When There are No Words

I spend a lot of time with people who are hurting. It comes with the job. And there are certain phrases and sentiments that I hear expressed a lot when somebody dies or life otherwise falls apart around someone.

“She’s in a better place.”

“This too shall pass.”

“God is in control.”

“It was just his time.”

“Everything happens for a reason.”

I’m sure some people put a lot of thought into these things before they open their mouths. Often, though, this sounds to me like a filler—you feel the need to say something—or an obligatory expression of faith, something that you’re “supposed” to say at times like these.

I was reminded of all this when I read Job 13:12 this week. Responding to the words of his three “comforters,” Job doesn’t mince words:

Your pronouncements are like maxims of dust;

Your responses—like lumps of clay.

Job was enduring tremendous suffering from unimaginable loss. After he put all of his anguish and hurt into words in chapter 3, one of his friends felt like he needed to say something and told Job many of the things you’re “supposed” to say at times like these. Job’s response led the other friends to chime in, and this back-and-forth leads to chapter after chapter of pronouncements like:

If your sons committed a sin against him,

He has dispatched them for their offense. (8:4)

Your kids had this coming. God acted appropriately.

Can you fathom the depths of God?

Can you reach the limit of the Almighty? (11:7)

God’s just too big for you to understand. You can’t see the full picture here!

But to the man whose life had become a black hole of loss, these words were “maxims of dust.” Their words couldn’t stand up to a gentle breeze, much less the full, grim reality of Job’s experiences and questions.

We’ve all said the wrong thing to somebody before. In 16:4, Job admits that “Even I would speak like you, if you were in my place.” We’ve all felt that pressure to find the right words when we reach the front of the line at a wake. And, realistically, no words will be enough when someone’s experienced terrible loss.

But the failure of Eliphaz, Bildad, and Zophar to offer Job anything but “lumps of clay” should instruct us.

The people we know and love who are suffering don’t need a theological explanation for what they’re going through—Where was God? How could God let this happen?—like these three tried to offer Job.

They probably don’t need trite proverbs about loss or sympathy card slogans—Our loss is heaven’s gain!

They certainly don’t need blame—You should have known this would happen the moment you quit bringing those kids to church.

And they don’t need someone who will argue with their outpouring of grief and pain.

What they need from you and me, I believe, are the simplest, truest words we can offer.

“I’m so sorry.”

“I love you.”

“I’m here for you.” (Backed up, in the weeks and months ahead, by “What do you need today?”)

At first, though, they may just need a quiet presence, a warm hug, listening ears, and sympathetic eyes. As Job told Zophar, “If only you would keep silent, yes, silent—for that would be wisdom for you!” (13:5) When you feel like there are no words for a situation, maybe you’re right. Maybe no words would be best.

Like one of my seminary professors once said, reflecting on people’s responses to her own battle with stage 4 cancer, “I hope everyone simmers down on the explanations for other people’s suffering, and just steps in with love.”

Listen to this week's devotional right here:

Everything You Need

Pecanland Mall, back in the day.

When I was a kid, a candy store opened at Pecanland Mall with rows and rows of those clear, acrylic bins where you swing open the lid, stick in the handy scoop, and shovel your favorite sweets into a plastic bag. Even for a kid whose favorite candy was kind of obscure, like mine, there was everything you wanted, any flavors, colors, or shapes, along the walls of that shop.

I think sometimes we can see life as sort of a candy shop, expecting to fill our little bags with anything and everything we could want: newer cars, nicer homes, better jobs, whatever hobbies, entertainment, food, or trips that catch our eyes. Sure, it may take hard work and some time, it may take some prayer, but we expect all of that to pay off in the end. If we really want something, there’s no reason we can’t have it or achieve it or experience it.

And there are verses and phrases in scripture that (when taken out of their contexts) can reinforce that expectation. After all, “I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me.” (Phil 4:13) And, “since we know he hears us when we make our requests, we also know that he will give us what we ask for.” (1 John 5:15)

And, getting back to Hebrews 13, doesn’t it say in verse 21 that God will “give you everything you need” for this life?

Yes and no.

Hebrews does assure us that God will provide “everything you need,” but then it adds the key words, “to do what he wants done.” (13:21, FNV) God has not equipped you for a life of satisfying every craving and scratching every item off the bucket list. God has equipped you for a life of service. Life isn’t a candy store. It’s a mission.

This all comes back to a fundamental truth of the Christian outlook on life: you are not your own, for you were bought with a price (1 Cor 6:19-20). (I heard an author say in an interview once that children are a constant reminder that our lives are not our own, and, boy, did I get what she meant!) Our lives are not given to us simply to seek our own (or our kids') pleasure, goals, and fulfillment. Our lives are for seeking the Kingdom (Matt 6:33), for loving the Lord and our neighbors. That’s God’s will for us. And God will give you everything you need to do what he wants done.

What have you been expecting from God? What leaves you feeling let down by God? Is it something the Lord promised or something you wanted?

How do think about all that you’ve been given in this life? Are your time, resources, skills, and passion for achieving what you want done? Or were they given to you to do what He wants done?

Listen to this week's devotional right here:

Guard Your Peace

Photo by Jackson Hendry on Unsplash

“Keep yourself free from the love of possessions and be at peace with what you have.” – Hebrews 13:5a

You see a commercial on TV or an ad on a website, and there it is: the thing you never knew you wanted, until now. It promptly and firmly embeds itself in the back of your mind (and those clever online ads keep showing it to you—especially if you clicked and took a closer look the first time), and you find yourself thinking about how you might use it, where you might keep it, when you could wear it, or how you’ll pay for it.

That’s a pretty familiar experience for me, and maybe it is for you, too. After all, we’re advertised to constantly, with slick, targeted pitches, fine-tuned by focus groups for one purpose: to reel you in. That’s just a part of life today.

But when I read Hebrews 13 recently, verse 5 taught me to see all of that in a new light. “Be at peace with what you have,” the author urges us.

Peace.

These advertisements and the desires that they cultivate within us disrupt your peace. Through them, the prospect of the next thing slams into your contentment like a rock hitting the surface of a pond, unsettling everything. The peaceful water is gone, replaced by the choppy ripples of covetousness.

If you have any kind of collecting hobby, try to keep up with the latest personal devices, buy books you could never hope to get around to, are always surprised at the amount of clothes in the closet that still have their tags, or never met a tool you couldn’t imagine a need for, you’ll understand this. You're never quite at peace with what you have. You're always daydreaming of or on the lookout for what’s next, the newest thing.

“Keep yourself free from the love of possessions and be at peace with what you have.”

This reminds me of two words of advice from Richard Foster’s classic guide to spiritual practices, Celebration of Discipline: The Path to Spiritual Growth. He ends his chapter on Simplicity with ten very practical principles, including:

1. Learn to enjoy things without owning them. “Many things in life,” he writes, “can be enjoyed without possessing them. Share things. Enjoy the beach without feeling you have to buy a piece of it. Enjoy public parks and libraries.” When the desire to own something new floods your mind and steals your peace, maybe the first question you need to ask is, “Could I use this or enjoy this without having to own it?”
2. Reject anything that’s producing an addiction in you. Foster has more in mind here than drug or alcohol addiction. He mentions coffee, Coca-Cola, chocolate, TV. “Any of the media that you find you cannot do without, get rid of… Refuse to be a slave to anything but God.” If a desire for more and more is disrupting your peace, you may to consider if you’ve been fueling that desire by repeatedly indulging it, and it’s produced a sort of addiction. Is it time to go cold turkey?

You’re going to be bombarded today by images and messages trying to whet your appetite for something else. I hope that we’ll all begin taking steps to guard the contentment and peace in our hearts and minds from the world’s assaults.

You can listen to this week's devotional right here!