Published: January 24, 2008 04:20 pm            

When words fail

John Paul Carter, Democrat Columnist

In the comic strip “Peanuts,” a grief-stricken Charlie Brown calls his best friend Linus on a pay-phone from summer camp. “Peggy Jean is gone, Linus!” he cries. “She got mad! She said I didn’t trust her. I loved her Linus. And now I’ll never see her again ... ” There’s a long pause and then Linus replies, “Golf is a cruel game, Charlie Brown.” Bewildered and brokenhearted, Charlie Brown asks, “What’s that got to do with it?” To which Linus replies, “It’s all I could think of to say.”

Humor aside, it’s hard to know what to say in the face of a loved one’s grief or a friend’s broken heart. We are often left speechless in the presence of another’s horrendous sorrow. “Light griefs can speak;” Seneca wrote, “great ones are dumb.”

For many of us it’s terribly unnerving to be without words. Some of us feel that we never seem to have the right words to say, especially not on the spur of the moment. Others of us routinely talk to mask our feelings of inadequacy and fear.

We’d all like to be able to say something that would somehow ease the pain of the one who is grieving. But to expect that of ourselves may only make matters worse. “While grief is fresh,” Samuel Johnson said, “every attempt to divert only irritates.” The pain of grief must run its course. And sometimes, like Job’s friends, our words get in the way of that process, especially when we try to explain the loss.

So what are we called upon to do in the face of another’s grief? Our mission is to bring comfort to the sufferer. The word “comfort” literally means “to be along side of another with strength and courage.” To comfort another does not mean that we are able to make the pain go away, but that we are there to support the sufferer in the midst of the pain.

Our words, of course, can be comforting when timely and invited. But comfort can also take many other forms, including non-judgmental listening, our silent presence, or even giving the bereaved privacy and space. Comfort may be communicated by touch — an embrace, a hand on the shoulder, a warm handshake. Grieving with the sufferers may help them to feel that they are not alone. In the face of death, we can take a dish or prepare a meal for the bereaved. Our attendance at the funeral, a sympathy card, flowers, a memorial gift, and especially our prayers are also signs of our support.

The way through “the valley of the shadow” is long and arduous. Our comforting must not only be at the beginning of that journey, but also for the long-haul ahead — months and years, not just days.

We are not alone as we try to comfort. The Psalmist promises that even when we walk through the dark valley, God, the Good Shepherd, is with us. Jesus said that in the midst of grief, he sends the Holy Spirit — the comforter and helper. It doesn’t all depend on us as individuals or as a group. God is there with the brokenhearted and with those who attempt to comfort them in his name.

Our presence in the midst of another’s grief is a sign and reminder that the Lord is there — supporting, consoling, healing and bringing hope. God works through us, even when we are speechless!

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John Paul Carter’s “Notes from the Journey” appear in the Democrat’s Religion page on the second and fourth Fridays of each month. Carter, an ordained minister who attends Central Christian Church, may be contacted by writing him at 107 Bent Oak Road, Weatherford, 76086. Columns submitted to The Weatherford Democrat by guest writers reflect the opinions of the writer and in no way reflect the beliefs or opinions of The Weatherford Democrat.

        

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