It’s not covetousness.

It’s the ache of love.

Covetousness in Scripture is the desire to possess something that does not belong to you — a grasping, demanding spirit that says, “I must have this for myself,” even at the expense of God’s will or another person’s good.

But grief — the pain of losing someone, the longing for their presence, the sense that a part of your heart has been torn out — is not sinful desire. It is the cost of having loved deeply.

Think of Jesus:
When Lazarus died, Jesus wept. He didn’t rebuke Mary or Martha for longing for their brother. Their pain wasn’t covetousness — it was love expressing itself through grief.

Here’s how to tell the difference:

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1. Covetousness grasps. Love grieves.

• Covetousness says: “I must hold on. I cannot accept what God has allowed.”

• Love says: “I miss you because you mattered.”

When your desire is simply that the person were still here because they were woven into your soul, that is love.

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2. Covetousness demands control. Love surrenders pain.

• Covetousness tries to control outcomes — to keep what cannot be kept.

• Love brings the broken heart to God: “Lord, this hurts. Help me bear it.”

Your longing is not rebellion; it is human.

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3. Covetousness is self-centered. Love is relational.

If your heart hurts because you miss the person — their voice, their presence, their companionship — that is love expressing the depth of what was shared.

Covetousness would look like:

• refusing to let them go when God is calling them home

• wanting them for what they do for you, not for who they are
  But grief is none of these.

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4. Love hurts because love was real.

When someone becomes part of your everyday life, losing them feels like losing a limb.
You’re not wanting to own them.
You’re not trying to take something that wasn’t yours.
You’re simply feeling what humans were never originally created to experience: separation.

That pain is a sign of genuine affection, not sin.

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5. God understands this longing.

God Himself describes Israel with this same ache:

“How can I give you up?” (Hosea 11:8)

Not covetousness. Love.

The fact that it hurts means your heart worked the way God designed:
to bond, to cherish, to feel, to remember.

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So what you’re feeling is love — wounded, aching, longing love — not covetousness.

Healing from a loss like this is not quick, and it’s not linear — but it is possible. Here are the steps that truly help, spiritually and emotionally, grounded in Scripture and real human experience.

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1. Stop feeling guilty for hurting

You cannot heal from pain you feel guilty for having.

Grief is not a lack of faith.
Grief is not covetousness.
Grief is the heart saying, “Something precious is missing.”

Even Jesus wept.

Let the tears come. Every tear is a step toward restoration.

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2. Bring the raw pain to God — not the “edited” version

Pray honestly. Say what you truly feel:

• “Lord, I don’t know how to move forward.”

• “This hurts more than I can carry.”

• “Why does the absence feel like a wound?”

• “Hold me together because I’m falling apart.”

God heals what we reveal. David did this in the Psalms, and “God was close to the brokenhearted.”

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3. Name what you lost

Sometimes you’re not only grieving the person —
you’re grieving:

• shared routines

• the comfort of their presence

• the future you imagined

• parts of yourself that grew with them

Naming the losses prevents the pain from feeling vague and overwhelming. It becomes something you can bring to God piece by piece.

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4. Allow yourself to remember without trying to resurrect

Memories are healing when you honor them, not when you use them to punish yourself.

Healthy remembering:

• “I’m grateful for what we shared.”

• “This shaped me.”

Unhealthy remembering:

• “I can’t live without this person.”

• “I’ll never be whole again.”

You are still whole — just wounded. Wounds heal with time and God’s touch.

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5. Accept that healing isn’t forgetting

You don’t have to “move on.”
You have to move forward.

Healing is when you can:

• carry the memory without collapsing under it

• walk without the constant stabbing pain

• feel the love without the crushing sorrow

You don’t lose them by healing.
You carry them differently.

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6. Let God reshape the empty space

This is the part only God can do.

When someone was deeply woven into your life, their absence leaves a space.
You cannot fill that space with distraction or denial.
You let God slowly reshape it with:

• His presence

• new strength

• new connections

• a renewed sense of purpose

Healing is not returning to who you were before.
Healing is becoming someone deeper, softer, wiser.

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7. Let others help you carry what is too heavy

God often heals through:

• conversations

• presence

• community

• someone who listens

You don’t have to explain everything.
Just being around others can remind your heart it is still living.

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8. Give yourself permission to feel joy again

Sometimes the hardest part of healing is allowing happiness to return without feeling disloyal.

Joy does not replace the person.
Joy is a sign that the scar is forming.

You honor their memory by living well, not by living wounded.

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9. Healing is not instant — but it is certain

If you keep turning toward God rather than shutting down, healing will happen.

Not all at once.
Not in a straight line.
But day by day, the piercing ache becomes a gentle ache,
the sharp wound becomes a scar,
and the scar becomes a testimony of love, not loss.