Honest reflections and gentle challenges to the church community
Grief has a way of isolating us. For moms who have lost a child—whether through miscarriage, stillbirth, infant loss, or the death of an older child or adult son or daughter—the pain runs deep. It’s a sorrow that can’t be fully understood unless you’ve walked through it yourself. And for Christian moms, that sorrow is often met with confusing messages about faith, healing, and “moving on.”
The church should be one of the safest places for a grieving mom. A place where lament is welcomed, where broken hearts are held with compassion, and where sorrow is not rushed. While many churches offer well-meaning support, there’s often a gap between intention and impact.
Here are some honest reflections and gentle challenges for the church as we consider how to better love and walk with grieving moms.
See Her Pain—Even When It’s Silent
Many grieving moms feel invisible—especially those whose loss isn’t talked about publicly or happened long ago. This includes moms who have lost adult children. Just because their child was grown doesn’t mean the grief is any less intense. In fact, it can be more complicated—wrapped up in years of memories, expectations, and deep relational ties.
Challenge: Don’t assume grief is easier just because a child was older. Every child is still her child. Whether her child was five or fifty-five, that’s still the baby she carried, raised, loved. Acknowledge her loss with intentional words: “I know he was grown, but he’ll always be your son. I’m so sorry you’re walking through this.”
Offer Presence, Not Platitudes
Moms who grieve—at any stage—don’t need polished answers. They need presence. That includes moms whose teens or adult children passed due to things like suicide, overdose, illness, or tragic accidents. Their grief may also carry stigma or deep feelings of guilt.
Challenge: Resist the urge to explain or justify the loss. Say less, listen more. Sit with her in the questions, the doubt, the pain. Your presence will speak louder than any cliché ever could.
Include Her in the Church Family
Mother’s Day services. Baby dedications. Youth graduation celebrations. These moments, while joyful for many, can be heartbreaking for moms who are grieving. This is true whether her loss was recent or decades ago.
Challenge: Acknowledge grieving moms in church-wide celebrations. You can say something simple like, “Today we honor all mothers—including those who carry their children in heaven.” Offer prayer or reflection time for moms who have experienced the loss of a child at any age.
Don’t Rush the Timeline
Grief doesn’t expire. A mom may smile again, serve again, worship again—but her heart is forever marked. And often, those who lose older children are expected to “handle it better” because of age, maturity, or faith. But grief is not logical.
Challenge: Be the church that remembers. Reach out on birthdays, anniversaries, or “empty chair” moments. Let her know her child—whether a toddler, teen, or grown adult—is not forgotten.
Create Safe Spaces for Grieving Moms
There is a special kind of comfort that comes from being with others who understand. Grieving moms need spaces where they can be fully honest about their pain without fear of being spiritually corrected or judged.
Challenge: Consider creating or supporting grief ministries that are inclusive of all forms of child loss—including miscarriage, stillbirth, and the loss of older or adult children. Provide resources and communities that don’t draw lines around who is allowed to grieve deeply.
Preach a Theology That Makes Room for Suffering
If the only message from the pulpit is victory and healing, grieving moms will feel like their faith is failing. The truth is, grief is not evidence of weak faith—it’s evidence of deep love. And our God makes space for both.
Challenge: Normalize lament. Preach the Psalms. Talk about how Jesus wept—even knowing resurrection was coming. Remind your congregation that mourning has a place in the Christian life, and God meets us there.
In Closing
Grieving moms are everywhere—in your pews, in your Bible studies, behind the worship mic, serving in the nursery. Some are mourning the baby they never held. Some are mourning a child lost decades ago. Some are reeling from the sudden loss of a teenager or the slow decline of a beloved adult child.
Church, they don’t need quick fixes. They need community. They need compassion. And they need to know they’re not forgotten.
Let’s be the kind of church that holds space for sorrow, remembers the children who are no longer here, and walks with grieving moms for the long haul. That’s the heart of Jesus—and it’s what the Body of Christ is called to be.
