Only Time Will Tell

“So they sat down with him upon the ground seven days and seven nights, and none spake a word unto him: for they saw that his grief was very great” (Job 2:13).

Have you entered a room where someone was sick and, as far as anyone could tell, quite possibly dying? What a difficult, awkward moment. To know the right thing to say; choosing the moment to speak. Or would it be better to say nothing at all, since the very best words will surely be woefully inadequate? Even the kindest word stands some chance of landing badly. Loved ones are standing about, bewildered and heartbroken. To the sick or dying, one more word may be yet another barbed arrow piercing his already wounded heart.

Some things never get easier. How to love through the darkest hours, even until the end. Being a true friend in the absolute worst of times. What to say in someone’s dire hour; when to say it. O’ the delicate nature of words and even facial expressions and posture. When everything is good, when we and our friends are prospering, everything is easy; but those seasons are all too few and all too brief in this world

We have many acquaintances, associates, contacts—but few are friends; even as “many are called, but few are chosen.” Friendship has unspeakable benefits and fills longings in the human heart, as nothing else can. However, life being what it is, friendship is rather costly and inconvenient, at times. It may interrupt plans. Being someone’s friend means being prepared to drop everything and come to his aid. An acquaintance has not such things to be bothered with. After all, they just happen to know each other. It’s not like they’re close friends or something.

When Job’s three friends saw him at a distance they were horrified, brokenhearted. After they came near and expressed, if only with tear-filled eyes, their sympathies—these three friends “sat down with him upon the ground seven days and seven nights.”

They had lives of their own and untold responsibilities, each one of them. But they didn’t do what many of us would have: speak a few obligatory words and make for the exit. For them, nothing was more pressing or more important than their friend. The first gift they gave him was sympathetic tears of grief; the second, more costly, gift they gave him was their time. A lot of people have words for us; far fewer have time for us.

For “seven days and seven nights,” not one of his three friends spoke “a word unto him: for they saw that his grief was very great.” How quickly we speak our piece of magic comfort, say “Bless your heart, Honey,” and excuse ourselves and go. They said nothing to him. They sat with him. It was not that they had nothing to say; but before they could say any of it they knew that they must, first, at least attempt to enter into some of the utter brokenness of their friend. They knew that, until Job knew more certainly their love for him, he would not have been able or willing to hear a single word from any of them. Indeed, the saying is still true, “No one cares how much you know until they know how much you care.”

When the bones of the soul are shattered and everything hurts, what our friend needs, first of all, is our deepest sympathy with loud cryings to God for him. Next, he needs our time. Some can’t afford to give you more than a moment. But a friend believes you are worth it, even if you’re sick and dying. Job’s friends surely figured he was dying; they gave him their time anyway. Time would tell whether Job would live or die. Time had already told that Job had three friends. Three real friends. –TSA