Grief as Waves: A Pastoral Framework #

When walking with grieving people, pastors, chaplains, and Christian caregivers often encounter the limits of words. Theological truths remain vital, yet there are moments when doctrine alone does not soothe the soul. At such times, imagery, story, and metaphor can reach places that plain reasoning cannot.

In recent years, one of the most resonant illustrations of grief did not come from a pulpit or a seminary textbook but from an anonymous writer in an online forum. Their description of grief as “waves” has circulated widely across social media and grief support networks. Its appeal is simple: it gives people permission to feel overwhelmed while also providing hope that the intensity will not always remain the same. That story will be shared about middle way through this post.

Why Pastors Need Metaphors of Grief #

Language that Connects #

Grief often defies linear explanation. Metaphors offer language that speaks to both the heart and mind. In other words, grief does not follow a neat, straight line. It is not just sad, then better, then over. Sometimes you feel okay, then suddenly sad again, or even angry. These emotions can shift unexpectedly, showing up without warning or logic.

Metaphors help us make sense of grief by connecting it to familiar things. People might describe it as:

• carrying a heavy backpack that never comes off,
• walking through a dark forest where you cannot see the path, or
• being caught in a storm with no umbrella.

These comparisons make it easier to explain what we are feeling, even when those emotions seem overwhelming or hard to describe.

Pastoral Empathy
#

Ministers who use imagery of grief show they are not offering quick fixes but are willing to stand with mourners in their confusion. Think of a pastor who does not rush to say, “Cheer up, they’re in a better place,” but instead says, “This hurts, and I am here with you.” That small choice tells the grieving person that their pain is real and respected. For someone with little education or church background, simple images such as “walking through fire” or “carrying a stone in your pocket” can help them feel truly understood.

This echoes the wisdom found in the Book of Job. When Job lost his children, his wealth, and his health, his three friends came to sit with him: “They sat with him on the ground seven days and seven nights, and no one spoke a word to him, for they saw that his suffering was very great” (Job 2:13, ESV). Their silent presence, before their speeches, was their most faithful ministry. It reminds pastors that sometimes the holiest act is simply to sit with someone in the ashes, without rushing to explain or fix their pain.

Spiritual Resonance #

Scripture itself often employs natural metaphors: storms, floods, valleys, deserts to describe life’s deepest struggles (Psalm 42:7; Isaiah 43:2). Borrowing such imagery aligns pastoral care with biblical precedent. A child can picture what it feels like to be in a “valley of shadows” (Psalm 23:4) or to be “passing through deep waters” (Isaiah 43:2). These are not abstract ideas but pictures that even the simplest hearer can carry in their mind.

The Minister’s Task in Grief Care #

Presence Before Prescription

Before offering counsel, the pastor provides a listening ear and a steady presence, acknowledging the raw reality of loss. Sometimes “just being there” speaks louder than a thousand verses quoted too soon.

Guidance Without Closure

Christian hope is not in erasing grief but in placing it within the larger story of God’s redemption (1 Thessalonians 4:13). A minister does not say, “You should be over this by now,” but instead, “Christ holds you in the middle of this, and His story is not finished yet.”

Encouragement of Endurance

Pastoral care does not promise the absence of waves but strengthens the mourner’s capacity to endure them with faith, community, and the presence of Christ. Ministers remind people: “Yes, the pain may return, but you are not alone in the storm.”

Context for Introducing GSnow’s “Wave Theory” #

In this article, the metaphor from that online reflection will be brought forward not as a replacement for biblical comfort but as a complementary lens. When framed carefully, it can become a tool for pastors to explain the unpredictable nature of grief in a way that is emotionally validating, while also connecting people to the timeless promises of God.

Grief Beyond Textbooks #

Pastoral care often unfolds in the spaces where words seem to fail. Ministers and chaplains stand at hospital bedsides, gravesides, and family living rooms where sorrow hangs heavy. In those moments, what is needed is not a lecture but language that makes sense of pain. Sometimes that language comes not from seminaries or pulpits but from unexpected places.

In 2011, a Reddit user known as GSnow wrote a reply to someone who was grieving the death of a friend. That reply has since traveled far beyond its original context, reposted across grief forums, blogs, and even highlighted years later by GOOD magazine (June 16, 2025). Its staying power is not in polished theology but in its raw humanity. GSnow spoke of grief not as a puzzle to be solved but as an ocean to be endured, giving the bereaved a picture they could hold onto when everything else felt uncertain.

Below is GSnow’s full reply, unchanged, in all its gentle, wave-crashing beauty:

“Alright, here goes. I’m old. What that means is that I’ve survived (so far) and a lot of people I’ve known and loved did not. I’ve lost friends, best friends, acquaintances, co-workers, grandparents, mom, relatives, teachers, mentors, students, neighbors, and a host of other folks. I have no children, and I can’t imagine the pain it must be to lose a child. But here’s my two cents.

I wish I could say you get used to people dying. I never did. I don’t want to. It tears a hole through me whenever somebody I love dies, no matter the circumstances. But I don’t want it to “not matter”. I don’t want it to be something that just passes. My scars are a testament to the love and the relationship that I had for and with that person. And if the scar is deep, so was the love. So be it. Scars are a testament to life. Scars are a testament that I can love deeply and live deeply and be cut, or even gouged, and that I can heal and continue to live and continue to love. And the scar tissue is stronger than the original flesh ever was. Scars are a testament to life. Scars are only ugly to people who can’t see.

As for grief, you’ll find it comes in waves. When the ship is first wrecked, you’re drowning, with wreckage all around you. Everything floating around you reminds you of the beauty and the magnificence of the ship that was, and is no more. And all you can do is float. You find some piece of the wreckage and you hang on for a while. Maybe it’s some physical thing. Maybe it’s a happy memory or a photograph. Maybe it’s a person who is also floating. For a while, all you can do is float. Stay alive.

In the beginning, the waves are 100 feet tall and crash over you without mercy. They come 10 seconds apart and don’t even give you time to catch your breath. All you can do is hang on and float. After a while, maybe weeks, maybe months, you’ll find the waves are still 100 feet tall, but they come further apart. When they come, they still crash all over you and wipe you out. But in between, you can breathe, you can function. You never know what’s going to trigger the grief. It might be a song, a picture, a street intersection, the smell of a cup of coffee. It can be just about anything…and the wave comes crashing. But in between waves, there is life.

Somewhere down the line, and it’s different for everybody, you find that the waves are only 80 feet tall. Or 50 feet tall. And while they still come, they come further apart. You can see them coming. An anniversary, a birthday, or Christmas, or landing at O’Hare. You can see it coming, for the most part, and prepare yourself. And when it washes over you, you know that somehow you will, again, come out the other side. Soaking wet, sputtering, still hanging on to some tiny piece of the wreckage, but you’ll come out.

Take it from an old guy. The waves never stop coming, and somehow you don’t really want them to. But you learn that you’ll survive them. And other waves will come. And you’ll survive them too. If you’re lucky, you’ll have lots of scars from lots of loves. And lots of shipwrecks.”

Biblical Bridges for the Wave Metaphor #

GSnow’s imagery of grief as crashing waves is powerful on its own, but when joined with the witness of Scripture, it gains a deeper, Spirit-filled resonance. The Bible itself often portrays human suffering, danger, and even the work of God through the language of water, storms, and seas. Pastors can use these texts alongside GSnow’s metaphor to give mourners both emotional recognition and spiritual grounding.

1. The Depths of the Sea (Psalm 42:7)

“Deep calls to deep at the roar of your waterfalls; all your breakers and your waves have gone over me.”

The psalmist does not hide from the language of drowning. Instead, he describes sorrow as overwhelming waters. Like GSnow’s 100-foot waves, the psalmist names grief as something that crashes again and again. Pastors can draw on this to say, “Even Scripture admits that sorrow can feel like drowning. Yet it also assures us that God is present even in those depths, lifting us when the waters threaten to overwhelm, and promising that His presence will never leave us.”

“Save me, O God! For the waters have come up to my neck. I sink in deep mire, where there is no foothold; I have come into deep waters, and the flood sweeps over me.” (Psalm 69:1–2)

2. Passing Through the Waters (Isaiah 43:2)

“When you pass through the waters, I will be with you; and through the rivers, they shall not overwhelm you.”

Where GSnow offers the imagery of floating on wreckage, Scripture adds the promise of God’s companionship. Pastors can assure grieving people that survival is not a solo act: the Lord Himself enters the flood with them.

3. Jesus Calms the Storm (Mark 4:39)

“And he awoke and rebuked the wind and said to the sea, ‘Peace! Be still!’ And the wind ceased, and there was a great calm.”

Just as GSnow says waves never fully stop, the Gospels show us storms are real. Yet Christ reveals His authority over them. For pastoral care, this means acknowledging the storm but also pointing to the One who holds ultimate power over it.

4. Walking on Water (Matthew 14:29–30)

Peter stepped out of the boat and walked toward Jesus, but when he saw the wind and waves, he began to sink. His cry, “Lord, save me!” shows the raw reality of fear in the midst of grief-like storms. Christ’s immediate hand of rescue mirrors pastoral care: reaching out to lift a soul who is sinking under the waves of sorrow.

5. The River of Life (Revelation 22:1)

At the end of the biblical story, the imagery of water is redeemed: “Then the angel showed me the river of the water of life, bright as crystal, flowing from the throne of God and of the Lamb.”

Here the flood is no longer a symbol of loss but of eternal healing. Pastors can assure believers that the waves of grief are not the final word. Beyond the wreckage lies the river of life where God wipes away every tear.

Pastoral Application

By weaving GSnow’s metaphor with these biblical images, pastors can:

• Validate grief with realism (the waves are real).
• Offer God’s promises of presence (you will not drown).
• Point to Christ’s authority (He still commands storms).
• Provide eternal hope (one day, the waters will be living streams).

Pastoral Scenarios for Using the Wave Metaphor #

Hospital Bedside Visit

Setting: A pastor visits a man whose wife has just passed away after a long illness.

Minister’s Approach: Instead of rushing into explanations, the pastor sits quietly, offering presence first. After a while, they say: “I know it may feel like the pain is crashing over you in waves right now. That’s not a sign of weakness. It’s exactly how grief works. Even the psalmist said, ‘All your waves have gone over me’ (Psalm 42:7). For now, your only task is to breathe and hold on. Christ is here with you, even in the flood.”

Why it works: The metaphor validates the chaos of grief, while Scripture assures God’s presence.

Funeral Sermon

Setting: A family has gathered to bury their mother. Emotions are raw and unpredictable.

Minister’s Approach: During the sermon, the pastor weaves the imagery together:
“Grief does not come in tidy stages. It comes in waves. Sometimes the waves are tall and fierce, knocking us down. Other times they are gentle ripples that catch us by surprise. GSnow’s words remind us of this reality. Yet Isaiah 43:2 promises, ‘When you pass through the waters, I will be with you.’ Our hope is not that waves will stop, but that Christ walks with us through them until the day when God Himself will wipe away every tear.”

Why it works: The sermon teaches mourners what to expect emotionally while grounding their hope in Scripture.

One-on-One Biblical Guidance Session

Setting: A young woman, three months after losing her brother, feels guilty for crying “out of nowhere” at a grocery store.

Minister’s Approach: The pastor explains:

“That is what grief does. It comes in waves, sometimes when we least expect it. It could be a smell, a song, or even just a passing thought. You are not broken because this happens. It’s part of love’s scar. Jesus Himself wept at His friend’s tomb (John 11:35). You are in good company.”

Why it works: The metaphor normalizes her emotional “setbacks,” and Scripture affirms that grief itself is sacred.

Anniversary Check-In

Setting: A year after a death, the pastor calls the family on the anniversary.

Minister’s Approach:

“I know today might feel like another wave is coming. Grief has a way of returning at birthdays, holidays, and anniversaries. But remember, you’ve survived the earlier waves, and with Christ’s help, you’ll survive this one too. The scar you carry is a testimony of love, not of failure.”

Why it works: Anticipates the “predictable waves” GSnow described, showing proactive care and shepherding.

Youth Group Teaching Moment

Setting: A teenager in the youth group has lost a parent. Others in the group are unsure how to respond.

Minister’s Approach:

“Imagine grief like being in the ocean. At first the waves knock you flat, and you can barely breathe. Later, the waves still come, but further apart. If you see your friend crying suddenly, don’t say, ‘Aren’t you over it yet?’ Instead, be the person who sits with them until the wave passes.”

Why it works: Makes the metaphor concrete for young people while teaching them empathy.

Summary of Use

• Hospital bedside: Use waves to validate shock and disorientation.
• Funeral sermon: Teach the congregation that grief will ebb and flow but Christ is present.
• Counseling session: Normalize unpredictable grief responses.
• Anniversary check-in: Proactively acknowledge the return of grief waves.
• Youth group teaching: Equip peers to respond with compassion.

Just imagine what would happen if more ministers use an evangelism of grief (bringing people to Christ “because of their grief and suffering.) After all, He is the source of all hope and peace.  #

NACM Members My Click Here to Discuss This Article in the Fellowship