Jesse Reimers

Grief changes us. It strips away illusions, rearranges our priorities, and forces us to face the fragility of life and ministry. For pastors, especially those in small churches, grief can feel like both a personal and corporate earthquake—shaking relationships, ministries, and even one’s sense of calling. But here’s the truth the gospel relentlessly proclaims: Loss is never the end of the story for those in Christ. From Genesis to Revelation, the God we serve is in the business of bringing life from death, beauty from ashes, and restoration from ruin.  The Long Road from Grief to Hope Grief is not a short detour—it’s a road we walk for a season. And while some people expect a quick return to “normal,” grief is more like crossing a valley: you go in one way and come out changed. For pastors, this journey is complicated by the need to keep leading others while processing personal pain. It’s tempting to skip ahead to “hope” before we’ve fully honored the losses. But genuine hope is ...

When someone in our congregation is grieving, our first instinct as pastors is often to say something—something comforting, something encouraging, something wise. After all, words are part of our calling. We preach, counsel, and pray with words every week. But when grief runs deep, words are rarely what people remember most . What they remember is whether you showed up… and stayed. In grief care, one of the most powerful gifts you can give is not a perfect sermon or a well-crafted answer—it’s the gift of your presence .  Presence Over Platitudes Job’s friends actually got it right—at first. “When they saw him from a distance, they could hardly recognize him; they began to weep aloud… Then they sat on the ground with him for seven days and seven nights. No one said a word to him, because they saw how great his suffering was.” – Job 2:12–13 For a full week, they simply sat with Job in silence. The trouble came when they decided to start talking, offering theological explanations...

There’s an old saying in ministry: “Shepherds don’t get to limp in public.” It’s the unspoken pressure that pastors should always be the strong ones—the stable voice in the storm, the smile in the hospital room, the calm presence when others fall apart. But here’s the problem: shepherds are human too. And humans grieve. For pastors in small churches, where relationships with members often feel more like family than acquaintances, grief can cut deeply. Whether it’s the loss of a beloved member, a personal tragedy, or the heartbreak of seeing a ministry vision collapse, the question inevitably arises: How do I keep leading when I’m hurting?   The Myth of the Unshakable Pastor Many pastors believe—sometimes subconsciously—that their credibility depends on appearing unshakable. They fear that showing grief will cause people to lose confidence in their leadership or in God Himself. But that’s not the picture Scripture gives us. Moses fell on his face before God in front of the wh...

One of the hardest parts of grief—especially for pastors—is not always the pain of the loss itself. It’s the unsettling silence that sometimes follows. We pray, we cry out, we open our Bibles looking for a word that leaps off the page… and nothing comes. Worship songs feel hollow. Sermons are prepared out of discipline, not delight. The God who once felt so near suddenly seems far away. If you’ve been in ministry for any length of time, you’ve likely encountered this: the spiritual crisis of grief —those seasons when the presence of God feels hidden and His voice muted. The Pain No One Prepares You For As pastors, we are used to being the ones who remind others that “God is near to the brokenhearted” (Psalm 34:18). We’ve preached it with conviction. We’ve prayed it over grieving families. But when grief knocks at our own door, the emotional reality can feel like the opposite. You might wonder: Why can’t I sense God like I used to? Is my faith slipping? Am I doing something wro...