My mother died in 1981, when I was a young pastor. Ten years earlier, not long after I become a Christian, I had the joy of leading mom to Christ. We grew together, reading and discussing Scripture and great books, praying and laughing together, and later fussing over my children, her granddaughters, Karina and Angela. When she died, I mourned my loss, my wife’s, and above all my children’s. I felt like part of me had been taken away.
As I walked into church that first Sunday after mom’s death, I felt as though my presence parted the Red Sea. Instead of greeting me warmly in their usual way, people stepped aside. I knew they did it because they just didn’t know what to say, yet it magnified my loneliness.
Many of us have seen friends disappear when we most needed them—and without meaning to, we’ve done the same to others. If you find yourself not wanting to make a phone call or send a note when you hear about someone’s crisis, remind yourself that any imperfect expression of concern is normally far better than none. When people lose a loved one, they don’t want to “move on” as if the person never existed. Even if doing so makes them cry, usually they want and need to talk about them.
“Rejoice with those who rejoice; mourn with those who mourn” (Romans 12:15). We tend to do better at rejoicing. Because we don’t like to feel pain, we tend to ignore others’ pain. But they need us to become the arms of Christ to them—especially at Christmastime, which can be a difficult season for those who are undergoing loss, grief, or any kind of suffering.
Several friends have recently had their close loved ones die. I appreciate these five points from Vaneetha Rendall Risner, a dear sister who has experienced much suffering, on how to minister to others in need. Thanks, Vaneetha, for these sensitive and insightful suggestions. —Randy Alcorn
The week after my infant son Paul died, I went to pick up my two-year-old daughter from preschool. No one said a word to me other than “Here she is.” I realize they felt awkward, but the silence was crushing. I barely made it out the door before bursting into tears.
It’s hard knowing what to say when someone has experienced a great loss. Saying “I’m so sorry” feels trite, so it’s easier just to say nothing. But for those who are suffering, silence hammers the hurt even deeper, especially during the Christmas season when the ache of loss is intensified. The weight of tragedies — the death of a loved one, divorce, disease, divided families, depression, and disaster — can all feel heavier at the holidays, as the festivities acutely remind us of what we have lost.
I have buried a child, endured four miscarriages, gone through an unwanted divorce, parented troubled teenagers, and continue to deal with a painful deteriorating disability — so I understand how difficult this time of year can be. While each person and each loss is unique, from my experience, here are five suggestions for caring for those who are suffering at Christmas.
Having someone simply acknowledge your grief can be a gift in itself. Though our suffering friends may never mention it, the sadness of the situation will be a constant backdrop throughout the season. When we verbally recognize their loss, it shows we notice and care. Our words need not be deep or profound; just recognizing the ever-present reality of their pain can be encouraging.
Our friends who are reeling from loss this holiday may not be able to do things they did in years past. Since it may be harder to buy gifts, they may not participate in the usual gift-giving. Social events may be too emotionally or physically demanding to attend. Include your friends and offer to go with them to functions, but be understanding if they cancel at the last minute. Suffering people often don’t know what they can do until right before the event.
Also, extend grace when they are down or depressed. Tears may appear unexpectedly and so can irritability. You don’t need to cheer them up, but understand that their emotions may be constantly on edge. The impact of your support and encouragement is appreciated more than you realize.
Deliberately look for ways to help, and then offer specific suggestions. It’s hard to follow up on vague offers, so don’t just say, “If you need anything, call me,” because they won’t call. If you do offer specific support, be sure to follow through. They know it’s a busy time of year, but if you have committed to help, they are likely depending on it.
Some things that may be helpful are:
Even though everyone at a gathering may know them well and share concern for them, it is difficult to be put on the spot with more than a few people present—so ask in private. I have felt awkward and even embarrassed to be asked how I am really doing in front of a group; it’s harder to be authentic when everyone is looking at me.
Regularly call or come by to check in with them. The question, “How are you doing today?” can open the door to conversation since it acknowledges that grieving and suffering changes from day to day. It also lets them answer the question without feeling they need to summarize everything that has happened over the month. But don’t ask prying, personal questions or speak in hushed, mournful tones. That often makes people feel uncomfortable, and like a project more than a friend.
Instead, point them to Christ and remind them of his faithfulness.
I am still indebted to the friends who let me weep and vent without analyzing or judging me. Trying to fix people only deepens their grief. Unsolicited advice feels like criticism. It hurts to be told that others are thriving under the same circumstances and then to get suggestions on what to do differently. Everyone’s healing is unique. Negative comparison makes the wound even deeper.
Instead, we can remind our friends that the real joy of Christmas is not in family or friends or gift-giving or parties, but in the incredible fact that God Incarnate came to earth and dwelt among us. Jesus took on flesh for us so that we would have life eternal in him.
Remind them that God’s grace is sufficient and his word revives the soul. But do not bludgeon them with mini-sermons or pepper them with platitudes. God’s ways are mysterious, and we do not understand why calamity comes.
Remind them that our faithful Savior will never fail or forsake them. That Jesus walks with them and he weeps with them. Remind them that he knows every detail of their struggle. Remind them that for all of us, the unshakeable hope of Christmas lies solely in Emmanuel, for our God has come to us and will forevermore be with us.
This post originally appeared on DesiringGod.org and is used with the author’s permission.