When we were taking care of my mother-in-law at home, nothing quite helped like talking to others who were doing or had done the same. They knew by experience what was involved. It’s not that we wanted to gripe about our situation, but there were difficulties and pressures these friends would understand. It’s not that other friends weren’t a help, but with these we felt a freedom to talk like we didn’t always feel with others.

That’s one reason Paul says in 2 Corinthians 2:3-4, “Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of mercies and God of all comfort, who comforts us in all our affliction, so that we may be able to comfort those who are in any affliction, with the comfort with which we ourselves are comforted by God.” God comforts us through His Word, His Spirit, and His people.

When this passage came up in our recent ladies’ Bible study, someone pointed out that we need to feel free to be vulnerable with each other, to share when we’re struggling.

I came to that realization some years ago after I contracted transverse myelitis. We got our first computer a few weeks later, and transverse myelitis was the first thing I looked up. In that era before Facebook and message boards, I found a subscriber group of TM patients and caregivers. They were a lifeline to me as I navigated a little-known disease.

I wanted to be a good testimony there. I knew that would mean not hijacking conversations to “preach,” which would not have been well-received. But I wanted to give God the glory for the help and grace He gave and point others to Him. I thought the best way to do that was to always be cheerful and positive.

Some years later, another woman came into the group who was also a Christian. She was very transparent about her frustrations and struggles with TM. She wasn’t complaining, but she was honest. She gave God glory, and it rang true because we saw how He helped her.

I realized we’re not much help to others if we come across as always having everything all together. We’re more authentic when we share our struggles and burdens.

The Sunday after the Bible study session where we discussed these things, our care group met for lunch after the Sunday morning service. Our pastor emeritus had given an excellent message that morning about God’s grace through suffering–in his case, months in the hospital in isolation with Covid, a lung transplant, a blood clot, and more. The host of our care group asked if anyone had anything to share in connection with the message.

One woman shared how hard it was after her son committed suicide. When people asked her how she was doing, and she tried to tell them, she’d have to short-circuit what she wanted to say. She could see by their faces that they weren’t ready for what was on her heart. She pointed out that we need to allow for lament in the church such as the psalmists display. About a third of the psalms are laments, which are different from complaints. The writers conveyed a range of emotions based on their troubles. They eventually reminded themselves of God’s character and love, but they had to spend their grief and confusion first before they could receive it.

Granted, the psalmists did not have as much of the Word of God as we do now, which might have helped with some of their questions. But there are always mysteries as to why God allows certain painful things or doesn’t grant things that seem beneficial.

Paul was honest about his struggles as well:

. . . far greater labors, far more imprisonments, with countless beatings, and often near death. Five times I received at the hands of the Jews the forty lashes less one. Three times I was beaten with rods. Once I was stoned. Three times I was shipwrecked; a night and a day I was adrift at sea; on frequent journeys, in danger from rivers, danger from robbers, danger from my own people, danger from Gentiles, danger in the city, danger in the wilderness, danger at sea, danger from false brothers; in toil and hardship, through many a sleepless night, in hunger and thirst, often without food, in cold and exposure. And, apart from other things, there is the daily pressure on me of my anxiety for all the churches (2 Corinthians 11:23-38).

In Peter’s epistles, he was also quite frank about suffering believers experience.

When people are hurting, we want to fix their problems and make them better. But healing takes time. Sometimes pain drowns everything else out. We can’t help others when we apply Bible verses like band-aids over gaping wounds. There is a time to share Scripture. I’ve been greatly encouraged by a shared verse at just the right time. But first we need to listen and “weep with those who weep” (Romans 12:15). Sometimes the tender care and concern shared in the midst of someone’s pain will open their hearts to receive truth.

Someone has said that Job’s friends ministered to him much more when they sat with him in silence for a week than when they started talking.

Some years ago, in our early married life, someone at church shared a prayer request for a man who had just been diagnosed with cancer. The speaker went on to say that the wife wasn’t taking the news well.

I thought, “How does someone take that kind of news well?” Wrestling through pain, confusion, and grief doesn’t mean one doesn’t have faith. This woman needed someone to come alongside her, not judge for her initial reaction to devastating news.

There is no one formula for aiding people in their worst times. We need to ask God’s guidance for what to share when. But we need to give them space to grieve. We need to listen, empathize, support, and love without judgment and pat answers.

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