Letter to a mourning, afflicted widow
by Archibald Alexander
My Dear Friend,
What a change in your circumstances and worldly prospects within a short
time! A few months ago, you appeared to be carried along in the full tide of
prosperity. Everything seemed to smile around you, and probably you had no
anticipation of the sad reverse which has occurred. Blessed with health and
abundance, happy in the possession and regard of an excellent husband, and
in seeing around you lovely and promising children, who were the joy of your
heart! But now, alas! you are a bereaved, desolate widow; you have
experienced the greatest loss which you could experience of any earthly
possession; and, to increase the calamity (for afflictions are apt to come
in clusters), another stroke has fallen on you, so that you have sorrow upon
sorrow. Under such afflicting circumstances, what can I say to alleviate
your distress? I am afraid that I can do no more than to express my tender
sympathy. Though far off from the scene of your suffering, I feel for you—I
could weep with you. Meddlesome efforts to check the swelling torrent of
grief on such occasions are injudicious, and rather tend to aggravate than
relieve our misery. Nature must have its course. Tears, if deep-rooted grief
does not prevent, furnish almost the only mitigation of which the mourner is
susceptible: and what nature demands, God does not forbid. There is no sin
in the feelings of lively sorrow which such bereavements produce.
The blessed Savior did indeed forbid the daughters of
Jerusalem to weep for Him, because He had undertaken to bear the curse of
God for us without alleviation—but He tells them to weep for themselves and
their children. He did also exhort the bereaved widow of Nain not to weep;
but the reason of this was that He intended immediately to restore to life
her only son, then lying dead before her. When our blessed Lord came to
Bethany and found the two sisters, Martha and Mary, in a state of deep
distress on account of the recent death of their only brother (the support
and protector of the family), does He forbid their tears? No! the
compassionate Jesus weeps with them! How interesting, how amiable, does the
kind of condescension and tender sympathy of the Son of God towards this
afflicted family appear!
They had reason to be surprised at His conduct
beforehand, because, when they sent for Him, He delayed coming until their
brother was dead. His motive for this delay they understood not; but, when
He came, they both remarked with sorrowful regret, "Lord, if you had been
here, my brother had not died." (John 11:21,32) And when He answered, "Your
brother shall rise again," (John 11:23) they still had no other apprehension
of His meaning, than that he should arise at the last day. But His
benevolent purpose was to restore to them their beloved brother, by raising
him from the grave where he had lain four days. But so deeply was His
compassionate heart affected by the sight of the tears and distress of His
beloved friends, that He not only wept with them—but groaned in His spirit
and was troubled, and said, "Where have you laid him?" (John 11:34) And
before He would enter the house to rest Himself after his journey, He must
visit the grave of His friend, that He might at once relieve the aching
hearts of these pious women.
But no such relief can now be expected. Jesus, the
almighty Savior, who is "the resurrection and the life", (John 11:25) no
longer sojourns among men. But it should still be a consolation to mourners
that, though exalted at the right hand of God, the compassionate Redeemer is
accessible, and that His tender sympathy is still retained; "For we do not
have a high priest who is unable to sympathize with our weaknesses." (Heb
4:15) He knows as well what His disciples suffer, as if He were upon earth,
and is as able to aid them and to comfort them in all their sorrows. I
cannot, then, give you better advice, than to "look to Jesus, the founder
and perfecter of our faith, who for the joy that was set before him endured
the cross, despising the shame, and is seated at the right hand of the
throne of God." (Heb 12:2)
I know of no consideration which is more effectual to
reconcile us to bear with submission our heaviest afflictions, than the
contemplation of our divine Redeemer wading through floods of sorrow for our
sake; yes, overwhelmed with a weight of distress which pressed Him to
the ground in a bloody agony, and caused Him to cry out with an exceeding
bitter cry, "My soul is exceeding sorrowful, even unto death"; (Matt 26:38)
and on the cross to exclaim, "My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?"
(Matt 27:46; Mark 15:34) "Did Jesus thus suffer, and shall I repine?" He was
the Son of God: He was holy, harmless, undefiled, and separate from sinners;
and yet for our sake, He bore this infinite pressure of grief. This suggests
another consideration, which I have always found, when I could feel its
force, to have a powerful effect in repressing a murmuring and repining
disposition. It is, that we suffer less than we deserve. God afflicts
us, it may be, severely; but His strokes are lighter than our sins. If it
were not for His unmerited mercy, we should now be in hell.
Add to this, that God does not willingly afflict;
He takes no pleasure in the sufferings of any of His creatures, much less in
the sorrows of His children; but He chastises them for their real good. Why
some are so much more afflicted than others, we do not know; but we do know,
"that all things work together for good to those who love God"; (Rom 8:28)
and that, although "no chastening for the present is joyous—but grievous,
yet afterwards it yields the peaceable fruit of righteousness unto those who
are exercised thereby". (Heb 12:11) The afflicted mourner finds it hard to
believe this promise, and cannot see how it is possible that such a calamity
should be of any benefit. But God's Word is to be credited in opposition to
our own feelings, and to all appearances. He has ways of working which we do
not now understand—but shall know hereafter. He can make our bitterest
anguish a beneficial medicine for our diseased souls. Our whole course
through this world is intended to be a state of trial and discipline; and
therefore it is ordained that "through much tribulation, we must enter the
kingdom". (Acts 14:22) And all who are seen standing on Mount Zion, clothed
in white robes and palms in their hands, had "come out of great
tribulation". (Rev 7:14)
Another consideration of great weight in reconciling us
to our lot is the shortness of time, and our nearness to the joys of
heaven. When, by faith, we can form some just estimate of this matter, the
keenest sufferings and most distressing bereavements sink into
insignificance. Who in our times suffer as did the primitive Christians? and
yet Paul calls their afflictions light and momentary. And well may we be
satisfied to bear them, "for they work out for us a far more exceeding and
eternal weight of glory". (2 Cor 4:17) And again he says, "The sufferings of
this present time are not worthy to be compared with the glory which shall
be revealed in us." (Rom 8:18) And it is reasonable to think that "the rest
that remains for the people of God", (Heb 4:9) will be enjoyed with a higher
zest by those who pass into heaven from a state of affliction, than by
others.
I know, indeed, that by this visitation of God your
worldly prospects are sadly clouded; and you may feel yourself to be in a
deplorably helpless condition. Unaccustomed to manage or preside, you are
thrown into distressing perplexity whenever you reflect upon your condition.
But I entreat you not to indulge these gloomy forebodings. God has a way by
which you and your little family can be supported. He will guide, protect,
and bless you, if you confide in Him. You are, indeed, in an unfriendly
world, and will frequently meet with selfish and unfeeling men, who will not
scruple to take advantage of your ignorance of the affairs of the world; but
a "judge of the fatherless and widow is God", and He invites you in a
peculiar manner to make Him your refuge. "Leave", says He, "your fatherless
children, and I will preserve them alive, and let your widows trust in me."
(Jer 49:11) Take shelter under the covert of His wings, and commit yourself
entirely into His hand, and He will never leave nor forsake you.
The more you get into the habit of seeing to your own
affairs, and transacting your own business, the better it will be for you.
Nothing will preserve you more effectually from melancholy and dejection
than constant occupation. Females are often found to possess a talent for
business which neither they nor others ever suspected. Accept the kind aid
of friends—but do not depend upon it. If necessary, engage in some business
that will help to support you. Teaching children is a peculiarly suitable
employment for a widow who has children of her own to be educated. Widows
who reside in towns and cities are often enabled to obtain the means of
subsistence by taking genteel boarders. Know exactly what your income is,
and be sure to keep within it in your expenses. Debt is ruinous to all, and
especially to widows. Take counsel from judicious friends—but seek, in all
cases, direction from the Lord.
Be strict in the government of your children. Make them
obey you implicitly while they are young, and do not spoil them by
indulgence. But I do not recommend severity. Of this, however, you will be
in no danger. Inculcate religion upon their minds, and pray much for them.
Teach them, when old enough, the loss they have sustained, and impress upon
their minds the necessity of sobriety and frugality. "Bring them up in the
nurture and admonition of the Lord." (Eph 6:4)