By Joel Engle

There is no doubt that 2010 was a year of tribulation for my family and me. Dealing with the loss of my best friend and then my father-in-law was a very tough time.

Honestly, the suddenness of my best friend Thomas' death nearly derailed me from ministry.

Grief is an interesting process. It is much like being caught up in a tornado where you are spun in so many directions and consumed in the darkness of confusion. Then the tornado dies and you wind up in the land of Oz, except there are no beautiful colors or happy songs. You wonder if you will ever find your way back home.

Yet, for a pastor, we must pastor through the pain. Many men of God in the past have had to do so. Charles Spurgeon, George Mueller and John Calvin all had to carry on the ministry of the Word while being cloaked in the shroud of sorrow.

This year was my turn.

I chose to not try to hide it and talked about it when I could. I can truly understand what Paul meant when he said, "...therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ's power may rest on me..."

I have been and still am very weak. Thomas' death still stings like it just happened yesterday. I saw a picture of him that I hadn't seen, and I still found it difficult to believe that I will never see him again in this lifetime.

These are not just passing ideas but emotions that stick with you day in and day out as you minister to broken and hurting people who desperately need answers. I feel that I am but a millimeter ahead of them in learning how to apply the hope, mercy, power and peace of Christ in me. It's hard, but I must pastor through the pain.

I deactivated my Facebook over Thanksgiving so I didn't have to answer or respond to anyone about "how I was doing" a year after this ordeal. I didn't want to talk about something that no one can really understand but a few select people in my life. It is so intensely personal that speaking about it to even close friends is nearly impossible. I thank God for my wife, Dr. Kahle (my counselor), and one or two others that I have confided in about the heartache that will not go away. They help me pastor through the pain.

Life stops for no one. You keep moving on even when it seems so unjust to do so. How can I move on when my best friend is gone and his family is hurting so badly? We are all swept along by the force of the current of existence whether we like it or not. I move forward with a colossal hole in my heart knowing that this trauma cannot be fixed in this lifetime. That is the reality. There is no fixing this.

Many days, I feel like I am "duct taped" together by the grace of God in this earthsuit that could fall apart at any minutes. Yet until the day I move from this life to the next, I will have to pastor through the pain.

So how do you minister to people when your heart is broken?

1. You can't. Only Christ living His life through you can. This reality has been branded into my heart with a hot iron. I have had some bad moments of anger, depression, anxiety and grief that I have displaced on others this year. It has taught me that only Christ can medicate pain that just won't go away.

2. You fight. I refuse to let this sorrow destroy my family, ministry, or my joy in Christ. I refuse to be swallowed up in self-pity or the "what-if's." The conundrum of trying to accept what is fair is inscrutable at best.

3. You rest. I don't do "rest" very well. I am filled with vision, fire and enthusiasm. But those three things are not enough to overcome the heartache. I have had to "go dark" a few times in order to survive. My wife has been incredibly understanding in this area. Without her love and understanding, I don't know if I could have continued my pastoral duties as I have been able to do this year.

4. You pray. I have never learned how to pray as I have the last few months. I never really appreciated the hymn "What a Friend We Have In Jesus" until these last few months. I have been able to pour out my hurt, bewilderment, fear, anger, and emotional paralysis to Him in ways that I never have before.

5. You look. This world is not my home. In an age of pragmatism, we are always looking for some formula to calculate so we can get fast results in just "7 days." I know as long as I am here on earth I will walk with a more noticeable limp because Thomas is gone. I know that I will see him again in heaven.

Death is a part of life. Loss is inevitable. It's coming, and when it does come, we will keep moving. We must. There is no choice in this matter if we are to retain our sanity.

Each day, I sit with my Heavenly Father and cry out to Him. Some days I do it for a few minutes, other days for a few hours. I am in a war and I must keep advancing forward. We have no room to retreat in this battle. Through Christ's life and strength, I will continue to pastor through the pain by His grace.

Joel Engle is Lead Pastor of The Exchange and the author of The Father I Never Had.