When Words Fail (The Power of Presence)

In my years of pastoral ministry, I’ve officiated more funerals than I can count. Each of them, in various ways and to differing degrees, weighed heavily on my heart and mind. Even at times when the service was a celebration of a long life shared with a legion of well-loved family and friends in faithful service to the Savior, my heart hurts for and with the family and my mind strains to find the right words to honor the memory of the departed and bring comfort to those who remain. It’s never easy, but with the help of stories of their experience and accomplishments and a generous dose of the Word of God, I normally head to the lectern with a fully formed script to carry me through. Rarely, if ever, have words completely failed me… Until last week.

Words, as important and necessary as they may be, aren’t always of first importance; presence is.

As I stood in the back of the funeral home, all I could think was, “I didn’t know they made coffins that small.” I had been asked to officiate the service for a five-week-old baby. After briefly meeting the father, mother, and a few family members, I sat silently in a chair at the back of the room and cried. I couldn’t stop looking at that tiny coffin. It was jarring to the soul to see the ultimate symbol of the end of life with one who had barely begun theirs lying inside. These words from the musical, Hamilton, came to mind. “There are moments that the words don’t reach; There is suffering too terrible to name.” Sometimes, there are no words.

Words, as important and necessary as they may be, aren’t always of first importance; presence is. There are situations when all of our words, as true and well-intentioned as they may be, ring hollow in hurting ears and do little to sooth a broken heart. Perhaps the best response is to acknowledge and affirm the reality and propriety of their suffering by joining them in it. At times, silently drawing close, shedding some tears, and being present with them says more and brings more comfort than any amount of eloquent words could communicate.

I’m reminded of the story of Job. When Job’s life was turned upside down, when he had lost all he owned and all of his children had tragically died, their immediate response was to comfort him, not with words, but with their presence. Job 2:11-13 reads,

“When Job’s three friends… heard about all the troubles that had come upon him, they set out from their homes and met together by agreement to go and sympathize with him and comfort him. When they saw him from a distance, they could hardly recognize him; they began to weep aloud, and they tore their robes and sprinkled dust on their heads. 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.”

There were no words for the sorrow they witnessed, so they simply joined Job in it. Interestingly, opening their mouths only served to increase the anguish Job was experiencing. Sitting in the dust and ash, sharing Job’s sorrow was the best course of action.

the Bible offers words of life, healing, and hope for those who are hurting, but those words carry more weight when we’ve taken the time to be present and share the pain of the moment.

I also think of the example of Jesus, Himself. In John 11, we read that upon seeing His friend, Mary, weeping at the tomb of her brother, Lazarus, “Jesus wept.” He didn’t correct her on her lack of faith. He didn’t point her to better days ahead. Jesus would eventually speak words of power and resurrection, but His immediate response was to join her in her sorrow.

The Bible tells us that “The Lord is close to the brokenhearted…” The Bible offers words of life, healing, and hope for those who are hurting, but those words carry more weight when we’ve taken the time to be present and share the pain of the moment. As we share people’s suffering we provide a physical manifestation of the truth of the gospel. Our demonstrations of compassion and love validate the words we eventually speak, pointing them to a God who understands and has experienced their sorrows and promises to join them in their suffering. Sometimes words fail us. In those moments, the power of our presence speaks volumes.