Stop Telling me "God has a Plan"

Whenever someone has suffered a loss or is grieving, there's a whole cluster of clichés that are repeated as though they were a ritual.

• "It's a part of God's plan." 
• "They're in a better place now." 
• "It could have been worse." 
• "You're young enough to have another child/remarry/find someone new." 
• "Be grateful you had the time with them you did." 
• "God must have needed another angel in heaven." 
• "I know EXACTLY how you feel [and proceeds to compare their grief in such a way that monopolizes the empathy]." 
• "You have so many other things to be grateful for." 
• "Be thankful you have another daughter/son/grandparent/parent." 

...and their variations against many others.  If the phrase starts with "At least..." it's probably somewhere in the vicinity of these.  I remember experiencing a slew of them when my grandfather died, specifically at his visitation.  "He's in a better place now," one person told me in consolation, with a gentle pat on the arm.

At fifteen, I wasn't having it, replying back in tears "but he's not here!"  I don't recall what their response was, but I know that this is not what they were expecting.  I was angry at them in that moment.  Their words were well-meant, intended to be comforting, but the implication behind some of the words was that I shouldn't feel bad because he was in a better place.  My grief was not being recognized in that moment--there is an edge of "get over it" in those words that I cannot abide.  I was missing my grandfather, and they were effectively telling me I shouldn't be feeling that.  Even now in my adult-filtered responses, I feel my response would be something like "Yes, I know, but I'm still hurting now."  I am not agonizing in that moment about the state of his spirit but instead feeling separated and recognizing acutely the missing presence of someone I love.  This statement is accidentally manipulative to get me to stop crying at a time when I really need to have a good cry and feel what I'm feeling.

The one I really want to address though are variants of "God has a plan."  This is another phrase that translates into a "Stop crying and get over it."  This phrase does not recognize my grief; it tries to explain it away so that I stop crying.  But I need to be present with my grief.  I need to process, and I need to recognize that state of loss.  Saying "God has a plan," as though that's all there needs to be said about the situation I'm going through so that we can move on, that's not compassion.  That's "I'm uncomfortable with you feeling bad so...stop."

That's reason enough for distaste as it is.  But the phrase can be even more insidious:  someone that is experiencing some serious grief that is told that the loss they are experiencing is "part of God's plan," how are they supposed to interpret that?  God did this to you so that you could learn something?  God did this to you for some divine reason?  On the one hand, that can be a comforting thought in some circumstances that at least there's a validation for all of this suffering, like undergoing a medical test, a temporary pain for your overall future betterment.  Sometimes that makes the sting a little bit more bearable.  But other times it generates resentment.  I don't personally believe that God is in heaven doling out miscarriages, terrible diseases, family drama, abusive relationships, and whatever else from a selected seat in the clouds, picking and choosing which people suffer what and when.  That does not line up with the compassionate and loving vision of God that I have.  When someone is vulnerable, why would I want to suggest to them that God might have done this to them on purpose?  

I do think that things happen and God can take that something and turn it toward something good.  I also feel there can be people and situations in our lives to help us make decisions, but I don't feel that everything is sketched out to use suffering to help us make the decisions.  I buy into that free will thing, where I think that God lets us suffer the consequences of our own actions and has a direction for us, but that doesn't mean that being cut off in traffic, choosing Taco Bell for lunch, or getting to the grocery store before we run out of toilet paper, is scripted out, in my estimation of things.  Other people's free will sometimes has splash damage, too, meaning that you can get caught in the consequences of someone else's free will.  But sometimes, this world is just chaos.  Again, I think that God can take those places and turn them into something beautiful, but I reject the idea of the pick-and-choose suffering model.  

Between that implication and the subtle manipulation of "you should stop being sad now," I'm not a fan of how this phrase has been used.  I think the speakers of "God has a plan" tend to have good intent, but the impact of this statement can be more damaging that helpful, either by denying someone their own grief or planting a vision of God that is cruel.  People are allowed to experience their grief as they need to; trying to bring up a theological discussion may not be the best help at the moment.

I don't want to think about my chronic illness as something that God has done to teach me and those that love me some kind of lesson.  I've learned a lot about patience in my experience with Crohn's disease and the American healthcare system; it's definitely shaped who I am.  But I don't need a "master plan" for that suffering to be validated.  Some beautiful things developed from it, and I have grown so much compassion for others that grieve or are going through their own complex medical issues--it makes me feel old in some interesting ways.  

I've seen "God has a plan" used to silence people that needed to talk about something important.  I've seen that phrase used to belittle the pain someone is feeling.  I've seen people digest that phrase with a lot of significant misgivings.  There may be some scenarios where it helps, that it's a consolation prize in a world of chaos and hurt, but I have seen too many where the impact was more pain, despite how well-intended the intent was.  At this point in the game, when those words are directed at me, I shake my head internally. 

If they're going to try to steer the conversation I need to have with platitudes meant to end it, I can oblige and let them end it, even let them go on thinking that they helped.  I try to give people the benefit of the doubt--they're also not the individual I'm going to go to in the future when I need someone to really listen.  And I'm not saying that I haven't used some of the aforementioned phrases at some point in my life either, specifically the borderline "I'm glad [person/animal] is no longer in pain;" I try to temper it now with something like "you must miss them terribly" to still open the door for grief.  

The best kind of helpers regarding grief tend to do the following, in my experience:  

• Tend to the physical (make sure that food and other basic necessities are met)
• Continue to check back in, acknowledging that grief isn't something magically over once you hit an invisible expiration date
• Don't try to rush the grieving process
• Listen openly, WITHOUT the intent to "fix it" (which I think is where a lot of these platitudes come from)
• Be a compassionate presence:  just being there without saying a word can be HUGE
• Be sincere

But most of all, let the grieving person set the pace.  If they don't want to talk about it, maybe it's time to be a distraction.  I've flat-out asked that question many times ("would you like to talk or would you rather be distracted?"), and often even checking back in with the same question later.  Don't shut down the conversation just because you're uncomfortable with someone's tears--let people cry, dammit.  Send a card if you're not able to listen from where you are (either physically or emotionally).  Don't say anything because it's what you're "supposed" to say in this situation.  There isn't a magic line of knowing the person well enough to talk to their family--send a card if you're not sure.  And rest assured that no one really knows what to say at first, in my opinion because we avoid talking about death in our culture, but this is a skill set that can be learned. Everyone will encounter grief at some point:  these are skills worth learning.