Hurting Comfort
When someone is going through a difficult time, we often feel the need to say something. “It’s okay.” “He/she is in a better place.” “I understand.” “I feel you.” “God must have a reason.” “Everything happens for a reason.” “Be strong.” These are phrases we commonly use when someone is grieving or going through a difficult season. None of them are necessarily wrong. In fact, there are moments when these words can genuinely encourage someone. The problem is not always what we say, but how, when, and why we say it.
Sometimes we use good words in a way that does not actually comfort. We may offer an explanation when the person needs presence. We may say, “I understand,” when we really do not. We may remind someone that God has a reason when they are simply trying to process what has happened. Sometimes we reach for familiar phrases because silence feels uncomfortable. We want to fix the situation because we do not know how to sit with someone's pain. Without realizing it, our attempt to comfort can become more about making ourselves comfortable with their pain than helping them carry it.
The book of Job gives us something important to consider. When Job's friends heard about his suffering, they came to him. At first, they did something remarkably simple. They sat with him. For seven days and seven nights, they said nothing because they saw that his suffering was very great (Job 2:11–13). Perhaps they were at their most comforting when they were silent.
Their trouble began when they started speaking. They began trying to explain Job's suffering. They assumed that there must be a reason behind it that they could identify. They questioned him, corrected him, and tried to make sense of what had happened. Eventually, Job called them “miserable comforters” (Job 16:2).
What makes this especially interesting is that their words were not necessarily wrong because everything they said was false. They spoke many things that sounded theologically reasonable. They believed in God's justice. They believed that sin has consequences. They believed that God is righteous. The problem was that they took truths and applied them wrongly to Job's particular situation. They had an explanation, but they did not have the full picture.
Perhaps we need to learn about comfort that a good truth can become a poor comfort when it is used at the wrong time, in the wrong way, or for the wrong purpose. A statement may be true and still not be what a hurting person needs to hear at that particular moment.
Romans 12:15 says, “Weep with those who weep.” It is interesting that Paul does not tell us to explain to those who weep. He does not tell us to correct those who weep. He tells us to weep with them. There are moments when people do not need an explanation for their suffering. They need someone willing to sit with them in it.
Jesus gives us perhaps an even more powerful picture. When Jesus arrived at Bethany after Lazarus had died, He already knew what He was going to do. He knew Lazarus would rise again. Yet when He saw Mary and the others weeping, Jesus wept (John 11:35). Jesus knew the answer, but He did not rush past their sorrow. He knew the resurrection was coming, but He still entered into the grief of that moment. Knowing what would happen next did not make their present pain insignificant.
Perhaps this is where we sometimes struggle with comforting others. We are too eager to remove their pain. We say, “Everything will be okay.” We say, “God has a reason.” We say, “I understand.” We say, “Be strong.” Again, these words are not necessarily wrong. But truth is not a formula that can simply be placed over every situation. A grieving person may not need an explanation. Someone who has lost a loved one may not need us to make sense of it for them. Someone who is hurting may not need us to tell them that we know exactly how they feel.
Sometimes they simply need someone who will listen. Someone who will not compare their pain with someone else's. Someone who will not turn their suffering into a lesson before they have had space to grieve. Someone who will stay.
Comfort does not always require many words. Sometimes it is sitting beside someone in a hospital room. Sometimes it is listening without knowing what to say. Sometimes it is allowing someone to cry without trying to stop the tears. Sometimes it is praying when the person does not have the strength to pray. And sometimes it is simply saying, “I don't know exactly what you are going through, but I am here.”
There is humility in such words. We do not have to understand everything to love someone. We do not have to have an answer to be present. We do not have to fix someone's pain to share their burden. Perhaps learning how not to comfort is really learning how to comfort better. It is learning that even good words can be poorly used, and that truth needs love, wisdom, timing, and compassion.
Sometimes the most comforting thing we can give someone is not an explanation for their pain, but the assurance that they do not have to carry it alone.