A number of years ago when a certain widow returned to our church services for the first time after her husband’s untimely death, she dejectedly sat in a pew near the back of the auditorium. Moments later, another lady (who had recently lost her only sister) also entered the building; and upon seeing the recent widow with obvious sorrow on her face, entered the same pew and without a word, tenderly put an understanding arm around her. No words escaped either of their lips; but I sensed that in that compassionate embrace, more was said than words could have expressed.
When the godly man job was passing through a host of deep dark valleys, his three friends came to him one day in order to “mourn with him and to comfort him” (Job 2: 11). But in spite of their weeping and sorrowing on job’s behalf, they also recognized that his grief was so overwhelming that it would be best for them to evidence their concern by just sitting quietly at his side. Job 2:13 says that they .’sat down with him upon the ground seven days and seven nights, and none spake a word unto him; for they saw that his grief was very great.”
It is said that England’s former Queen Victoria one day became grief-stricken when she heard that the wife of a common laborer had unexpectedly lost her baby. Because the queen had had a similar experience in her own life, she decided to leave her throne and visit the grieving mother. After she had stayed a while in the commoner’s house, she left and went back to the palace. Upon hearing the news that the sorrowing mother had been visited by the queen, the neighbors asked, “What did she say?” To which the mother replied, “The queen said nothing! She simply put her hands on mine, and we silently wept together.”
I believe there are times when we can best show our compassion and concern for the hurts of people by not uttering a word. Sometimes an understanding smile, a tender embrace, a warm handclasp, or a heart-felt tear will go a long way in conveying Christian fellowship and genuine concern. At times – words seem futile.
March/April 1976