An abortive attempt at a sermon, a walk to the bank, the ordering of some 200 Christmas crackers, and various degrees of mulling later, I think I have some thoughts...

An honest grief - a grief that does not pretend everything is alright when it clearly isn't, that acknowledges pain, questions, regrets, doubts, whatever it may be, for that person at that time.

A hopeful grief - a grief that sees death not as the end but as part of something else, that, despite the pain etc., looks beyond itself not in a pious, pie-in-the-sky way, but trusts in God's promises

A joyful grief - joy is not the same as happiness, but it is a quality that allows for smiles and laughter, celebration and remembering, whilst avoiding false cheerfulness

A mysterious grief - a grief that recognises that death is a mystery, that we cannot fully know what follows, that we can never really understand what happens, but we know (intuitively?) that something is going on.  Linked with hope, we know that ultimately all will be well

A timely grief - a grief that is expressed at the right time, not being repressed or suppressed but also not being measured according to some psychological scheme with phases and timings.  It does its 'work' and does not ensnare or damage.

A shared grief - if we take seriously the idea of community, of our interconnectedness in the 'Body of Christ' then we must grieve together on some sense.

A healing grief - that somehow in the honesty, hope, joy, mystery, timeliness and sharing we find wholeness and liberation so that we can continue to live life in all its fullness.

Still not a sermon, and needs some careful work to make it useable, but getting there, I think.

I stumbled across this phrase this morning as I was reading NT Wright's Paul for Everyone commentary on 1 Thessalonians 4, which is one of the passages I've chosen for Sunday's Remembrance service.  It is a great phrase because it gives Christians permission to grieve, a need that sometimes seems to be suppressed, repressed or even denied.  It is a great phrase because it says there is a Christian way of grieving that is different from other expressions, not that these lack authenticity, but that they miss something that our faith offers.  It is a great phrase because it forces us to think what is appropriate, and what is maybe not, for us as Christians.

Wright's reading of the text will inevitably offend some Biblical literalists, since he refutes the idea of a rapture, points out the meshing of three ancient metaphors, and centres on the aim of the text, which is to comfort, encourage and reassure those who are alive.  Death, resurrection, heaven and/or a new creation are mysteries we cannot begin to grasp, and what the symbols and metaphors offer us is only ever partial, but we can be sure that those who have died remain in God's care.

If I am able to communicate some of the liberation and hope that this passage offers those who grieve, then I will be satisfied.