When the Words Won’t Come
In the past six months, I’ve watched two of our former college students battle cancer, a friend lose her house to a flood, another friend lose a child, and another friend lose her husband. I say I’ve watched because I haven’t done much else.
I did read blog posts and hit “Like.” I prayed. And I posted what felt like pitiful sentences, such as “I’m so sorry!” Of course I was sorry! A barely thirty-year-old woman battling breast cancer is something no one is happy about.
Tragedies aren’t the only situations wherein I’ve found myself at a loss for words. The “why” questions stump me: Why am I sick? Why did I get in a car accident? Why didn’t I get that job? They’re all valid questions, but it’s distressing to me to have to say I don’t know. Then I remember Jeremiah 1:4–9 which says:
“The word of the Lord came to me saying, “Before I formed you in the womb I knew you,
And before you were born I consecrated you;
I have appointed you a prophet to the nations.”
Then I said, “Alas, Lord God! Behold, I do not know how to speak,
Because I am a youth.”
But the Lord said to me, “Do not say, ‘I am a youth,’
Because everywhere I send you, you shall go,
And all that I command you, you shall speak.
“Do not be afraid of them,
For I am with you to deliver you,” declares the Lord. Then the Lord stretched out His hand and touched my mouth, and the Lord said to me, “Behold, I have put My words in your mouth.” (NASB)
When I remember this promise from God, words don’t miraculously flood into my mind, but the pressure is lifted. The most eloquent words can fall flat if they’re not from God. My job is not to say the perfect words, send the perfect gift, or have an answer to every “why.”
Often words aren’t as important as simply being present. Recently my husband, Ordell, a college football coach, and I sat with one of his players while the young man spoke with his parents by phone. He was very close to his grandmother, and she was dying. We silently watched this eighteen-year-old we had known for only about a month hear hard words. When tears formed in his eyes, I could no longer hold back my own. As he ended the call, he couldn’t speak. I asked to give him a hug, and as we embraced I simply told him grandparents are very special people and I was so sorry. I doubt my words provided much comfort; he wanted to go home that minute instead of waiting for his parents to pick him up the next day. Still, our desire to be present in a hard moment was appreciated by his parents, who were far away, and by that young man, who faced a new reality concerning his grandmother.
I’m learning that when I pause first to pray, words will eventually come, and with them a sense of peace that they are from God. That sense of peace encourages me to speak words of simple comfort and to pray for those whose paths cross mine.
Beth Walker is a football coach’s wife and mom of two energetic boys. As a writer, Beth has been striving to find her own voice through pursuing Jesus, personal life reflection, and her ministry encouraging college women to grow in their relationships with God. She blogs at lessonsfromthesidelines.wordpress.com.
