There are people reading this who have dreams that have not been realized, expectations that haven’t been met. Others have experienced divorce, miscarriages, infertility, infidelity, homelessness, and job loss. Some of us have buried lovers, buried children, buried parents, buried sisters. When we find ourselves in these moments, we often ask, Why? Why does suffering happen? Why is sorrow in my life? What did I do? Why is God doing these things to me?

In the October 2018 conference, Elder Neil L. Andersen said, “We search for happiness. We long for peace. We hope for love. And the Lord showers us with an amazing abundance of blessings. But intermingled with the joy and happiness, one thing is certain: there will be moments, hours, days, sometimes years when your soul will be wounded.”[1] The language of wounding the soul arrests me – it aptly describes how I’ve experienced the greatest challenges of my life. I’m not alone in this; we all know the sorrow of a wounded soul. What causes us sorrow and how we cope and respond to it is unique for each of us, but experiencing it is an unavoidable part of mortality.

I’ve been contemplating what we learn about sorrow from the events in the Garden of Gethsemane. In Matthew, we read about a time when Christ, “ began to be sorrowful and very heavy.”[2] He expresses this to a few of his apostles, “My soul is exceeding sorrowful, even unto death.”[3] In his sorrow, he turns to his disciples, his friends, and asks them to stay with him, to witness as he experiences this deep sorrow. Christ then prays to the Father, and the sorrow comes – it multiplies, it breaks open his soul as he takes on and experiences all of the sorrows – yours, mine, everyone’s. He takes it all, and it’s so intense that he pleads to the Father, “My Father, if it be possible, let this cup pass from me. Nevertheless, not as I will, but as thou wilt.”[4] But the Father doesn’t take it away; He knows Christ’s capabilities. Instead, God sends a strengthening angel.[5]

Angel of Strength by Paige Payne

The knowledge of strengthening angels has been a touchstone for me as I have gone through the soul wounding sorrows of my life. It reminds me that I am never alone, even in the darkest moments. It also teaches me about the nature of God. I don’t believe in a God who doles out suffering, thinking – “You know, it’d be good for Liz if she experiences this really awful thing. That’d be really great for her.” Instead, I believe in a God who created an earth school that is subject to natural laws and values agency. Sorrow is a consequence of natural laws and human agency. The Godhead stays with us and bears witness to our sorrow. They provide comfort and guidance. They send strengthening angels.

When teaching about the atonement, Alma says, “And thus he shall bring salvation to all those who shall believe on his name; this being the intent of this last sacrifice, to bring about the bowels of mercy, which overpowereth justice… thus mercy can satisfy the demands of justice, and encircles them in the arms of safety.”[6] It was through the soul-wounding sorrow Jesus experienced in the garden of Gethsemane and on the cross at Calvary that he became the Christ.

I’ve come to realize that sorrow is not only a mortal experience – it is part of immortal/eternal existence. We learn in the Doctrine & Covenants that the heavens weep for Lucifer.[7] In Moses, God shares the history of the world with Enoch. And in response to the consequences of nature and human agency, the heavens and God weep. Enoch asks, “How is it that the heavens weep, and shed forth their tears as the rain upon the mountains? How is it that thou canst weep, seeing thou art holy, and from all eternity to all eternity?”[8]

Even God, even exalted and immortal beings, experience sorrow. As I take that in and accept that sorrow is part of existence, I’m less compelled to ask why this is happening and instead ask, What am I supposed to learn from this? How does this develop my divinity, my godly attributes?

This forces me to reckon with how I respond to sorrow. There are many ways that I/we respond, but, generally, it’s one of two ways – avoiding or facing. It is natural and understandable to want to avoid pain, to numb it. The world offers so many ways to do it – busyness, perfectionism, binge watching (my favorite), sex, substances, etc. We are much better at causing pain than we are at dealing with our own. Sometimes, when we are in pain, we’ll lash out at people, blame them; or we may distance ourselves, push people away, become bitter, angry, or resentful.

The numbing and avoiding are only sustainable for so long. Until the wounded soul is faced, the sorrow will remain. The only way out is through. If we choose to go through it, we gain the gifts of the gods.

In 2016, my soul was rent by the unexpected death of my sister, Lisa. I was forever altered by the grief that consumed me. Turning towards the pain and permitting the waves of grief to wash through me was at times harrowing. Tending to my grief through art, therapy, and love has gifted me with a deeper capacity and a sacred type of knowing. I am now more equipped to show up for wounded souls with greater compassion and empathy. Showing up from this place knits souls together and fosters further healing. I experienced this when, years later, I called on these sacred, godly gifts as I loved, mourned with, and bore witness as my best friend’s thirteen-year-old daughter died from a brain tumor. Being with her in this tragedy strengthened our friendship and mended parts of my brokenness.

Healing our wounds is painful. It is scary. It can be the hardest thing to do. It is radical and sacred work. If we are brave enough to walk through the valley of shadows, we gain what is wholly divine.

References
[1] Anderson, Neil L, “Wounded”, General Conference October 218
[2] Matthew 26:37
[3] Matthew 26:38
[4] Matthew 26:39
[5] Luke 22:43
[6] Alma 34:15-16
[7] D&C 76:26
[8] Moses 7:28-29