August 30, 2025
The post in question, titled “WHY IS GOD SILENT IN MY GRIEF?” spins a tale of a man’s tragic loss—his pregnant wife killed in a hit-and-run—and uses it as a springboard to normalize doubt, questioning, and feelings of abandonment as natural, even biblical, responses to grief. It cites David’s lament in Psalm 10:1, Job’s weeping, and even Jesus’ cry on the cross to suggest that grief “makes you question. It makes you doubt God’s love. It makes you feel abandoned.” Then it pivots to consolations like Psalm 34:18 and Hebrews 13:5, attributing the pain to Satan’s schemes while urging the reader to “let God in” and “hold His hand” through the “valley of sorrow.” This is presented as compassionate Christian teaching, but it’s a manipulative scam, rooted in emotionalism and unbelief. It’s autobiographical projection: just because grief shattered this writer’s faith doesn’t mean it shatters mine—or yours—and it certainly doesn’t mean the Bible endorses such weakness as inevitable or virtuous.
This theology is fraudulent because it elevates human experience over God’s revelation, turning grief into a license for unbelief. The post assumes that because one man “ran mad instantly” and his “mind broke,” this is the universal believer’s fate in loss. But that’s not Scripture; that’s superstition. Maxim 1: God is the foundation for theology, not man. If we start with man’s broken emotions as the norm, we end up with a defective worldview that glorifies doubt as a spiritual badge. The Bible doesn’t normalize grief-induced questioning as acceptable; it condemns it as sin. Faith, not feelings, is the command. Jesus didn’t say, “Grief makes you doubt—embrace it.” He said, “Have faith in God” (Mark 11:22). Jesus told Jairus to “not Fear,” but “only believe.” After telling the disciples about His death, Jesus said, “do you let your hearts be trouble,” and to “cheer up.” Doubt isn’t a phase; it’s disobedience.
Look at the Scriptures twisted here. David cries in Psalm 10:1, “Why, Lord, do you stand far off?” But the post ignores the resolution: David’s psalms end in triumph, affirming God’s deliverance (Psalm 10:16-18). David wasn’t modeling perpetual doubt; he was venting in a pre-resurrection era, before the full light of Christ’s victory. We live under the New Covenant, where the Spirit empowers us to claim joy and restoration now. To wallow in David’s momentary cry is to reject the gospel’s greater revelation. However, David said God delivers him from all his troubles, heals all his sickness, and prospers him. David was not a model of perpetual grief; his psalms often resolve in praise and confidence in God’s deliverance.
Job weeps in ashes after losing everything (Job 1:20-22), but the book isn’t a grief manual—it’s a revelation of God’s sovereignty being used to bless Job with double wealth and double health, in this life, not just the next. Job repents of his foolish questions (Job 42:1-6) and receives double back, not because he endured scars piously, but because he acknowledged God in truthfulness. The post’s “scars that no man can see” sentiment is humanistic drivel; Scripture promises healing for the brokenhearted, not eternal emotional wounds. The bibles says we have a sound mind full of peace and joy by the power of the Holy Spirit.
Even Jesus’ cry, “My God, why have You forsaken Me?” (Matthew 27:46), is abused to justify doubt. This wasn’t abandonment or questioning God’s love—it was fulfillment of Psalm 22, declaring the Messiah’s sin-bearing agony. Jesus bore our forsakenness so we wouldn’t have to. Think about that. Jesus bore our anguish, so we do not bear it in our minds. To equate our grief-doubts with Christ’s redemptive suffering is blasphemous, reducing the atonement to therapy for feelings. The post says, “Grief makes you doubt God’s love”—but that’s not biblical; that’s projection. Maxim 18: Jesus is the most God-centered man who ever lived. He marveled at faith, not doubt or good behavior. If grief “makes” you doubt, it’s because your faith was defective to begin with, rooted in emotions, not God’s Word.
This manipulation is autobiographical because the writer assumes his breakdown is everyone’s. “Many believers never remain the same after the passing of their loved ones.” Speak for yourself. I’ve lost my identical twin brother Joshua, as I dedicated my Systematic Theology to him. Did grief make me question God’s love? No. It drove me deeper into faith, affirming God’s sovereignty and promises. Maxim 2: God is absolutely and directly sovereign over all things, including knowledge, man, and salvation. God ordained the loss in the ultimate sense, but He relates to me on the relative level. He relates to me based on His finished atonement, established Contract and freely given promises to bless me, and give me abundant life (John 10:10). Satan steals and destroys. Satan is bad. God is good. The solution is not to feel abandoned but to exercise authority over Satan through faith. To feel “abandoned” is to ignore Hebrews 13:5, not because God is silent, but because you’ve plugged your ears with unbelief. God isn’t silent; He’s spoken in Scripture, the self-authenticating starting point. If you perceive silence, it means you are carnal and not spiritual: You are relating to God based on carnality or by sight and not by faith and the Spirit.
The consolations are half-truths laced with sentimentality. Psalm 34:18: “The Lord is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit.” This promises salvation from brokenness, not companionship in it. This verse promises salvation from crushed spirits, not perpetual companionship in them. God does not weep with you in some empathetic solidarity; He commands you to rejoice in His deliverance. God doesn’t “weep with you” in empathetic weakness—He takes the suffering away and replaces it with blessings. God’s power and love cannot be divided like a man. God’s love and power means He makes the bad things go away. The idea of God as a hand-holding therapist through the “valley of sorrow” reduces Him to a humanistic crutch, as mere human ability. All things are possible for God. But all things are possible for people with faith. Faith claims victory: “I will not die but live, and will proclaim what the Lord has done” (Psalm 118:17).
Revelation 21:4’s tear-wiping is eschatological, but faith tastes it now—no more mourning through the atonement. “There will be no more death or mourning or crying or pain”—refers to the eschatological consummation, but through faith, we taste this victory now. God is not waiting to walk you through pain; He has already provided the way out through faith in His Word.
Satan uses grief to break you? True, but the solution isn’t shutting God out—it’s unbelief that does that. The post urges, “Let God in. Don’t shut Him out.” But if you’re doubting, you’ve already shut Him out by rejecting His Word. Maxim 16: Reprobates who resist faith on demand for healing and blessings have sided with demons to trample the blood of Christ. This theology conspires against the gospel, glorifying emotional scars over faith’s triumph. It glorifies man as stronger than God, stronger than the Word, and stronger than the Spirit.
Reject this fraud. Grief doesn’t “make” you doubt unless you let it. Maxim 17: Faith will always move mountains, real ones. By faith, reality obeys you. By faith, you save yourself from grief’s madness. Confess God’s promises: comfort, restoration, joy. My brother’s death didn’t break me; it fueled my theology, pouring faith into pages so no one leaves before their time. Don’t normalize doubt—it’s unbelief. Stand on Scripture: God is sovereign, faith conquers. You being victorious over grief glorifies God, not your “scars.”
Maxim 14: Reprobates focus on men. Christians focus on God. Focus on Christ: “Weeping may endure for a night, but joy comes in the morning” (Psalm 30:5). Claim it by faith. No valley is too deep for mountain-moving belief. Faith is not an emotional state but a firm intellectual assent to God’s promises, confessed boldly regardless of circumstances.
The post ends with a link to “Christian Legacy Teachings,” but if this is their legacy, it is one of defeat, not the triumphant inheritance of the saints.
In a nutshell: Grief ain’t your faith’s kryptonite unless you hand over the cape. The post’s pity party is just emotional bait—don’t bite. God’s Word says faith flips the script on sorrow, turning tears into triumphs. Doubt? That’s unbelief’s autograph. Grab your faith hammer and smash those “scars”—because in God’s kingdom, victory’s the only scar that sticks.
