“I
don’t know what to say.”
It
is a phrase whispered in hospital hallways, muttered over back fences, and
choked out in the quiet corners of funeral homes. Sometimes, it is a simple
admission of helplessness. Other times, it is a plea, a question directed at
the universe hoping that someone might provide the perfect, "magical"
words to mend a shattered heart. Often, it is voiced with a sharp edge of
anguish, the heavy weight of tragedy and illness stripping away our vocabulary
until only silence remains.
We
see this silence modeled in the ancient story of Job. In a single, devastating
season, Job suffered the loss of his children, the ruin of his livelihood, and
the physical torment of a relentless disease. When his friends—Eliphaz, Bildad,
and Zophar—arrived, they did not lead with a sermon or a list of platitudes.
Instead, they recognized the magnitude of the moment. Job 2:13 tells us: “Then
they sat on the ground with him for seven days and seven nights. No one said a
word to him, because they saw how great his suffering was.”
They
offered him the ministry of presence.
In
the face of overwhelming sorrow, the most precious gift we can offer is rarely
our advice, but our proximity. Long after the specific words of a sympathy card
have faded from memory, the image of the person who sat in the silence with us
remains. Our presence says what our tongues cannot: You are not alone.
As
we go about our week, let us look for those who are sitting in the
"dust" of their own lives. We don't need to be experts or orators; we
simply need to be there.
Have
a joy-filled day.- Randy L Wall
PRAYER
God, help us remember that we can be
your servants not just by what we say, but what we do. We pray for all
those who know sorrow or heartache this day. Give us the wisdom in the
presence of those who know great need to let our actions talk louder than
our words; through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.
