By Mike Smithgall | August 19, 2025 | Atheistville

Grief is one of the most raw human experiences. When tragedy strikes, especially something as unimaginable as the loss of a child, people often scramble for words. In religious communities, those words almost always circle back to faith: “He’s in a better place.” “God needed another angel.” “It’s part of God’s plan.”

But what if those words, meant to comfort, actually wound deeper? What if “Jesus loves them now” feels more like an insult than solace?

In a recent episode of The Unholy Roundtable, we tackled this very question. The conversation began with a viral image that circulated after the floods in Texas at Camp Mystic—a Christian summer camp where dozens of children died. The image, generated by AI, showed Jesus standing in water, holding children in Camp Mystic t-shirts as others ran toward him. Many believers shared it online as a way of saying, “Look, the children are safe now with Jesus.”

The problem is, not everyone saw comfort in that picture.

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A Mother’s Perspective: “Your Arms Weren’t Enough”

One woman, herself a devout Christian who lost a young child in an accident, explained why these images hurt so much.

“When a grieving parent hears over and over again, ‘Your child is in a better place,’ what it says to them is that you are not enough. Your arms were not enough. Your love, your nurturing, your support, your protection—it wasn’t enough.”

She recalled how, after her son Garrett drowned, hundreds of people prayed fervently for a miracle. None came. Yet instead of space to grieve, she was met with a steady stream of religious reassurances. To her, the subtext was brutal: Your child is better off without you.

Even more than a decade later, she said, the pain of those words hasn’t faded. Faith didn’t dull the grief. Platitudes didn’t heal.

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Why Platitudes Cut Deep

Around the table, several participants echoed her frustration.

Annette Talanian-Brandt, a panelist on the show, summarized it bluntly: “Well-intentioned people can still say harmful things.”

That’s the paradox. Religious communities often turn to stock phrases because they don’t know what else to say. They want to do something. They want to feel like they’ve offered support. But these phrases don’t center the grieving person’s reality, they deflect it.

Annette goes on to say her day job is teaching sexual violence prevention. In that context, telling a survivor “why don’t you just leave?” ignores the complexity of their reality and adds shame to their pain. The same is true here: telling a grieving parent “your child is in a better place” dismisses their lived anguish.

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Theology Doesn’t Save the Day

Beyond the harm of platitudes lies a deeper issue: the theology behind them.

Scott Broughton pushed the discussion further, pointing out that in scripture Jesus doesn’t always come across as compassionate. When a Gentile woman begged him to heal her child, his initial reply was to compare giving her help to throwing children’s food to dogs.

“If you’re still following this Jesus,” Scott argued, “you have to reckon with the fact that this is what he actually said.”

He also noted the biblical phrase, “Let the dead bury their dead.” Taken literally, it implies grief itself is unnecessary or even disobedient. For someone already mourning, hearing “your child is in a better place” echoes that same message: your grief isn’t valid, and your pain is secondary.

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The Children Left Behind

The conversation also turned to the siblings who survive.

Imagine being a child who just lost their brother or sister. People around you insist, “Your sibling is with Jesus in a better place.” What does that imply for you?

Larry Warren asked the haunting question: “Why can’t I go to the better place too? Why am I stuck here if heaven is so wonderful?”

Instead of offering comfort, religious clichés can plant seeds of confusion and despair in surviving children. If the “better place” is elsewhere, this world must be worse by comparison. That’s a heavy, damaging message for a young mind already weighed down by loss.

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The Logical Problem of God’s “Plan”

Beyond the personal impact, the roundtable wrestled with the bigger logical problem: Why would an all-powerful God design a world where tragedy is necessary at all?

As Mike Gonzalez put it:

“If heaven is the end goal, why put us here to suffer first? Why make children endure drowning in a collapsing structure before ‘rewarding’ them? What kind of God says, ‘I love you, but first you have to go through that’?”

It’s a question that exposes the cracks in the theological narrative. The idea that suffering is a prerequisite to paradise doesn’t comfort, it indicts the very system it’s meant to defend.

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Who Really Feels Better?

In the end, several participants agreed that platitudes like “thoughts and prayers” serve one main purpose: making the speaker feel better.

It’s not really about the grieving parent. It’s about self-soothing, signaling faith to the community, and feeling like you’ve “done something.”

Scott Broughton called it out as virtue signaling.

Larry Warren compared it to scratching an itch, the believer leaves feeling lighter, while the mourner feels unseen.

Christopher Hitchens once said, “Religion poisons everything.” This roundtable revealed how even well-meaning expressions of faith can do exactly that in the most vulnerable moments of life.

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What to Say Instead

If religious platitudes hurt more than they help, what’s left? The answer is simple but not easy: presence.

• Say less. Listen more. A grieving parent doesn’t need a theological explanation—they need space to mourn.
• Acknowledge the pain. Instead of “he’s in a better place,” say, “I can’t imagine how much this hurts. I’m here with you.”
• Offer practical help. Cook a meal, sit in silence, take on a task. Concrete support matters more than abstract promises.
• Respect the individuality of grief. Don’t assume what comfort looks like. Let the bereaved define it.

Annette pointed out that even good intentions can cause harm. The opposite is also true, when we choose our words carefully, or choose silence, we can bring real comfort.

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Conclusion: Beyond Platitudes

Tragedy strips life down to its essentials. In those moments, the easy phrases of religion often fail, or worse, they wound. If comfort is the goal, then honesty, presence, and compassion do far more than theology ever can.

The Camp Mystic image was meant to console. Instead, it exposed the hollowness of faith’s stock answers. Real comfort isn’t in saying “Jesus has them now.” Real comfort is sitting beside someone in their darkest moment and letting them know they’re not alone.

👉 Watch the full Unholy Roundtable episode here: When “They’re in a Better Place” Hurts More Than It Helps
👉 Listen to the podcast version here: Why “God’s Plan” Can Wound the Bereaved More Than It Heals

If this conversation resonated with you, subscribe to Atheistville on YouTube or your favorite podcast app. Share it with a friend who needs to hear that they’re not alone in questioning the easy answers.

Because in the end, reason and compassion go a lot further than platitudes.

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