Sickness, Death, Jehovah's Witnesses and a Failed Dream Tested My Faith: Don't Let Grief Separate You from God

Teresa Neumann-Opinion : Aug 23, 2019
Breaking Christian News

In Part II, Teresa gives three highly personal examples of how the enemy uses grief to mess with our heads, hearts and spirit. Christians who are blind-sided by grief might themselves wallow in a pity party from Hell unless they're forewarned and equipped to respond.

Last week I shared a personal experience with grief, and how it affected my faith after having suffered a miscarriage. Today, I'm sharing about the loss of a sister in the natural, the loss of a sister in Christ, and the death of a dream—all of which tested my love for God. (Image: Teresa Neumann)

The Loss of My Natural Sister

In 1996, my beautiful, vibrant, sister—five years younger than me—was diagnosed with aggressive breast cancer. Although she'd been raised Catholic, Sue had become a Jehovah's Witness. My worship leader husband and I, on the other hand, having been born again through an outreach of the Assemblies of God, were actively serving our church. Because of our faith commitment, my sister was instructed to "shun" us. I lived in Oregon and she lived in Colorado, which meant that when she and her family came out to visit us, they were never allowed to eat a meal with us. In fact, they spent the majority of their time here with fellow Jehovah's Witnesses in the area. It would have been distressing enough under normal circumstances, but with her battling cancer, the shunning was utterly excruciating to endure.

Near the end, when Sue became really ill, all of my family traveled to Colorado to spend a few days with her. At one point, one of my sisters, a Christian, mentioned something about Heaven to Sue.

"I don't want anyone speaking to me of Heaven ever again," she replied. Clearly agitated, she added, "I don't believe in Heaven."

She then proceeded to tell us what the Watchtower Organization taught regarding life after death—which is basically that she would "sleep" until Planet Earth was renewed and then she would "swim with the fish in the ocean," etc. No mention of Heaven or Jesus.

I left Colorado on Amtrak that week on a late winter day battling anger, despair and a sense of hopelessness. Staring out the window at the approaching mountains, I turned and looked back at my sister's town fading away in the distance and told God, "I NEVER want to come back here."

Indeed, for a long time, Colorado represented death to me. Even the rock cliffs and pine forests I had so loved when I was younger, seemed lifeless to me now.

A few months later, on July 4, 1999, my precious sister passed away. She was 44-years-young. I woke up that morning not knowing her situation; how drastically she was failing. But I had one of the most intense urgings to pray I have ever experienced. I told my husband, "Something's going on with Sue. I have to pray right now."

After a time of travailing, I heard God ask, "Teresa, will you only love Me if those you love go to Heaven?"

I realized what that really meant; that I loved God under certain conditions, unlike He loved me. Remembering how unconditionally He loved me when I was yet a sinner, my faith in Him strengthened immediately.

"Yes, Lord," I replied. "Regardless of who accepts You and goes to Heaven, and who doesn't, I love You."

"Trust Me," He said.

At those words, I felt an incredible peace. In the natural, it made no sense, but in my spirit I knew—that I knew that I knew—God was in control and that as long as my sister had breath, He was with her. It didn't matter if I ever heard from her lips what she may have experienced in her last moments on Earth; I just knew God was there. Several hours later, I got the call that Sue was gone; a confirmation of my earlier burden to pray. Within days, our large family gathered together in Colorado one more time to lay her to rest.

I'd be lying if I said that since then, I haven't struggled with resentment towards the Watchtower Organization. For example, shortly after her death, two local Jehovah Witnesses came to my door and—very un-Christianly of me—I unloaded on them about how awful it was that they promote the shunning of families. I also told them that I held their organization responsible for the rift in my relationship with my sister and that they'd better let their superiors know that my house was off-limits to them forever.

And I haven't yet been back to Colorado since her funeral, but—thank God for healing—I hope to go soon!

The Loss of a Sister in Christ

One of the dearest friends I've ever had was a sister in Christ who I'll call "Meg." Meg was the woman who took me under her wing at the first Bible Study I ever hesitatingly attended and mentored me on my journey from atheist/agnostic to a dedicated lover of Jesus. She counseled me, was there every time I stumbled and answered every silly question I asked. She prayed for me countless times. We were both young, happy mothers who shared much of our lives together.

Then Meg—who was on the worship team at our church—fell, and fell hard. I never saw it coming. It happened so insidiously that even in hindsight, I can honestly say there were no signs. She made it abundantly clear to me that she was making a clean break with the church, and everyone and everything related to her former life, and did not want me to contact her.

It knocked the breath out of me. How could this have happened? I mean, I'd heard about Christians walking away from God, but to know someone so well who made that decision?

Not long afterwards, my mother was diagnosed with lung cancer. It was a triple whammy: The loss of my sister, the colossal fall of my dear friend and now my mother's illness. At the time, I didn't feel that my faith was being tested—because I had already weathered my miscarriage and Sue's death—but I felt my spiritual energy was spent. I was tired. Weary of fighting and praying. Exhausted of interceding. Wary of mentors. Skeptical of leaders. Afraid to watch my mother suffer for years through the same disease that took my sister.

Mom passed five-years later in 2006. Not long after her passing, my dad was diagnosed with lung-cancer and Alzheimer's. Those 15 years spanning the deaths of my sister Sue and my dad was a wilderness time of grief. Not a black curtain of mourning, but a cold undercurrent of dread that I fought hard, with God's grace, to keep at bay.

Jesus' injunction in Matthew 8:22 to "let the dead bury their dead" eventually spoke life to me. I understood that until we are dead, we are ALIVE, and as such have purpose and a destiny. Metaphorically, aligning ourselves with the dead through grieving them beyond what is respectfully necessary can eventually destroy life within us. Keeping Christ foremost in my life—not the Church or Christians, who are imperfect—kept my faith intact.

The Loss of a Dream

My husband Dave is an incredibly talented guitarist. He was born with the gift. By the time he was in high-school, he was already in a wildly successful band and recording for a big-name label.

When our oldest daughter was 8, she began taking violin lessons from a teacher who taught the Suzuki method, meaning it was best if a parent took lessons with her. I jumped at the chance because I'd always dreamed of playing violin. Reasoning that it would give my husband and me something to share in common, I pictured ourselves in the future, old and gray, happily playing music together. And being the over-achieving, Carpe Diem type that I am, I was determined to make that dream happen.

Fast forward 20 years—20 years of time and money spent on music lessons, intense practice, learning music theory and how to play by ear, and I was faced with a decision to drop the dream. Why?

Although I'd attained a playing level worthy of being on our worship team, most of the musicians were far more experienced and advanced than me and as a result—despite all my efforts—I constantly had to face my inadequacies. In fact, I finally realized that the gap between my musical ability and my husbands could never be bridged. Which meant that my vision of us riding into the sunset playing music together was nothing but a mirage.

Receiving a reality check after 20 years' investment into a dream was mortifying. I felt like a contestant on "American Idol" who had just woken up to the fact that they're inadequate for the prize after being judged by Simon Cowell. For months, I grieved over what I thought was a huge wasted part of my life. I'd seen people walk away from fellowships over lesser disappointments and now I knew why. Failed expectations are a killer.

But guess what? Paul Bunyan was right when he wrote in Pilgrim's Progress that, "It is always hard to see the purpose in wilderness wanderings until after they are over."

In time, I was able to thank God for the death of that dream. I switched out my passion for music to writing, which has proved to be a far better match for my gifting. I learned that I can't expect the Church or even a ministry to be the sole repository of our God-created giftings. The world needs them and there are so many other venues which can make use of them for His Glory. It's not the Church's problem that gifts, or dreams, languish. It's ours.

Although I rarely ever play the fiddle anymore, I don't regret the years spent learning the instrument and playing with a band. It gave me priceless insights into God's heart and my husband's calling. Who knows though? If a fiddle jam were to happen in my neighborhood, I might just show up!

Check out Teresa's final installment next week when she offers valuable tips for Christians and Church leaders who want to avoid falling into the traps grief can cause. Subscribe for free to Breaking Christian News here