eyes is sorrow.

Sorrow mingled with love.

Just as He wept with His friends in John 11, so too does He weep with us. The Bible tells us in Isaiah 53:3 that Jesus is “a man of sorrows and acquainted with grief.”

Jesus is weeping with you. He hurts with you. God’s grand design never included pain or loss. And because He loves us, while His heart breaks with yours, He is also working out His good plan. And one day soon you and I will sit shoulder to shoulder at the throne, our hands lifted high, knowing that every tear we’ve ever cried was seen, every sorrow was held, and the very things that tried to break us have been redeemed into a story beyond anything we could have imagined.

Or perhaps it won’t even matter at that point. Perhaps by then we will be so overcome with the presence of Jesus that all this will hold no interest to us. Can you imagine that day? The day we see Jesus face-to-face? It’s coming, my friend. Let yourself dream of it.

And in the meantime, keep your eyes on Him and let Him lead you through this season. It won’t always hurt like this. I know it’s hard to imagine, but the pain you’re carrying will not always feel this heavy. You have a comforter and a friend. One who weeps with you and who will never leave your side. You can count on Him.

Taken from This Isn’t the Story I Wanted by Nicole Langman © 2026. Used with permission from Kregel Publications, a division of Kregel Inc.