How faith helps with grief.
Every now and then, life has a habit of punching an ugly hole in our parachute. It happened to me last year. One minute, I was drifting around, admiring the scenery and the next minute, hurtling towards the ground thinking, “Well, this is all a bit much, isn’t it?
Grief and trauma can do that. Like unwelcome visitors, showing up unannounced, not bothering to knock, expecting endless cups of tea and biscuits and refusing to leave.
So, what do we do when we are hurtling towards the ground? We all respond differently, of course, but for many, the answer lies in faith. Not an “I’ll-cross-my-fingers-and-hope-for-the-best” kind of faith, but the type that offers a steadying hand when everything else feels decidedly uncertain.
But what exactly is faith? Read on to learn how faith helps with grief.
When Answers Run Out: Enter Kierkegaard
The 19th-century Danish philosopher Søren Kierkegaard spoke of a moment many encounter during suffering. A sort of fork in the road, a bewildering junction. Up to that point, a person might seek answers in science, logic, or rational explanation. But then something happens. A loss so profound, a grief so personal, that no amount of data or analysis can speak to it. It’s here, Kierkegaard said, that you face a choice: you either continue searching for objective, empirical answers that may never come, or you take what he called a “leap of faith.”
For Kierkegaard, faith isn’t about proving anything. It’s not about finding evidence of God’s existence or proof of a higher plan. It’s about embracing the subjective. In the absence of an objective truth to give you answers, a subjective truth is all that you have. You can’t go fact-checking to get an explanation. At this point, you might choose to believe in something deeper, something that transcends the usual logic and reason that we apply to our daily lives. This doesn’t mean ignoring reality. It just means accepting that some of life’s biggest questions don’t have neat, testable answers.
For people coping with trauma or grief, this fork in the road can feel incredibly real. Empirical tools can take us part of the way in answering our questions, but at some point, as Kierkegaard reminds us, the journey becomes personal. And for many, it becomes spiritual.
And it’s not just the philosophers. What do the psychologists say?
A Framework for Meaning (Because “Why?” Is a Rather Tricky Question)
Most of us have been there. That moment when life punched you in the face left you wondering why. “Why is this happening?” There’s rarely, if ever, a straightforward answer. But Psychology suggests that during times of grief, faith can step in with something rather useful — A neatly packaged framework to help you make sense of the chaos. Whether that’s having faith in karma, divine will, or simply the universe doing its mysterious thing, faith offers a narrative that says, “This pain isn’t random, and there is a meaning.” Research suggests that finding meaning in loss can actually help people heal more effectively. David Kessler, a renowned grief and loss expert, often discusses Elizabeth Kubler-Ross’s ‘five stages of grief model’ — denial, anger, bargaining, depression and acceptance. But Kessler proposes that there is a sixth stage after acceptance, calling this final stage, ‘post-traumatic growth’. It is the part of the process in which we find meaning and move forward productively. In a TED discussion, he states:
“We always hear about post-traumatic stress, but post-traumatic growth actually occurs more. And that is the finding meaning. Here’s one of the myths: We think we make our grief get smaller, that that’s the goal. The goal isn’t to make our grief smaller. The goal is for us to become bigger, to grow around this grief.
It’s not, “What are we going to do after this loss?”
But “Who are we going to be?” How can we honor the person who died?
How can we make a life and a world that’s more meaningful, where maybe the bad thing that happened to you doesn’t happen to other people in the future.”
Your process might involve lighting a candle or quietly saying a prayer. It may look like simply gazing up at the stars and pondering the profound secrets of the universe. There may be many paths to the same destination. Finding faith can help you to connect the dots and move forward. It’s all about trusting the process and knowing that everything will be okay.
Community: The Ultimate Support Network
Grief is isolating, but faith loves company. Religious communities are the ultimate big group hug and provide a necessary support network in difficult times. Churches, mosques, synagogues, temples, or even a humble, local prayer group. They bring home-cooked meals, hold your hand, and are just ..there. Reminding you that you’re not alone.
There’s something very reassuring about being surrounded by people who’ve been there, done that, got the T-shirt and somehow made it out to the other side.
Rituals: Because Sometimes You Just Need a Bit of Structure
When you’re grieving or dealing with trauma, even the simplest tasks can feel like you’re scaling a freezing mountain in the wrong shoes with no jacket. (Seriously, who has the energy to decide what to have for dinner, let alone cook it?). This is where faith steps in with its rather handy toolkit of rituals.
For some people this may mean sitting shiva. For others, reciting prayers, singing hymns, or lighting candles. These practices give you a roadmap when you’re feeling lost, and they’re not just symbolic, they’re practical and serve a clear function. They create a rhythm, a sense of “Right, I know what to do next.”
Anthropologist Arnold van Gennep famously described rituals — such as funerals — as “rites of passage” that function to help individuals transition from one state of being to another. They guide individuals through the liminal phase of uncertainty and create a way to transition and move forward following a significant loss. They provide the gently-lit pathway from the initial shock of loss to finding meaning. From disorientation to reorientation.
And the comfort of ritual isn’t exclusive to ‘believers’. Even atheists can find faith. While it might not necessarily be faith in the divine, it is still a kind of faith and trusting of the ritual process itself. A trust in the reliability of the structure, and just simply knowing what to do and what practical steps to take when life is chaotic and everything else feels unbearably unknowable.
Science and Faith: An Unexpected Pairing
Here’s where things get rather interesting. Modern psychology is starting to give faith a nod of approval. Therapists might not prescribe prayer (though, frankly, it couldn’t hurt), but they’re recognising that spiritual beliefs can be a rather powerful tool for resilience.
Faith-based interventions are even becoming part of some trauma recovery programmes, particularly in communities where religion plays a central role. For example organisations like the WHO and UNHCR now work with faith-based groups in trauma support, particularly those experiencing humanitarian crises. It’s absolutely not about converting people. it’s about drawing on the strength and hope that already exist.
A quick Google search of ‘Spiritually Integrated Psychotherapy’ will give you more information on how spirituality, (which can include religion), offers several benefits for individuals coping with trauma, grief, and loss.
Final Thoughts
There is no magic wand that can erase pain and make tragedy disappear. It’s a natural part of life. But faith does, for millions of people worldwide, provide a method of weathering the storm. It points people in the right direction, reorienting them towards meaning, community, and a sense of continuity when everything else feels decidedly uncertain, messy and painful.
Perhaps the greatest gift of faith in grief is that it allows us to hold two seemingly contradictory truths simultaneously: that some things can never be truly fixed, and yet we can still move forward. Not unchanged, but undefeated.
When the ground eventually returns beneath our feet, we stand a bit differently than before. Faith doesn’t promise a painless landing, but it does whisper that even in our falling, we are not alone.