When Happily Ever After Is Not the Ending
Once upon a time, in a world not so far away, there lived a people enchanted by fairy tales. They believed every story should end with “and they lived happily ever after.” Heroes were expected to conquer all, with a smile. Villains were those who couldn’t turn their frowns upside down.
But in this land of forced smiles, something was amiss. Ecclesiastes 3:1 whispered, “There’s a time to weep,” but few listened. They stuffed their sorrow, ashamed it couldn’t be “gotten over.” They silenced others’ lament, uncomfortable with its raw honesty.
Yet, in sacred texts, another story was told. Job, the righteous man, cursed the day he was born (Job 3). David, the beloved king, poured out his anguish (Ps. 22, 42). Even Jesus, the Savior, wept (John 11:35). Their faith wasn’t measured by happy endings, but by honest wrestling.
The truth is, faith isn’t a fairy godmother waving pain away. It’s showing up, fully present, trusting God in the midst of the mess. As Psalm 34:18 reminds us, “The Lord is close to the brokenhearted.” True strength isn’t suppressing tears, but shedding them honestly before the One who bottles each one (Ps. 56:8).
So perhaps it’s time for a new “happily ever after,” one that doesn’t deny suffering but invites God into it. One that celebrates authenticity over artificial smiles. One that finds hope, not in tidy endings, but in a Love that endures through every chapter (Rom. 8:38-39).
Many professionals (psychologists and pastors) are taught the five stages of grief model proposed by Dr. Elisabeth Kubler-Ross in her book On Death and Dying. Perhaps this is why folks give up on therapy/faith sometimes, because after learning about the stages they realize they aren’t “there yet” and thus, not “fixed.”
The understanding was/is that the griever is expected to move through a series of clearly delineated and defined stages: denial, anger, bargaining, depression, ultimately ending at “acceptance.” This suggests that there is a “right” and “wrong” way to grieve, with getting out of grief as the goal.
Interestingly enough, in her later years, Kubler-Ross wrote she regretted writing the stages the way that she did because people mistook them as being both linear and universal. They weren’t meant to tell people what to feel and when they should feel it. Instead, they were meant to normalize and validate what someone might experience in the insanity that is loss, death, and grief (Devine, 31).
They were meant to give comfort. Not create a cage.
In the end, perhaps true healing isn’t about reaching a destination called “okay,” but about finding sacred space for our whole story – tears, questions, and all. Like a book with dog-eared pages and coffee stains, our most authentic stories often bear the marks of being fully lived.
When we release the pressure to manufacture happy endings, we make room for something deeper: the profound peace of being fully known and still deeply loved. Not just by those around us, but by a God who chose to enter our story, tears and all.
So, let your story be messy. Let it be real. Let it be unfinished. Because in the spaces between “once upon a time” and “the end,” we find something far more precious than forced happiness – we find grace.
Reflection:
1. What “unhappy” emotions have you been pressured to hide?
2. How might redefining “happily ever after” change your story?
Prayer:
Gracious God,
Liberate us from the tyranny of false “happy endings.”
Give us courage to write our stories with authenticity,
Knowing You’re the Author who meets us in every chapter.
Weave our laments into a larger story of hope,
Anchored in Your unfailing love.
In Christ’s name,
Amen.