I was recently reading through some liturgies in the Every Moment Holy: Death, Grief, and Hope book and came across the phrase “O God who Inhabits Our Sorrows.” Something struck me so deeply when I read that because we all know the type of Christianity that glorifies only some emotions (hint: they’re only the “positive” ones). So having language for how I understand the nature of Christ being “near to the broken hearted” (Psalm 34:18) settled something in my chest.
To understand that phrasing better, I looked at how “inhabit” is defined and found:
-
- “To occupy or serve as the home or habitat”
- “To be present within, exist in, or fill a space”
- And when this term is used in Scripture, it usually describes a permanent, established presence rather than a temporary visit
It seems to me that this could mean both that God is the permanent home/habitat in which all of our sorrow is contained and that he is fully present in and to our sorrows. He is both containing and filling the entity of that grief space.
In the darkest, loneliest days of my life a few years ago, I faced isolation deeper than I’m able to articulate. And the deeper I went into my sorrow and despair, the deeper I met the God “who did not turn from any human sorrow but bore them all.”
I think when we come to things like a Legacy Retreat® with Inheritance of Hope, we feel this urging in ourselves to push aside our sorrows, put away our pain. The narrative we might be telling ourselves is, “These families have it so much worse than me.”
Okay, and? Let that be true. Let their hard be hard. But I want to invite you to see the Lord in both your suffering and theirs. Because we are not coming here as heroes, as those coming to save “those poor folks who have it so much worse than me.” We are coming here, humble brothers and sisters, benevolent witnesses to one another’s pain. Sitting in these spaces where the Lord inhabits our sorrows. . . . all of our sorrows (yours and mine included).
In that dark season, I found a lot of relief in the concept that people can only meet you as deep as they have met themselves. Because when others flippantly shared meaningless cliches that only added to the harm I was experiencing, I was able to differentiate from them, comforted in the realization that the person uncomfortable with my pain was likely just uncomfortable looking at theirs, unable to acknowledge their own desires and need for the God of all comforts to meet them in their sorrows.
So let this not be an exhortation to unburden yourselves on those already carrying their own loads this weekend. Instead, let it be a gentle invitation to go deeply into your own pain. Because the God who Inhabits Our Sorrows waits for you there.
And the more gracious + gentle + familiar + comfortable we are with our own grief, the more gracious + gentle + familiar + comfortable we can be with other’s grief.
I’m now going to piece together some words from Every Moment Holy so that it applies to the sacred work before us on a Legacy Retreat®:
“In your wisdom and mercy, O Lord, you have decreed that it is not good for us to grieve alone. We who are called by your name are to suffer and to rejoice, together. And this bond of gentle, resolute love is to be one of the marks that defines your body, your children, your church.
Now send us out as the friends who will do this difficult work, O Lord. Shape us to be sympathetic allies willing to endure moments of awkwardness and hurt feelings in order to learn what it means to bear one another’s most grievous burdens.
Make me into a friend who will not run from the mess of what it means to love each other well in times of turbulent emotions and unpredictable responses.
Grace my journey with fellow pilgrims whose hearts are persistent, unwavering ones who will weep with one another on this shore, and who will rejoice together on the far shore once we have navigated the flood of grief.
May your body minister as you intended it, one part to another, as each has need. Teach your children what it means to walk together when it would be easier to walk away.
Lord, let me, in my need, be open to receive so that when I am confronted with the needs of others, I may lead them to you, the God Who Inhabits Our Sorrows, the One with whom I am familiar”
Ellie Ledin is Inheritance of Hope’s Creative Brand Manager. She originally shared this devotional with the Minneapolis Legacy Retreat® team in June 2026.