For many years, my journey in the “care of souls” has led me to walk alongside those who are grieving. This path has taken me from a ministry setting to managing a mental health department in a maximum security prison, which included Death Row, and eventually to a 23-year career as a licensed professional counselor in private practice. For five decades, I’ve been there for those grappling with deep and profound losses.
I’ve learned that grief takes many forms. It can be for a spouse, a child or a grandchild. I’ve also worked with people whose grief was for a beloved pet, and I never minimized their loss. After COVID-19 shut everything down, some people were isolated with only their pet for companionship and love. When there was no one else, their pet was there for them.
Michael Chancellor
I’ve also worked with countless veterans, each a profile in courage to me. In some ways, I see my dad, who served as a Marine in the South Pacific, in them. I found his Purple Hearts, but he was strangely quiet about his service, not out of shame but because of how horrific it was for a young man from the country.
With each veteran, I saw and heard their struggles, their wounds, their pains and the terrible choices thrust upon them. I remember emailing a client who had served with distinction in Afghanistan when the U.S. pulled out to see if he was all right.
I’ve also grieved deeply in my own life: For my father, who died at 57 when I was 32 and my sons were too young to remember him; for my mother, who died in 2020 at the age of 95; and for my younger brother, who passed away in 2024.
Grieving America
These days, I grieve for America. I grieve for the leaders we have chosen and allowed to hold offices and positions for which they are not worthy or capable.
I don’t hold a grudge against the federal government, never have. But over the years, I have worked with people who have benefited from the robust government we’ve had. I never have turned a blind eye to corruption, but I know part of living in a broken world is finding corruption and rooting it out. Corruption always has provided an equal opportunity for those who are corrupt, and I’ve seen it in clergy, businesses and everyday neighbors.
“I grieve that men and women who serve in the military at great sacrifice might have to stare into the dead eyes of a president who is unable to fathom the concept of what they have done or why.”
However, to my knowledge, our federal government never has given a platform and a treasury to the corrupt. Now, it has. That realization is what gives me grief.
I grieve over the encounters our head of state will have with real heroes on a regular basis. I grieve that men and women who serve in the military at great sacrifice might have to stare into the dead eyes of a president who is unable to fathom the concept of what they have done or why.
I grieve over the careless rounding up of immigrants, both legal and illegal, who — despite political talking points — are honest people wanting to keep their families safe and raise them with hope. I grieve the political talking points that need the props of helpless people swept up in actions that are more like a police state than a democracy.
I grieve over the blackmail this administration is using to steal money from the world of nations so the president can fill the inner void of his being. I grieve over our current refusal to be Good Samaritans to an impoverished world recovering from catastrophic floods, earthquakes, tsunamis and other natural disasters.
And I grieve the cowardice of “The Felon King’s” party, which has crippled our government, gutted it of the rule of law and shredded the Constitution and the Bill of Rights.
The grieving of faith
Over the years, I’ve found solace and comfort in my faith, but I’ve watched it be overtaken and stripped of its kindness and empathy. All the while, it’s gone off the rails, forgetting the very words of Jesus and certainly not living by them.
Many of our churches are empty cathedrals to a bygone era when the pulpit courageously rang with the words of Jesus and the challenges he left behind. My faith never was about power in this world; it was about humility, love, sacrifice and service. The reward for such would be the words of Jesus, “Well done, good and faithful servant!” Now, preachers and pastors have become groveling puppets and false prophets to an evil president who would be king. That kind of religion kills and destroys.
I grieve those losses — and the loss of a historically robust faith in America that is now gutted and refocused on a religion worshipping in this time-bound world, centered on gaining power and controlling the dominions of this world.
However, I grieve in hope. Why? Because in the end, I know God is going to win. And on that day, I shall see God’s glory, and Jesus will wipe away every tear and every sorrow, making all things new.
Michael Chancellor served 33 years as pastor of four Baptist churches in Texas, six years as a mental health manager in a maximum-security Texas prison before becoming a therapist in private practice in Round Rock, Texas. He now lives in Taylor, Texas.