Recent events, globally and among my friends, have reminded me of the importance of good grieving. There is a grief that is real and deep, but that is not without hope. (1Thessalonians 4:13). Good grief requires dual perspectives: a clear, compassionate eye on present struggles, pains, and losses. But — simultaneously — hearing and listening to the joyful sounds of sure, promised hope.

Viewed from a distance, immense suffering weighs down and overwhelms our spirits. We may avert our eyes or turn off the news. But, when nearby friends or family are engaged in battles with disease, pain, and suffering, there is no escaping hard reality. This week I was a witness of two funerals.

But I recall Jesus’ clear-sighted compassion. He stayed personally present with pain and suffering. Jesus wept at his friend’s tomb. He was realistic, but without despair. As a good sister said this week: Jesus validates all that is hard, but offers the hope of a better world. And Jesus does this without any naiveté, or callously averting his eyes. He enters this present world’s pain and suffering. “The whole creation has been groaning together." (Romans 8:22)

Seeking to enter good grief, while groaning for the glory of a new creation, I am drawn to two Hebrew prophets who envision God’s future City. They paint a vivid contrast to the streets of Gaza and Ukraine, and to the fragile mortality of our all-too-human lives.

“No more babies dying in the cradle, or old people who don’t enjoy a full lifetime; one-hundredth birthdays will be considered normal — anything less will seem like a cheat.” (Isaiah 65:20, The Message)

“Old men and old women will come back to Jerusalem, sit on benches on the streets and spin tales, move around safely with their canes — a good city to grow old in. And boys and girls will fill the public parks, laughing and playing — a good city to grow up in.” (Zechariah 8:4-5, The Message)

These dual perspectives: seeing the hard and present sufferings, while hearing the overtures of hope, are expressed in the American folk hymn How Can I Keep from Singing? We groan — for glory.