I came close to saying no the first time someone asked me to teach a women’s Sunday School class. Although I had taught children and teenagers for years, I was absolutely terrified at the prospect of leading my own peers.
What could I possibly tell them that they don’t already know?
What if they think I’m too old/young/dramatic/boring?
And what if they compare me to the beloved teacher whose shoes they’re asking me to fill?
After a whole lot of trembling and trepidation, I finally said yes because I couldn’t decide how to say no.
Then I begged God to teach me how to lead a class full of women ranging from fifteen years younger to twenty years older than me.
Tragedy for a class member
God’s first lesson for me came a couple of Sundays after I agreed to take the class.
As I made my way to my classroom, I heard the shocking news that the 21-year-old son of one of my new class members had died that morning in a hit-and-run accident.
As I entered the classroom, I started an argument with God. I knew He was telling me to go to the mother’s home.
But I barely know her. She has plenty of family members and tons of friends. I don’t belong there. She’ll think I’m intruding. Besides, I don’t know how to comfort someone who is grieving.
I’m not sure why I finally decided to go. Perhaps I’d learned by then that, no matter how uncomfortable the task, it can’t compare to the misery that always follows when I say no to God.
With my heart in my throat, I made my way to a home I knew would be filled with unspeakable grief and prayed the mother would recognize me. I reminded God I didn’t want to do this, and asked Him to give me the words of wisdom I felt others would expect from a Sunday School teacher.
How do you comfort someone who is grieving?
People were everywhere and more were pulling into the driveway as I got out of my car. Grief was written on every face. I could hear people discussing details of the accident as they tried to make sense of the tragedy that had claimed the life of a young man I would later learn was loved by the entire community.
I could feel my legs begin to shake as I entered the house and looked for the woman I had come to see.
When I saw her, our eyes met and we were no longer a Sunday School teacher and student. Instead, we were two moms who could not imagine life without one of our precious children.
As I embraced her, my heart filled with her anguish. I never said a word. To be honest, I felt totally inadequate to utter anything that would bring any sanity to this devastating nightmare, so I kept my mouth shut and simply asked God to comfort the grieving mother I held in my arms.
I found myself by her side for most of the day. I was there while she discussed funeral arrangements and I listened as she told me about her son who loved rodeos and country music and working with his dad.
When I finally left, I simply told her to call me at any time, and I remember thinking how lame that was, since I wouldn’t know what to say if she called.
She did call. And I didn’t know what to say. So I said nothing.
Instead, I let her tell me about her son, and I listened as she tried to explain the sleepless nights, the haunting nightmares, and the heart-wrenching ache that had invaded her new life as a mom who’d lost a beloved child.
Best friends
Over the next few weeks and months, as we met for lunch and spent hours on the phone, we became best friends. Her husband became buddies with my husband, and her youngest son ended up dating one of my daughters for more than two years. Our families took vacations together and she and her husband were honored guests at our daughters’ weddings.
It was years after her son’s tragic death before I learned why my friend had been drawn to me. “Everyone else was trying to say things to make me feel better or to make sense of what had happened,” she told me, “But you never said anything at all. You just let me talk it out.”
Through my inadequacy, God had supplied exactly what my friend had needed. I hadn’t known how to comfort someone who is grieving, but He was with me and taught me a valuable lesson:
Sometimes all God wants us to do is show up.
The women who encountered the angel at the tomb of the risen Lord had done the same thing. They’d shown up. The disciples had scattered, but the women were there.
The next evening, when the Sabbath ended, Mary Magdalene and Salome and Mary the mother of James went out and purchased embalming spices. Early the following morning, just at sunrise, they carried them out to the tomb. On the way they were discussing how they could ever roll aside the huge stone from the entrance.
Mark 16:1-3
Those women must have had to wrestle with fear, knowing they would meet the guards at the tomb. Surely they wondered if they’d be able to see and handle a body that had been horribly beaten and bruised. And they had to be willing to find their way to the tomb before the light of day.
In spite of all the excuses they could have made, those women showed up. And they were the ones who encountered Christ!
But when they arrived they looked up and saw that the stone—a very heavy one—was already moved away and the entrance was open!
Mark 16:4
Where has God placed you at this moment?
You don’t have to have something wonderful or unique to offer, and you don’t have to know how to comfort someone who is grieving. You just have to show up.
God will equip you with all you need to serve Him, even if it’s just a warm smile that lets someone else feel they have a friend.
When God calls us, He may use us. But what He wants most is for us to show up so we can encounter Him.
Just one thing: live your life in a manner worthy of the gospel of Christ. Then, whether I come and see you or am absent, I will hear about you that you are standing firm in one spirit, with one mind, working side by side for the faith of the gospel.
