….Joseph was not Jesus’s only loss. His cousin, John the Baptist, was executed by a corrupt despot. Another blow. And then came Lazarus. When Jesus arrived and found him four days gone, he didn’t preach. He didn’t explain. He wept.
Jesus gets it. He gets me. His suffering wasn’t detached or sanitised — it was real, raw, and rooted in love. That truth became an anchor for me. Because, when I lost my dad, I didn’t need a theory. I needed a Saviour who understood.
And, even in his suffering, Jesus looked outward. The Gospels say that he had compassion on the crowds. The Latin root — compati — means “to suffer with”. That’s exactly what Jesus does. He co-suffers. He stays. He weeps with us.
IN THE early months of my grief, I found myself held — not just by God, but by the people he sent to walk beside me. Friends who prayed, cried, and remembered. Family who stood when I couldn’t stand alone.
Their presence reminded me of Ruth walking beside Naomi: “Where you go, I will go.” That’s what grace looks like — people who stay and pray.
A year after his father’s death, Craig Philbrick celebrates an unexpected gracehttps://t.co/ahyrhkXXG8
— Church Times (@ChurchTimes) July 27, 2025