If you’ve opened the news the last few days or weeks and your stomach dropped, and if the images and headlines have left you shaken, angry, confused, or numb, you’re not alone. These kinds of violent, public deaths land like a blow. They break the ordinary rules of life, and they make ordinary questions suddenly urgent: Why did this happen? Where is God in this? How do I keep going?
Below is a plain, compassionate response for anyone struggling right now. A way to move through grief, ask hard questions, and find a place to bring pain without pretending it’s all okay.
You don’t have to “get over it.” You can bring it to God.
A lot of us think we shouldn’t ask God the hard questions. We worry our doubt will make us look weak, or that honest anger is somehow sinful. Scripture gives us a different pattern. Look at Job, he questioned and poured out his pain to God and God did not condemn him for asking. Those raw prayers were not disqualified; they were prayers.
Jesus’ response to the disciples’ questions about suffering shifts the frame for us. When they asked who sinned to cause blindness, Jesus refused the blame game and said the suffering could show God’s work instead (John 9:1–3). It doesn’t magically remove the pain, but it invites us to bring our questions to the One who hears them and who is present in the mess.
So… take your questions, your anger, your fear and bring them to God. Don’t hide them. Don’t pretend you have tidy answers. Pray in silence, journal your feelings, cry out in frustration. Those are all ways of bringing your brokenness to the God who can hold it.
Allow yourself to mourn. Don’t rush the problem-solver instinct.
We’re trained to “do” something. When bad things happen, we want to control, explain, and fix them. That instinct can help, but when it becomes our first response, it keeps us from feeling and processing grief.
Mourning is a spiritual discipline. It’s honest; it lets the pain in so healing can begin. If the headlines have left you haunted, give yourself permission to sit with that grief for a while.
Practical idea: For the next 48 hours, carve out three short moments a day to name what you feel (fear, anger, numbness), and speak those words out loud to God or write them down. Tell someone close how the news made you feel. Naming pain is the first step to healing, rather than letting it harden into bitterness, paralysis, or fear.
We’re wired to ask “why?” and that’s okay, but don’t let the “why” become a prison.
“How could this happen?”
“Who’s to blame?”
“Is God punishing us?”
These are normal questions, but they can trap you when they become the only questions you ask.
Jesus redirected curiosity about cause toward purpose: what is God doing in the middle of this? It’s not a question that answers everything, but it’s a question that reorients you from blame to witness.
Ask both: Why did this happen? And how can God’s love be on display in the midst of it?
If you can’t answer the first question, that’s okay. Focus on the second. Look for small ways God’s love or goodness shows up: a friend who calls or brings a meal, a community that prays.
Practical steps for the days and weeks ahead:
- Limit news and social media intake. It’s fine to stay informed, but constant exposure rewires your brain to stay in fight-or-flight. Give yourself boundaries (e.g., one news check in the morning and one in the evening).
- Talk to someone who can help you process. A trusted friend, pastor, or counselor. Trauma and grief are not meant to be carried alone. If you feel overwhelmed, seek help. Grief counselors and therapists can give tools that friends can’t.
- Name your feelings out loud. Journaling, voice notes, or honest prayers help move emotions from your body to an outlet.
- Practice small rhythms of rest. Sleep, short walks, simple meals. When grief is heavy, the basics help your brain regulate.
- Join a community prayer. Shared prayer is powerful.
- Protect your words. Avoid acting on anger. Choosing to respond instead of react prevents deeper harm.
There is a way forward. Not by denying pain, but by letting God work through it.
Paul wrote about a “thorn in the flesh” he begged God to remove—but God’s answer was: “My grace is sufficient; my power is made perfect in weakness.” (2 Corinthians 12:9).
That’s not a quick fix. It’s a promise that when we are weak, the presence and power of Christ can rest on us in the waiting.
If you can, try this practice this week: Every evening, name one hard thing the day brought and one small sign of God’s presence you noticed, however small. It trains your eyes to spot God at work even when the world feels broken.
When the world’s grief feels political, choose compassion.
Public deaths can polarize people quickly. You may see angry accolades or cruel celebrations from strangers online and that can stir up more pain. Resist the pull into dehumanizing responses. Grief has no sides. People are people; families are shattered; all human beings are made in the image of God and need mercy.
If you’re tempted to feed outrage, pause and ask: What kind of witness does Jesus call me to be? Compassion does not mean agreeing with every view. It means holding to the dignity of human life and choosing to respond in ways that reflect the God we follow.
A Short Prayer…
God of comfort, the world feels fractured, and our hearts are heavy. Help us bring our questions to you honestly. Hold those who mourn. Help us not to harden in anger or sink into despair. Give us the courage to grieve well, to seek help, and to be light where darkness presses in. Show us how you are at work, even when we can’t see it. Amen.
