Written by Angela Jin

“해리, 엄마없이 잘할 수 있지?”

(You’ll be okay without me, right?)

And just like that she was gone.

Growing up from childhood into adulthood, I remember listening to my mom practice singing choir songs for church throughout the week. I remember her working 14-16 hour shifts every day and coming home to cook and clean the house with a smile on her face. Every Saturday night she would stay up throughout the night cooking to feed the church lunch the next day. If she wasn’t practicing for church choir, she was singing worship songs at home, in the car, and even at work.

Regardless of familial stress, financial stress, and relational stress, my mom mostly had a smile on her face and never stopped singing. In August 2018, my mom was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer. I remember receiving her phone call while she was on her way to the ER; I was in denial. “Surely it’ll be mild. Surely she’ll be able to receive treatment and recover soon,” I thought. My life seemingly began to unravel towards the end of 2018. I watched my mom’s health slowly deteriorate despite treatment, experienced severely ruptured relationships in my community that seemed beyond repair, all the while I was preparing for major milestones in my doctoral program.

Around this time, I had heard the song “Goodness of God” by a Christian band and declared it over the next year. I had so much hope for 2019: my mom would be healed, my community would reconcile, and I would continue to succeed and move forward in the graduate program. None of those things happened. Much of 2019 was spent in and out of the hospital, flying out to New York every 1-2 weeks in the midst of full-time graduate studies and juggling two part-time positions. My mother passed in June, my community never reconciled, and I discontinued the doctoral program in September. My mother had a total of 3 major surgical procedures between February and March. Due to multiple bacterial infections post-surgery, the first of which was sepsis, her body was unable to recover. She was declared to be “actively dying” by the beginning of May 2019 and passed on June 3, 2019.

I was enraged, distraught, confused, and more than anything I felt utterly betrayed and abandoned by God. “Goodness of God” continued to randomly play when I would shuffle songs or choose a random playlist. The majority of the time I skipped the song, demanding God how the lyrics of the song could be true. How could I possibly say “God is good” when the year was consumed by unimaginable grief, pain, and agony? Everything I thought I knew about God began to unravel. I found that the deeper I went in demanding question after question, the more clarity I received. The following reflections came over the course of a few years:

1) God is good because God is. The character of God doesn’t change in light of our circumstances. When I told God that I don’t believe in God’s goodness, God’s response was to come closer. Words cannot fully articulate what I felt; the Spirit just came close, and I felt God nearer to me during that season than any other season of my life. It was even frustrating. It’d be so much easier if I felt nothing, if God didn’t come. But God did.

2) I am held by God’s grace; the ground I stand on is grace. The very essence of life is held together by the Creator – we have the gift of simply being.

3) It’s about the process. Perhaps my desire for conclusion to any question or doubt is more for my own security than it is for my own good. The truth is, I still don’t know why my mom passed away when so many contended for a miracle. Perhaps I don’t have to know. Amidst the unknown and uncertainty, I know that I am held and not alone in my process.

During my dark night of the soul, what the Spirit confirmed and affirmed was the freedom to feel every emotion and to dare to be honest before the presence of God. God cared more for my honesty than my performance. It wasn’t about having the right theology, praying the right prayers, or searching for ways to answer the “why” to the horrific events from 2019. To God, it wasn’t about having the “right” faith - it was simply about being honest. There was a quiet but intentional presence. God did not demand respect nor did God shame me for questioning or doubting God. As Jesus sat with me, I began to release all my anger and hurt. Afterwards, a deep sadness settled in. Even then, He just sat with me. I have and continue to grieve the absence of my mother – that will never change. My therapist once said grief lasts for as long as the person is gone, and that continues to hold true in my life. But I know that God remains God even in the tension. I found healing when I realized that I didn’t have to put my pain and sadness aside to rejoice in God. I found healing when I realized that whether I’m angry or grateful towards God, God loves me the same. I have found freedom in being able to own the reality of my circumstances and hope for the things yet unseen, for we are already, not yet. Living in tension doesn’t equate to misery and suffering nor does it equate to unspeakable joy – it’s both/and. Living in a binary feels easy because it seems simple, but the reality of human life is not. My mother is gone – nothing will ever change that. And, I know that God is with me in my grief of missing her, and God is with me in my joy of carrying her legacy of worship, faithfulness, and resilience.

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