“Daddy, my head hurts.” “Daddy, I’m so cold.” “Daddy, can you rub my feet?”
A high fever, chills, and body aches recently descended cruelly upon my teenage daughter. She wanted me to make it better. But mostly she just wanted me near. Eventually, we took her to urgent care. “Virus,” we were told. Nothing to do but ride it out.
I sat with my sick girl hours that day. Rubbing her feet. Getting her medicine. Desperately wanting her to feel better. Occasionally, my selfish side complained, This is hard. Indeed, it is hard to sit with people’s suffering, to witness their hurt up close.
Job’s friends saw his suffering up close, too. These three guys are often—fairly!—criticized for their later poor treatment of Job. But it’s easy to forget that, initially, they simply sat with him: “They sat on the ground with him for seven days and seven nights. No one said a word to him, because they saw how great his suffering was” (Job 2:13).
Jobs’ friends remind us that when someone we love is hurting, it’s our presence—our being there, whether we speak or not—that matters most. Their example reminds us that even though we may not always know what to say to a friend or loved one who’s hurting, simply sitting with someone in their suffering may be the greatest gift we can give.
