[This article serves as the foreword to my new book, Finding Life After Death, a biblical survivor’s guide]
When Tim asked me to write a foreword for this book, my heart sank because I knew that I could not do it faithfully without confronting myself.
I have known him as a friend and a mentor and have tracked his journey with grief very closely. Recently, when a friend suddenly lost his wife to cancer, leaving him with three young children, I was grateful for Tim’s generosity and courage in sharing his story and processing his emotions in his first book, Grief and Grace, as we could use it as a guide to navigate the perilous waters of grief. This is one of the stories you will encounter in this book.
It is one thing to stand with someone in their grief as a consoling partner when tragedy strikes. It is another thing entirely to face your own grief.
About three years ago, a man I considered a mentor passed away following a short illness. His death revealed the pedestal I had placed him on, fuelled by my admiration and gratitude. I had learned so much from him and had looked forward to learning more. His death was a dagger to my heart because I had taken his continued presence in my life as a certainty, not really having contemplated something different. Like me, many mourned his passing and shared how they had been deeply impacted by his life. Shortly after his death, an investigator’s report revealed and concluded that my mentor had been guilty of abusing women and of living a life that contradicted the message that he taught and was well-known for. The painful testimonies of women dealt a blow to the image I had of this man and I was faced with the second death, that of my mentor as I had known him.
I then watched as the organisation I loved, composed of diverse communities worldwide, crumbled. I observed colleagues striving to reimagine their future, some, sadly, at the expense of integrity and godly character. I watched friendships that were seemingly forged by ‘heaven’ fall apart, and friends who were inseparable, frame each other in ways that made reconciliation a pipe dream. I watched as many were forced to relive their woundedness from their pasts as the themes in the revelations resembled their personal stories of abuse. I watched as we, known for being courageous in giving thoughtful answers to life’s tough questions, lost our collective voice and credibility to give a response to many who found new questions in the story.
During this time, I became involved in starting and leading a charity organisation that had, and continues to have, a profound impact on under-resourced communities. I got involved in leading peace-making and mediation efforts within corporations, schools, and sporting teams. I picked up qualifications in negotiations and dispute resolution, sports management and earned my master’s degree in international Affairs (cybersecurity) from the department of defence studies at one of world’s premier universities in the field.
One day, my wife held my hand and with all the love and gentleness in her eyes, looked at me and said “You have and are doing well with all your academic and professional accomplishments. But I think it’s also time that you hear that you are running away from your own grief. You are running at a fast pace doing really good things, but I think you are afraid of slowing down lest your broken heart catches up to you”. On that very day, I received a text from Tim, asking me to write a preface to his book. My heart sank.
From Tim’s previous book, I learned that without a proper guide, grief can become the uninvited guest who refuses to be ignored, outpaced, or willed away. She doesn’t heed the hints from one’s overly subscribed calendar nor does she regard the library of intellectual answers one can muster in a philosophy class. Instead, she colludes with time to lodge herself deep in the crevices of one’s soul, casting long, lingering shadows on the familiar — on the laughter that once danced effortlessly in the room, on the simple joy of morning coffee, on the comforting hug of a routine day. She imposes herself on the contours of the known, turning bright days grey, and in her wake, leaves a quiet dissonance that reverberates through the mundane, constantly reminding one of her unyielding presence. You can’t outrun grief.
As I read the manuscript, I received a fresh invitation to walk with God through a chapter in my life that I had wished many times would just be erased in time. I received fresh courage to ask my questions anew, questions that I had buried underneath layers of intellectual soil. I paused when Tim gently asked the reader to reflect on the major thoughts in every chapter. I prayed honest prayers and admitted that I needed God to help me mourn appropriately.
In the book, Tim writes, “Death is painful for those that remain. No matter how we try to explain it, rationalise it or theologise about it, death is painful. And the counsel the bible provides is that mourning is a righteous and necessary response to death.”
As you read the book, may you hear the voice that validates your anguish, connects you to meaning during a painful season and gives you a vision of God’s ‘life after death’.
*****to purchase Finding Life After Death, see https://linktr.ee/tim.tuckerbooks*****
Mahlatse Mashua, MD Roc Nation Sports International