Matthew F. Leighty
Executive Director
The summer of 2002 will always live in my memory as a season braided with both joy and sorrow. Kelli and I were married on July 5, one of the happiest days of my life. Just weeks later, on July 29, my grandmother, Ellen Hendrickson, went to be with the Lord. We traveled to her funeral, where we remembered my dear grandmother, mourned her passing, and celebrated her life in Christ.
Right after we returned home, our phone rang during the night, startling me from sleep. It was my dad. “Matthew, it’s your dad. Your grandma has died,” he said. Still in that fog of waking up, I answered, “I know, Grandma Hendrickson died. We just got back from her funeral.” He paused, then gently said, “No, Grandma Leighty died.” It was August 7, just days after we had buried Grandma Hendrickson.
I was stunned. Grandma Hendrickson had lived a long life and hadn’t been well for some time, but Grandma Leighty’s passing came suddenly, shortly after she turned 70. Later we learned she had declined surgery for a treatable heart condition. Whether it was stubbornness or a deep peace with God’s timing (I think it was some of both) we only discovered her decision after she was gone.
I still vividly remember Grandma Leighty’s funeral and the sheer depth of grief that washed over our family. In many ways, I have not felt that same magnitude of communal sorrow since, not even years later when my own father entered his eternal rest.
Double loss has a way of hollowing the heart and quieting a home. The grief would deepen further when my Grandpa Leighty followed his beloved wife home in October of that same year. By year’s end, all four of my grandparents had entered their eternal rest, leaving a silence that would echo through every family gathering.
In the middle of such aching silence, God speaks. Scripture assures us through the psalmist: “Father of the fatherless and protector of widows is God in his holy habitation” (Psalm 68:5 ESV). That is not a sentimental line; it is a promise.
When our family tables have an empty chair, and our hearts carry a new name: widow, widower, grandchild without a grandparent— God is close. He draws near through His Word and Sacraments to protect, to uphold, and to give a peace the world cannot manufacture.
Still, in the valleys of grief, our prayers can turn into questions: Why, God? Why this? Why now? Scripture never scolds us for honest lament. The Bible gives us the language of tears and the courage to bring our “Why?” directly to the One who can bear it. And then, right in the thick of our questions, Jesus speaks a word that no one else can: “Peace I leave with you; my peace I give to you. Not as the world gives do I give to you. Let not your hearts be troubled, neither let them be afraid” (John 14:27 ESV).
Christ’s peace is not the denial of loss; it’s the presence of the Lord in loss. It does not erase the empty seat, but it fills the empty heart with Himself: crucified, risen, and reigning. In Him, fear does not have the final say. In Christ, grief is real, but hope is greater, a hope not based on our strength or faith, but on Christ’s finished work for us.
It’s in moments like these that we need more than our own strength; we need the wisdom of those who’ve walked this path before us.
This month, we want to walk alongside you in that peace. Through our new Grief Ministry, we share resources to support you during the first year after a loss. One of those resources is the Rev. Michael Newman’s book, “Getting Through Grief.” In its pages, readers discover eight biblical gifts for living with loss, gifts that remind us how God anchors our hearts in His promises, renews our strength, and offers hope in Christ even when the path feels dark.
As a child, a picture of an eagle hung on my bedroom wall, and beneath it were the words that still steady me: “They who wait for the LORD shall renew their strength; they shall mount up with wings like eagles” (Isaiah 40:31 ESV). My prayer is that these words—and the resources we share through Worship Anew—will lift you up and remind you that you are never alone. God is with you, and His peace will guard your heart and mind in Christ Jesus.
As we journey through this theme of grief in the pages of this magazine, it is my prayer that you may be encouraged that what we provide will help you in your own times of deep sorrow and as you support those around you facing similar struggles. Know that through it all, you are not alone. You are surrounded by those within our family of believers, this vital ministry at Worship Anew, and most of all, our loving Lord and Savior who carries us in His arms and brings us His everlasting peace.