When Giants Fall: Grieving the Loss of a Leader

Tammy Isaac DMin
Apr 16
2 min read

by: Rev. Dr. Tammy Isaac

There’s a grief we don’t talk about enough. A grief that often goes unnamed because it isn’t always personal in the traditional sense — but it is deeply felt. It’s the grief of losing a leader.

Whether it’s a beloved pastor, a spiritual mentor, a teacher, or a public figure who shaped your values and voice, losing someone in a leadership role can shake the very ground beneath you.

Why It Hurts So Deeply

Leaders don’t just give instructions. They hold space. They cover. They intercede. They push you to become who God called you to be — even when you were running from it.

So when they leave — by death, retirement, transition, or even controversy — their absence is not just noticed. It’s felt. The grief is layered. It’s personal. It’s communal. Sometimes it’s even public.

The Personal Layer

Maybe you had a close relationship with them. They spoke directly into your life, affirmed your calling, challenged you, or walked you through the darkest season of your life. Now their voice is gone… and you feel the silence in your soul.

The Communal Layer

Perhaps this leader shepherded your entire church or ministry. Now the whole community is grieving together, navigating change while carrying sorrow that words can’t fully express.

The Public Layer

And sometimes, we grieve leaders we never met — public figures who shaped our worldview, gave us language for our faith, or made us feel seen in ways others didn’t. Their death can feel oddly intimate, because they unknowingly became a part of who you are.

You Have Permission to Grieve

Let me say this plainly: You don’t need to justify your grief. You don’t need to be strong for everybody else. You can cry. You can ask questions. You can feel the ache — and still be rooted in faith.

Grieving a leader doesn’t mean you’ve lost direction. It means you’re honoring the weight of their presence in your life.

Jesus wept — and He knew resurrection was coming. Grief is not weakness. It is evidence of deep connection.

Carrying the Torch

So how do we move forward? We don’t rush past the pain. We sit with it. We honor it. And then… we carry the torch.

We ask:

What did they teach me?
What did I see modeled in their life that I can now embody?
What was their prayer for me — and how can I walk it out?

Grief becomes a bridge — not a stopping point. It becomes the soil for growth, for purpose, and for legacy. Because when giants fall… the seeds they planted rise.

This week, I invite you to reflect: