How Tragic Loss Helped Me Find My Calling
On a quiet Sunday evening in Savannah, Georgia, several years ago after a busy and exciting New Year’s Day celebration, I had no idea how drastically things were about to change. That morning I had been introduced to the congregation at my church as the new small groups director. But I was about to experience the most unimaginable thing
a mother could face.
My beloved son, David, a vibrant young man of 27, had been brutally murdered. This devastating event left me shattered and questioning everything I believed.
Growing up in the home of a Baptist pastor, I always knew I had a calling to preach, lead, and pastor God’s people. But I faced numerous obstacles as many Baptist pastors, including my father, believed that women were not authorized by God to take up such roles. Yet my resolve remained strong as I yearned to fulfill my calling.
Life moved on, and I found myself married to Rahman Grimes, a United States Navy serviceman. Balancing the responsibilities of being a Navy wife, motherhood, and pursuing my nursing career, I always sensed that something was missing. I poured my “pastoring” energy into nursing, treating it as my ministry. But the longing for a more pastoral role persisted.
The turning point in my life came on January 1, 2017. Amid the excitement and joy of being announced in my new role in my congregation, I received the devastating phone call—David had been trying to help a young woman who needed to get away from a dangerous situation at home. But his efforts to help put him in the middle of her difficult circumstances, and she later assisted her boyfriend who attacked and killed him.
I had taught David to care for others, and now his life was cut short by the very people he was trying to help. Unbearable anguish and grief engulfed me.
For three months, I found myself in a state of numbness. Rahman and I were seeing a grief counselor, but I couldn’t convince our daughter, Courtney, to join us.
Grief-stricken and lacking the strength to pray for myself, I withdrew from the world and questioned my faith. I lived more than four hours away from my biological sisters and I felt as if I was all alone. After seeing David lying lifeless on the table in the ER, I could not go back to work in the hospital—the setting that had been a place of solace now was nothing but misery. Even though it was not the hospital where he died, I noticed that when I entered, my heart would race and my productivity would suffer. As a result, I decided to take an extended leave.
Even in my darkest moments, the Lord had me in his hands. God sent three women into my life—Tonya, Penne, and Lisa. They made themselves available to me day or night. They prayed for me at a time when I could not find the words or the inspiration to do it myself—until one morning in March when I finally garnered the strength to pray.
I told the Lord, “I love you and I will never stop serving you. No one else has the Word of life but you. I will pray and read your Word; however, I will do it from home. I will not go out into this broken world again. Those people—your people—took my son’s life. I will not talk about you to them. I will not try to justify how a loving God would allow something like this to happen to someone who loves him. I am done.” I made a declaration of resignation to the God who breathes purpose into us that I would no longer pursue his will.
But the God of mercy and grace intervened.
Penne had invited me to lunch at her house with the hope that a change of scenery would refresh me. Previously she had told me about her friend Donna who had experienced the tragic death of her own son to violence, and Penne thought we should talk. But I had been avoiding that conversation like the plague. Revisiting my pain with a complete stranger, even if we shared similar stories, was not something I had in mind.
When I arrived at Penne’s, Donna was there, and I felt ambushed. Upon our introduction, she asked a bold, intrusive question: “You told God something this morning. What was it?” I was floored. In my mind I questioned how dare she be so invasive, but in my spirit I felt compelled to answer her. When I mustered up the ability to speak, I told her what I had prayed not two hours earlier. Against my initial resistance, Donna prayed with me, and through that prayer, a glimmer of hope began to emerge.
After four hours of prayer, we “came to ourselves.” Donna made another invasive request, asking, “The Lord spoke something to you. What was it?” She put her cell phone camera in my face and continued, “We are going to record this because you will need to hear this again.”
I began to weep. I told Donna and Penne what the Lord had revealed to me in prayer. “He told me that my calling to pastor did not die with David. David knew the Lord, but there are other 27-year-olds who do not. I have been called to minister to them and share the gospel with them.”
In the depths of my despair, I received a divine revelation. God spoke to me, assuring me that my calling was still alive. He reminded me that other lost souls needed to hear the gospel. There was still purpose despite the pain.
Donna urged me to go tell my pastor. So I went to him and offered to serve in any capacity that was needed.
With love and acceptance, I received the invitation to become a “super volunteer” within my church community. Filling in the gaps and devoting myself wholeheartedly to the ministry, I played a vital role in facilitating the church’s growth. We titled my role “church coordinator.” Through my service, I found healing and a renewed sense of purpose. I was able to gain an understanding of church planting and grasp the enormity of the call. A foundation was established and as Paul admonished Timothy, I was able to “fan into flames the gift of God” (2 Timothy 1:6).
Finally, the time came for me to embark on a new journey, and I made the bold decision to take action. Guided by my faith, I planted Radiant Church Savannah, a Covenant congregation. Planting a church has come with challenges, but I know what God has called me to do.
I am driven by my unwavering faith and the memory of my beloved son. I see the birth of Radiant Church Savannah as a testament to the restorative power of God and his ability to lead us into our true purpose, even in the face of unimaginable grief.
Today, Radiant Church Savannah stands as a beacon of hope, a testament to God’s steadfast love, and a community of believers dedicated to spreading the message of love and healing to the world. Through my journey from grief to purpose, I discovered that significance surpasses worldly success. My son’s life and tragic death became a catalyst for my own transformation.
Years ago, I was told that I would not be able to have children, so David’s life itself was a source of hope. His very existence had proven that my prayers and faith in God were well placed. His death, however, snapped me out of mundane living. Through grief I discovered that I had been neglecting the ultimate purpose that God created in me to fulfill. Grieving David’s death made me reflect on my own life and to focus on significance, not success. I was able to see more clearly through the tears of pain than I ever did through the wide-open eyes of the daily grind for worldly acknowledgment.
In the end, these heart-wrenching events have been a testament to me of the enduring power of faith and the healing that can emerge from even the harshest of trials. We know God feels our infirmities, and his image, the imago Dei, shines through the toughest situations and brings us victory over pain.
