Honoring Memory: A Response to July 13th

This is part of my year-long series exploring human-centered alternatives to the spiritual promises in Oswald Chambers’ classic devotional My Utmost for His Highest. Today’s entry, “The Price of Vision”, promises that God deliberately removes human heroes and relationships (our “King Uzziahs”) so he can take his rightful place in believers’ lives, claiming that the ability to “see God” depends on character purification through loss.

Here’s what seeking divine vision through accepting loss as purification actually delivered:


“God had to remove your King Uzziah so he could take his rightful place in your life,” her grief counselor at church explained with spiritual certainty. “Your ability to see the Lord depends on your character. This loss is God’s way of purifying you so that nothing else matters except him.”

Jessica had lost her mentor and close friend Dr. Patricia in a car accident. The grief felt like drowning in concrete, but spiritual guidance promised that accepting this loss as divine character-building would lead to greater spiritual vision and divine revelation.

Jessica tried desperately to embrace this framework for her devastating grief. Instead of allowing herself to fully mourn Dr. Patricia’s death, she searched for signs that God was revealing himself through the loss. She forced herself to see the tragedy as divine purification rather than random accident that had taken someone precious.

For months, Jessica suppressed her anger and sorrow, believing these emotions revealed inadequate spiritual character. She told herself that grieving too deeply meant she’d made Dr. Patricia an idol. The promised divine vision would come once she learned to seek “none but God” through accepting this spiritual purification process.

But the spiritual vision was a grief-destroying lie.

Instead of seeing God more clearly through the loss, Jessica became increasingly depressed and spiritually numb. The attempt to view her friend’s death as divine character-building felt like betrayal of their relationship and dismissal of genuine grief. No divine revelation emerged from trying to minimize her human attachments.

Meanwhile, Jessica’s coworker Mark approached his own loss with zero expectation of divine vision through character purification. When his father died unexpectedly, Mark didn’t interpret the death as God removing a human hero but as natural tragedy requiring human support and professional help.

Mark sought grief counseling, joined a bereavement support group, allowed himself to feel the full impact of losing someone irreplaceable. His healing process involved honoring his father’s memory while rebuilding life around the permanent absence.

Where was the divine vision that was supposed to come through accepting loss as God’s purification? Where was the spiritual character-building that would make “none but God” important?

When Jessica finally abandoned the spiritual interpretation of her loss and sought actual grief counseling, she learned that healthy mourning honors rather than minimizes important relationships. The vision that actually helped wasn’t seeing God through character purification but seeing her grief as natural response to losing someone deeply loved.

Jessica’s breakthrough came through memorializing Dr. Patricia’s mentorship by establishing a scholarship fund for women in medicine. The meaning she found didn’t require God removing human heroes but came through celebrating and continuing Dr. Patricia’s impact on others’ lives.

The silence where divine revelation was supposed to emerge through loss revealed the truth: there was no spiritual vision waiting behind grief. Only human love that deserved honor and human grief that required support, not spiritual interpretation.


Reflection Question: When has honoring and continuing someone’s legacy been more healing than viewing their loss as divine character-building?


This story is part of my upcoming book “The Undevoted: Daily Departures from Divine Dependence,” which offers 365 human-centered alternatives to the spiritual certainties in Chambers’ devotional. Each day explores how reason, community, and human resilience can address life’s challenges without requiring divine intervention.

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Author: Richard L. Fricks

Writer. Observer. Builder. I write from a life shaped by attention, simplicity, and living without a script—through reflective essays, long-form inquiry, and fiction rooted in ordinary lives. I live in rural Alabama, where writing, walking, and building small, intentional spaces are part of the same practice.

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