The Dirt Path Sermon Podcast
The Dirt Path Sermon Podcast is where faith meets real life, offering down-to-earth sermons that dig deep into the Scriptures while connecting timeless biblical truths with the challenges of everyday living. Each episode invites you to walk the dirt paths of the Bible, discovering how ancient wisdom speaks to modern hearts. Whether you’re seeking inspiration, guidance, or a deeper understanding of God’s word, this podcast is your companion on the journey of faith. Tune in for honest, relatable messages that encourage you to grow in your walk with God.
The Dirt Path Sermon Podcast
Family Tragedy: Finding God's Promises in the Pain
What do you do when the story ends in sorrow? In this episode, we open a quiet and often overlooked passage in 1 Chronicles 7—a father named Ephraim mourns the loss of his sons. There’s no tidy resolution, no Hallmark ending. Just grief… and a God who doesn’t turn away from it.
Through personal story and biblical reflection, we explore how God meets us in our brokenness and how His promises still hold—even when healing feels far off. If you’re walking through pain, or loving someone who is, this message offers a gentle reminder: grief is not the end of the story.
Linkoln shares his story on why he started coming to Ravenna Church of the Nazarene and shares why you should consider doing the same.
Ravenna Church of the Nazarene
530 Main Street, Ravenna, KY 40472
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Consider visiting Ravenna Church of the Nazarene where Pastor Jason is the Senior Pastor.
Have a prayer need? Want to share something with Pastor Jason? Email rav.naz.ky@gmail.com
FAMILY TRAGEDY: FINDING GOD’S PROMISES IN THE PAIN
Memorial Day is about remembering the soldiers who never made it home. While many of us spend the weekend grilling hot dogs and enjoying time off, some families sit quietly with a folded flag on a bookshelf—grieving the sacrifice their loved one made.
Their loss was for our benefit, a truth we often don’t linger on. Why? Because grief is uncomfortable. It’s something we’re expected to process quickly, to push through, to “move on” so we can return to the joy of life.
But if grief is love that endures, how do you just move past it?
While Nicole and I were serving in our first ministry assignment in Colorado, we received some exciting news—Nicole was pregnant, and our daughter Jaedyn, who was almost two, was going to be a big sister. We told our family and our church right away. There was so much joy and celebration.
But then one night, we ordered chicken for dinner. What seemed like a small decision became a turning point. Nicole got very sick—unable to keep food or water down, spiking a 103-degree fever. I remember that third night so clearly. As we lay in bed, I saw something I still don’t know how to fully explain: a dark figure standing in our bedroom doorway. It wasn’t physically there, but the sense of its presence froze me in place. I just knew—something was terribly wrong.
The next morning, we found out Nicole had miscarried.
We were devastated. We had to tell our daughter. We had to tell our families. We had to tell our church. That Sunday was full of tears, and full of well-meaning but hollow words from people who didn’t know what to say.
The truth is, we’ve never really gotten over it. To this day, certain movies or TV shows are hard for Nicole to watch. The grief still lingers. And I don’t think that makes us any less faithful—it just makes us human.
So let me ask you: How do you hold onto faith when your heart is broken like that? How do you keep going when the story feels like it ends in tragedy?
That’s the tension we carry into today’s Scripture. In 1 Chronicles 7, we’re given a glimpse into the life of a man named Ephraim—a man whose grief is not hidden, not glossed over. His story helps us see where God is in the middle of tragedy… and what might come next after the tears.
1 Chronicles 7:20-23 (CEB)
20 Ephraim’s family: Shuthelah [SHOO-thuh-luh], Bered [BEAR-ed], Tahath [TAY-hath], his son Eleadah [El-ee-AY-duh], his Tahath, 21 his son Zabad [ZAY-bad], Shuthelah, and Ezer [EE-zer] and Elead. The men of Gath, who were born in the land, killed them when they came down to take their cattle.
22 Ephraim their father mourned many days, and his brothers came to comfort him. 23 Ephraim had sex with his wife, and she conceived and gave birth to a son. He named him Beriah [buh-RYE-uh], because misfortune had come to his house.
This is the word of God
For the people of God
Thanks be to God
Ephraim was one of the two sons of Joseph. Joseph, being the guy who wore a coat of many colors, was sold into slavery by his brothers, and ended up as the top governor in Egypt. That Joseph was Ephraim’s father.
The name Ephraim means “fruitful” in the land of affliction. God had given promises to Ephraim’s line—blessings of fruitfulness and leadership. But these verses in 1 Chronicles share a detail mentioned nowhere else about this family. These verses show us that even those with a legacy of blessing are not exempt from sorrow.
Verse 21 shares, “The men of Gath, who were born in the land killed them when they came down to take their cattle.” The text gives us an intense story but with few details. Someone was trying to steal cattle. Was it the men of Gath or Ephraim’s sons who were doing the raiding? Regardless, the men of Gath committed an act of deep violence against Ephraim’s sons, leaving them dead.
Whether these sons were the robbers or victims of a robbery gone wrong, is that a detail that matters to a parent’s heart? Verse 22 says, “Ephraim mourned many days.” The grief with the loss of his sons’ lives does not change on the unknown details of the story, only questions a grieving father would have. Ephraim’s grief is deep and public mourning.
The transition from verse 22 to verse 23 comes with no resolution to Ephraim’s grief. Verse 22 ends with “his brothers came to comfort him.” A biblical image of shared sorrow and community compassion, but Ephraim is still not over it in verse 23. Ephraim and his wife give birth to “Beriah,” but do you notice why this name is chosen? The name, Beriah, means “in trouble” or “in calamity”. This new child is named for Ephraim’s grief!
Now, the story does not put a neat little bow and heart-warming conclusion to Ephraim’s grief. No resolution is mentioned. But if we continue into verse 24 through the end of the chapter, this child who was named for grief, Beriah becomes a builder. There is something powerful about this, it is resurrection imagery-from death and sorrow, God brings life and purpose.
What does this teach us? Grief is not the end of the story. Even when there is no simple resolution, Hallmark channel ending to our grief, it is not the end of the story. God’s promises are still alive, even when pain has taken center stage.
God’s presence in our lives does not guarantee us a pain-free life. But He walks with us in the valley. Again, that does not take the pain away. However, since God is with us we can know our pain is not ignored by God, nor wasted by Him.
Ephraim’s heart was crushed by the death of his sons. God gifted Ephraim another son, but that gift was not to minimize and sweep away this father’s grief. It did not do that for Ephraim. This was not a lack of faith by Ephraim, his heart was completely broken. Beriah was God’s gift to Ephraim that said, “I am here. I see you. Your pain is not wasted and will not have the final say.” And God can do the same for you and me.
How? Name your grief honestly like Ephraim named Beriah. It is okay to carry both sorrow and new beginnings. Is that not the heart of the Christian message? Allow the community to surround you. Like Ephraim’s brothers, we are called to comfort those who mourn. Trust that God still has something to birth in you, even when misfortune has visited your house. Lean into the God who does not waste pain—your heartbreak may be the soil for someone else’s healing.
In the beginning, I shared with you the story of Nicole’s miscarriage. While the grief and pain associated with the experience have left marks on our hearts, God did not let that pain have the final say. Four months later, we discovered Nicole was expecting again. This was and is Ben.
Ben is our rainbow baby. “Rainbow baby” refers to God’s miracle of new life after profound loss. Jesus is the ultimate “rainbow baby”—the fulfillment of every longing, the hope that pain and death do not have the final word.
I am not here to minimize your pain today. This is not me telling you, “God wants you to just get over it.” For some things, there is no getting over it. What I am asking you to do is trust God is not finished with your story—even in your pain. Healing is not the absence of pain, it is trusting the pain is not the end.
In a moment, a song is going to play. As it plays, I invite you to bring your grief to God. Bring it to Him honestly, in all the brokenness that is attached. Come and believe that God still creates beauty and blessing, even from brokenness.
What feels like the end is not the end. God is with you in the ache, and His promises are still true. Will you let Him begin healing your heart today?
