When You Don’t Know What to Say

Presence is a ministry. Learning to sit with someone in their suffering, without fixing, explaining, or rushing them, may be the most Christ-like thing a pastor, leader, or friend can do.

When You Don't Know What to Say:

A First Responder's Reflection on Being Present in Someone's Pain

By Brian Basham

Text: Job 2:11-13; Romans 12:15; John 11:35

Presence is a ministry. Learning to sit with someone in their suffering, without fixing, explaining, or rushing them, may be the most Christ-like thing a pastor, leader, or friend can do.

In emergency services, there is a concept that gets drilled into you early: your job is to show up. The call goes out, you go. You do not wait until you feel ready. You do not wait until you have all the answers. You get on the truck and you go, because someone needs you to be there.

As a firefighter and paramedic, I responded to some of the hardest moments in people's lives. Car accidents. Cardiac arrests. Fires. Overdoses. Structure collapses. And one thing I learned quickly is that the most important thing I could bring to those scenes was not always a skill or a piece of equipment. Often, it was simply my presence, my willingness to step into chaos and stay.

That lesson, forged in emergency services, turns out to be deeply Biblical. And it may be one of the most important things the church needs to hear right now.

The Wisdom of Job's Friends -- Before They Spoke

We often remember Job's friends for what they said, and it wasn't good. Their long speeches, their theological theories about why Job was suffering, their insistence that his pain must be his own fault, these are rightfully criticized in the text. God Himself rebukes them at the end of the book.

But there is a moment early in the story, before they open their mouths, that deserves more attention:

"Then they sat down with him on the ground seven days and seven nights, and no one spoke a word to him, for they saw that his suffering was very great." -- Job 2:13

Seven days. No words. Just presence.

In the field, we call this holding the space. Sometimes a patient does not need another intervention. They need someone to kneel down beside them, make eye contact, and stay. That act alone communicates something nothing else can: you are not alone in this.

Job's friends understood that instinctively, at first. It was when they started talking that things fell apart.

Why We Rush to Fix It

Most of us are deeply uncomfortable with suffering, especially in someone we love or lead. Whether you are a church elder, a small group leader, a parent, or a friend, when someone you care about is in pain there is a powerful urge to reach for something: a Scripture, a prayer, a solution, a silver lining.

That urge is not wrong. It comes from love. But it can also come from our own discomfort with grief. We reach for words because silence feels like failure. We offer explanations because mystery feels like inadequacy.

In emergency medicine, new responders often over-treat for the same reason. The instinct to do something, anything, can lead to interventions the patient does not need. Sometimes the most disciplined and caring thing you can do is assess, stabilize, and simply be present while the person processes what is happening to them.

C.S. Lewis wrote in A Grief Observed about how painful it was when well-meaning friends tried to explain his wife's death theologically before he had even finished grieving. The answers, even true ones, felt like an interruption of the sorrow that needed to be felt.

There is a time for truth. There is a time for encouragement and the hope of resurrection. But there is also a time, as Ecclesiastes reminds us, to simply be quiet (Eccl. 3:7).

Jesus Wept

The shortest verse in the English Bible is also one of the most theologically remarkable: "Jesus wept." (John 11:35)

Consider what Jesus knew at that moment. He knew He was about to raise Lazarus from the dead. He knew death did not have the final word. He knew, more than anyone who has ever lived, the full redemptive plan of the Father.

And He still wept.

He did not say, "Don't cry, I've got this handled." He did not move immediately into action. He entered into the grief of Mary and Martha. He let their sorrow move Him. He was present with them in the pain before He was present with them in the miracle.

For anyone in a position of leadership or care, this is the model: enter before you explain. Be moved before you act.

Practical Ways to Practice Presence

Presence is not passive. In emergency services, it is a trained skill. In ministry and relationships, it can be developed the same way. Here are a few practical ways to grow in it:

•       Show up before you know what to say. Your physical presence communicates what words cannot. Simply arriving says: you are not alone.

•       Resist the urge to fill silence. Silence in grief is not awkward. It is often holy. Let it breathe.

•       Ask questions rather than offer answers. "Tell me about him." "What has this been like for you?" These open the door to real conversation.

•       Mourn with those who mourn (Romans 12:15). Paul's instruction is not to fix those who mourn. It is to mourn alongside them.

•       Come back. Most people show up in the first week. True presence means returning in week four, month three, year two.

A Word for Church Leaders Specifically

Pastors and church leaders carry a particular temptation: because you are trained in the Word, because your congregation expects wisdom and guidance, because your role is to shepherd, there is real pressure to perform in moments of suffering. To have the right verse. To say the thing that helps.

But consider this: the first responder's highest calling at a scene is not to be impressive. It is to be useful. And useful often looks a lot quieter than we expect.

The families I sat with in the hardest moments rarely remembered what I said. They remembered that someone came. They remembered that someone stayed. They remembered that in the middle of the worst thing that had ever happened to them, they were not left alone.

That same ministry is available to every church leader, every small group member, every follower of Christ who is willing to show up and not rush for the exit when the grief gets heavy.

The Ministry That Doesn't Require Words

First responders have a phrase: on scene. It simply means you are there. You have arrived. The call is no longer coming in over a radio from somewhere else. You are present, in person, and the work begins.

For the church, the ministry of presence works the same way. Getting on scene matters. Staying on scene matters. Not every moment of suffering requires a sermon. Sometimes it requires a friend, a leader, a fellow believer who is willing to sit on the ground with someone for as long as it takes.

Job's friends got that part right. Jesus modeled it perfectly.

Show up. Stay. Mourn with those who mourn.

That, too, is the Gospel in action.

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About the Author

Brian is a husband, father of two, and a man of faith. Brian served as a firefighter, paramedic, and ocean rescue professional. Those years in emergency services shaped a deep, personal understanding of what it means to show up for people in their hardest moments. Brian lives in Orlando, Florida, and works with Mark Behavioral (https://markbehavioral.com), a behavioral health organization in Lantana, Florida, committed to helping individuals and families find the care and support they need.