I enjoy learning about grammar. The way a language operates, how it employs various devices to accomplish the goal of conveying meaning, it is all very fascinating to me. In my world, that tends to be Greek and Hebrew (and especially Greek at the moment). Within the realm of verbs there is a category called a mood. The mood of a verb is, in a sense, the realtionship the verb has to reality. You can also think of it as the attitutde of the speaker concerning the verb. For instance, an indicative verb is a statement of fact "John went to the store". That is matter of factly what John did. But verbs (particularly the moods of verbs) do so much more than just state facts. They can be commands (known as imperatives) such as in the statement "John, go to the store!".
But there is one verbal mood with which I have found a lot of personal identification in my own life particularly as it has to do with grief – the subjunctive mood. The subjunctive mood (closely related to the optative mood) carries a sense of ought-ness, maybe-ness, and hopefully-ness. That is, it has to do with future yet-to-be's and typically conveys what the speaker thinks might happen or hopes will happen.
We all have hopes and expectations in life. Dreams and plans that we wish to see come to pass. Yet, what happens when they don't?
This is where grief comes in. Now, I'm aware that I'm using that word here – grief – and not, say, disappointment. Though there is an element of that here, that is not the full story. Many of you who are reading this may know this already but twelve years ago my father died. And with him died every hope and expectation of what the future could be like with him in my life. I am reminded of that as I hit various milestones in my own parenting and life in general. The question rings, "What would it be like if my father were here?". Or just contemplating what I envision my future could be like with him in it. And it is with that latter point that I find myself in subjunctive grief – greiving what could be in another reality where my father is still alive.
I find the lyrics of Mount Eerie's Love Without Possession illustrative to this end as it speaks of, "The always gathering clouds of yearning memory of all that we foresaw, laid out before us unlived". There is in me a grief of a future that will never come to pass. There is a subjunctive grief.
The Gospel Answer To Subjunctive Grief
Now, the purpose of acknowledging this is not to simply give a wider vocabulary to sadness (though that is helpful in itself, I think). There must be some answer to this situation. This is where the gospel comes in. The gospel, the organizing principle of my world and life view, lays particular claim on what grief looks like. It doesn't ignore grief but purposely positions hope in the mix. As Paul writes to the Thessalonians, "grieve not as others do who have no hope" (1 Thess 4:13). But what is the substance of that hope? It is the resurrection on the last day from which all believers "will always be with the Lord" (1 Thess 4:17). It is a God-centered hope. The hope of glory that awaits to which present day sufferings cannot compare (Rom 8:18). This is a sure thing to fix my hope on – that I will be forever with the Lord because of the person and work of Jesus Christ. He is my portion (Psalm 73:25-26). This sure future of glory is the gospel answer my grief over the unsure futures that now, I know, will never come to be. It is the gospel answer to the subjunctive grief. I grieve over the subjunctives, but not without hope.
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