It is something you tend to hear a lot when you have endured a time of significant sorrow or suffering: “I know it’s nothing compared to yours, but…” We have a natural tendency to compare—to compare our experiences to another person’s and to rank or rate them accordingly. The person who has suffered the loss of a job feels awkward when speaking to someone who has suffered the loss of a spouse, the person who has suffered the loss of a parent to someone who has suffered the loss of a child.
Of course, the comparison can go two ways. It can be a comparison from the lesser to the greater where one person expresses their sorrow, but also insists that theirs must be smaller. “Who am I to grieve the loss of my job when you have lost your spouse?” Or it can be a comparison from the greater to the lesser, where someone expresses their sorrow in such a way that it makes another person’s seem wrong or inappropriate. “Who are you to grieve the loss of your mother when I have lost my daughter?”
Yet I am convinced there is little benefit in comparing sorrow. No one gains comfort by diminishing their grief in relation to another person’s. Likewise, no one gains comfort by amplifying their grief in relation to another person’s. Grief deserves comfort, but comparison is not comforting.
And that is because grief is an appropriate response to difficult circumstances. The loss of a job truly is sad and the loss of a parent truly is heartbreaking. Yes we do well to maintain some sense of proportion so that we do not mourn the loss of a pet to the degree that we mourn the loss of a spouse, but every grief is a consequence of humanity’s fall into sin and a part of living in a broken world. In every grief we lament not only the circumstance but also the greater reality of the brokenness of this world and the brokenness of our own selves. These things hurt because they are hurtful, we grieve them because they are grievous. It is right and appropriate to feel and express our sorrows without amplifying or diminishing the weight of them.
In every grief we lament not only the circumstance but also the greater reality of the brokenness of this world and the brokenness of our own selves. Share
We would do well to learn from our God who is compassionate to us in our sorrows. The Father does not diminish our sorrows by saying, “Has the entirety of humanity ever sinned against you? Have you ever created people in your image and then seen them commit treason against you?” Christ does not diminish our sorrows by saying, “Have you ever been crucified? Have you ever faced the wrath of the Father?” The Spirit does not diminish our sorrows by saying, “Have you ever been sinned against by people you have lovingly chosen to indwell?” Our Triune God is fully compassionate despite witnessing atrocities far beyond any we can imagine and despite being sinned against in ways we cannot even comprehend. He is compassionate to us in our grief—as compassionate as a Father toward his children.
It is right and fitting to grieve our griefs and lament our losses. And we can do so without comparison, without diminishment or amplification. For every grief is grievous. Every grief is a consequence of sin. And every grief directs our hearts and transfers our gaze to that place where there will be no more grief, no more sorrow, and no more loss.

This week’s Free Stuff Friday is sponsored by Radius International.  They are giving away a conference package that includes: 2 tickets, a Radius pullover, and 2 books.

The winner will receive two free tickets to the Radius Missiology Conference being held June 29-30, 2022, at Christ Covenant Church, Matthews, NC. This event will be live in person or available as a live stream. Kevin DeYoung, Alistair Begg, Ian Hamilton, Wayne Chen, Brooks Buser, Chad Vegas, and others from the Radius world will be live and in-person to teach on the Great Commission in today’s world with free books from 9Marks, Banner of Truth, and others.
The winner will receive a Radius International branded pullover. Size and gender options to be selected by the winner from available stock.
The winners will also receive two books that Radius International highly recommends:
No Shortcut to Success
A Manifesto for Modern Missions
By Matt Rhodes
Avoid “Get-Rich-Quick” Missions Strategies and Invest in Effective, Long-Term Ministry
Trendy new missions strategies are a dime a dozen, promising missionaries monumental results in record time. These strategies report explosive movements of people turning to Christ, but their claims are often dubious and they do little to ensure the health of believers or churches that remain. How can churches and missionaries address the urgent need to reach unreached people without falling for quick fixes?
In No Shortcut to Success, author and missionary Matt Rhodes implores Christians to stop chasing silver-bullet strategies and short-term missions, and instead embrace theologically robust and historically demonstrated methods of evangelism and discipleship—the same ones used by historic figures such as William Carey and Adoniram Judson. These great missionaries didn’t rush evangelism; they spent time studying Scripture, mastering foreign languages, and building long-term relationships. Rhodes explains that modern missionaries’ emphasis on minimal training and quick conversions can result in slipshod evangelism that harms the communities they intend to help. He also warns against underestimating the value of individual skill and effort—under the guise of “getting out of the Lord’s way”—and empowers Christians with practical, biblical steps to proactively engage unreached groups.
Missions By The Book
How Theology and Missions Walk Together
by Chad Vegas and Alex Kocman
Across the church, there is a rift between theology and missions. Bad theology produces bad missions, and bad missions fuel bad theology.
We wrongly think that we must choose between making a global impact and thinking deeply about the things of God. But the relationship between theology and missions is symbiotic—one cannot exist without the other. They walk hand-in-hand.
Enter Here
Again, there is one package to win. And all you need to do to enter the draw is to drop your name and email address in the form below.
Giveaway Rules: You may enter one time. Winners will be notified by email. The giveaway closes on Sunday, Feb 6th, 2022 at midnight.

One of my favorite questions for times of small talk is “Why do you do what you do instead of doing something else?” Or sometimes a variation: “Why do you love what you do?” I ask this when I’m in the barber’s chair, on the x-ray table, or trying to articulate words as the dentist rummages around in my mouth—just about anywhere a person has devoted themselves to a particular vocation. My favorite answer so far has been from a dermatologist: “I work dentist hours but make doctor money.” Clever!
Of course, not everyone has the privilege of doing what they love and that comes out in conversation as well. I have met Uber drivers who immigrated to Canada and, as they did so, lost their engineering credentials. I have met people who were forced by their parents to pursue a field they didn’t care for and people who, through the vicissitudes of life, ended up doing something that engaged little of their passion and few of their skills.

My dad devoted the best of his life to landscaping. And while he loved the design aspect of the job, he also loved the actual work. In most of my memories of him, I picture him digging deep holes to plant trees, lugging huge rocks to build walls, laying bricks and stones to build pathways. He was rarely happier than when he was straining and sweating, combining artistry and brute strength to design something beautiful.
But his path to landscaping was not an easy one. Dad grew up a son of privilege and received little affirmation from his family when it came to his love for the natural world. I never met my grandfather so do not know whether he made dad feel that landscaping was beneath a Challies or whether he had just a bit of a complex about it and assumed his father’s disfavor. Either way, he ended up dedicating most of his life to doing what he loved, but I’m not convinced he always did it with a lot of confidence. I think he often felt the judgment of other people, whether real or imagined. That’s kind of tragic now that I think about it.

I am not the kind of person who dwells much on the past or who allows myself to look back with regret. Why should I remember what God has forgotten? What good does it do to glance backward? (The answer: usually about as much good as it did Lot’s wife.) Yet I do sometimes consider this: I wish I had thought to ask dad why he loved to do the job he chose to do.
Why should I remember what God has forgotten? What good does it do to glance backward?Share
Dad had skill and passion for landscaping and I wish I had thought to ask him why he loved it the way he did. What do you love about designing gardens? What do you love about hard manual labor? And then the more detailed questions: How do you decide which plants belong in which spots? How do you decide which plants complement one another? What do you love about this particular plant and that particular flower? What are you trying to accomplish in this garden? But, alas, to my recollection I asked none of these questions. I received none of the answers. And while I know what dad dedicated his life to, I don’t really know why.

When I ask others why they do what they do, I’m often blessed to hear them describe their love for things I’ve never considered lovable: crafting beautiful smiles from misaligned teeth, bringing order from numerical chaos, instructing children in the basic skills of life. As I listen and ask follow-up questions, I learn—I learn to appreciate what I have often never considered before and even what doesn’t especially enthuse me. God is good to give human beings skills and passions and good to allow us to express them in our vocations. He is good to allow our enthusiasm about these things to be transferable and contagious.
One thought that comforts me as I consider gifts, passions, and talents, is that I’m reasonably certain they carry over from this life to the next. After all, we carry over from this life to the next, and surely not as people who are made into entirely new individuals and given entirely new personalities, but as people who, though forgiven, restored, and perfected, are still ourselves. If this is the case, then those who have not been able to do what they love in this world will be able to explore it in the next. Those whose talents have laid dormant through difficult circumstances or whose passions have been sublimated to the call of duty need only wait, for eternity will dawn with fresh and unending opportunities to engage every good desire.
And for those of us who wished we had asked the questions and learned from another person’s interests, eternity offers a second opportunity to do so—to learn how they love to glorify God through the way he made them and through their expression of what he has entrusted to them.